The Tim Burtonesque depiction of suburbia, full of quirky characters and pastel colors, signals a very different type of horror movie in The Loneliest Boy in the World. One freak accident further isolates the timid and lonely Oliver (Max Harwood), sparking a desperate quest for friendship. He finds it in death, creating a sweet coming-of-age fairy tale in the vein of 2006 zombie-comedy Fido.  

Oliver lives a reclusive life in the suburbs with his mother. He never ventures much outside the home, finding companionship through her and his beloved sitcom Alf. That changes when a wild series of events leaves mom dead, impaled on a garden gnome, and Oliver at the mercy of a social worker, Margot (Ashley Benson). The social worker is concerned with Oliver’s isolation and mental well-being, giving him a finite timeline to find friends before she intervenes. He takes her words to heart and unearths the recently buried, bringing a makeshift family of corpses home. Overnight, his dead and decomposing family come to life and help him learn how to live.

Director Martin Owen, working off a script by Piers Ashworth, infuses Oliver’s story with a fairy tale look. The ‘50s collides with the ‘80s, obscuring the sense of time and place and lending an otherworldly feel. Enough subtle details convey a contemporary setting; Oliver sees the world through a pastel prism of sitcom wholesomeness. It’s not just reflected in the candy-coated walls and furniture of his home but in the weird undead family unit that’s formed.

Susanne (Susan Wokoma) and Frank (Ben Miller) slip into the roles of ‘50s doting parents, and young Mel (Zenobia Williams) adapts to the little sister role. Mitch (Hero Fiennes Tiffin) plays the cooler older brother with ease. Brief snippets reveal very different personalities before death, a further glimpse into the protective, bubble gum world in which Oliver clings tight. Through wholesome gags and a series of reality-based obstacles heightened by this zombie reality, Oliver develops real bonds that prepare him for life.

The quaint production design and vibrant hues imbue a whimsy. The prosthetics and practical makeup help along the decomposing gags for the undead family. It’s with the VFX that the small, intimate story occasionally shows its rough edges; a CGI zombie dachshund can distract instead of eliciting awws and giggles. Owen wisely keeps those moments mostly to a minimum.

Harwood excels at maintaining a naïve sense of sweetness and longing; an affable quality to his loneliness endears Oliver to the audience. You root for him to find his footing even at his most socially awkward. The subplot involving Margot and her accomplice isn’t effective and feels more like fodder for the humor later.

The Loneliest Boy in the World tells a straightforward fairy tale, with plot beats mainly unfolding as expected. It’s a simple yet charming story that uses the sitcom format to satirize the nuclear family while offering the protagonist a chance for growth through escapism. The cute zombie comedy makes for an on-the-nose means of coping with death.