Renate Rainsvi in ​​Arthouse-Horror Hybrid – The Hollywood Reporter

Renate Rainsvi in ​​”Dealing with the Undead”

Courtesy of Pal Ulvik Roxette/Sundance Institute

Perhaps the best way to describe the Norwegian zombie film is, Dealing with the undead (Dealing with Udode), is a somber meditation on grief, on the struggle of the bereaved to let go of their departed loved ones. Based on the book by Swedish author John Ajvide Lindqvist, whose first novel, Let the right person inwhich has become one of the best vampire films of the 21st century—producing a solid-enough American remake, a mediocre Showtime series and an innovative British theatrical adaptation—Thea Hvistendahl’s debut feature is a slow-burning experience that requires patience.

The degree to which this patience is rewarded will depend on the viewer’s willingness to get lost in the pervasive mood of anxiety and sadness in a film whose elegant restraint makes it more psychological study than horror film. This applies even after the detection of rotting flesh eaters. One of the selling points of Neon’s multi-faceted drama is the fame in the ensemble of Renate Reinsve and Anders Danielsen Lie, as they are unforgettable together in The worst person in the world.

The most horrific element of the film is not so much the wandering corpses as an act of animal cruelty that is difficult to watch, comparable to the traumatic cat scene in another Nordic film, Eskil Vogt’s. Innocent people, from 2021. What’s wrong with the Skandians and their desire to shock us by killing pets? Consider this as a trigger warning.

On a random summer day in Oslo, the recently deceased are resurrected, an unexplained event marked by flocks of startled birds, power outages, traffic lights on the fritz, and car alarms automatically going off. While this phenomenon seems at the very least to be city-wide, Lindqvist and Heffestendahl’s screenplay narrows its attention to three unrelated families who are directly affected.

After the death of her young son, Anna (Rinsvi) withdraws into stony silence, refusing to eat meals delivered to her apartment by her equally stricken father (Björn Sundquist), to whom she barely speaks. Eva (Bahar Pars) is driving the car when the event occurs, with ear-piercing interference on the car radio serving as a prelude to the news that she has been in an accident. Her husband David (Lie) and their children Flora (Inessa Doxta) and Kian (Kian Hansen) learn that she was pronounced dead but regained consciousness on the operating table and remains in hospital under observation. A wealthy older lesbian (Binti Borsum) returns home from the funeral of her beloved partner (Olga Damani) and is soon distraught to find the dead woman sitting in her kitchen.

Each of the three branches is treated for pity, not shock. Borsum’s character tenderly bathes and applies make-up to her companion, who is now silent and with an absent look in her eyes. Choosing Nina Simone to sing “Ne Me Quitte Pas” may be a bit obvious for their romantic dance, but that doesn’t make it any less touching.

David does his best to hide his suffering from the children, and celebrates 18-year-old Kian’s birthday with a cake and a rabbit gift, as if everything will go on as usual. But a family visit to the hospital leaves them in a state of severe shock, unsure of who Eva is or what she has become.

The main focus eventually becomes Anna and her father, who exhumes the grave of his grandson Elias, whispering: “Grandpa is coming.” The boy had been in the ground long enough to begin to decompose; His hollow eyes and twisted mouth as he tries to form words that come out only as moans make for a disturbing and poignant sight at the same time. (The makeup and prosthetics are excellent.)

When Anna returns home from work and sees her lost child sleeping, her confusion almost immediately gives way to protective warmth, erasing the numbness that previously defined her. A knock on the door from the police sends them fleeing to an isolated cabin in the woods, but they are not safe for long, causing Anna to make a heartbreaking decision.

Hvistendahl displays great control, maintaining a stately tone, matched by DP Pal Ulvik Rokseth’s detached observational camera style, and favoring medium or long shots. The film’s silence and sparse dialogue make its sparsely used jolts of startling violence effective. There is also an economy in the way Peter Raeburn’s score is used, building great dramatic intensity only in the haunting final act.

Thinking about the thin line between life and death, Dealing with the undead A strange film that risks falling between the cracks of horror and psychological drama, with a precision that may limit its audience. But its strong cast and distinctive approach to this widely trafficked subgenre make it an emotional rumination on loss.