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‘Handling the Undead’ Sundance Review – A Haunting Meditation on Grief

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A loud, high-pitched sound echoes through the streets of Oslo. Car alarms start going off everywhere. A citywide blackout begins. An elderly man, draped over his grandson’s grave, begins to hear the sound of muffled knocks coming from under the ground. “Grandpa is coming,” he says repeatedly. He grabs a shovel and begins to dig. So begins Handling the Undead, Thea Hvistendahl‘s somber feature directorial debut that acts as a haunting meditation on grief, daring to ask us what we would do if someone we loved returned from the dead.

Adapted from John Ajvide Lindqvist’s (Let the Right One In) 2005 novel of the same name (he also co-wrote the screenplay with Hvistendahl), Handling the Undead chronicles the lives of three families as they deal with the sudden return of their recently deceased loved ones. Anna (Renate ReinsveThe Worst Person in the World) is saved from a suicide attempt when her father Mahler (Bjørn Sundquist) brings home her newly resurrected son. David (Anders Danielsen Lie, also from The Worst Person in the World) and his family suffer a terrible tragedy when his wife Eva (Bahar Pars) is killed in a car accident, only for her to return to life mere hours later. And the elderly Tora (Bente Børsum), arrives home from her wife’s (Olga Damani) funeral, only to find her standing in the kitchen later that night.

A deliberately paced film if there ever was one, Handling the Undead is more reminiscent of the 2004 French film Les Revenants and its 2012 television adaptation more than, say, Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. Viewers looking for their gory horror fix should look elsewhere, but that’s not to say that horrifying things don’t happen in the film (one scene of animal abuse is particularly upsetting). Handling the Undead is much more interested in the psyches of its living characters than the flesh-eating antics of its undead ones.

In fact, there’s very little flesh-eating going on in the film, just as there is very little dialogue. It’s a remarkably restrained debut for Hvistendahl, as she allows us sit with the characters as they process the spectacular events happening around them. We are able to process these emotions with them, but left to infer their thoughts and feelings through facial expressions and subtle movements. There are no “big” performances, leaving us with a story that feels shockingly authentic, and the film is all the better for it.

Some viewers may find Hvistendahl’s pacing to be sluggish at times, but this is by design. Life doesn’t move at a rapid clip when you’re grieving, a fact that Hvistendahl seems all too aware. Still, there are times where the pacing and lack of dialogue frustrate, as you find yourself yearning to learn more about these characters, yet the film refuses to let you in. It’s what you would call a “vibe” of a movie.

Director of photography Pål Ulvik Rokseth incorporates shots of a desolate Oslo, despite the fact that we are not in a post-apocalyptic zombie wasteland. We are still very much in the world of the living, and life does continue for our characters. And yet, these long shots of the city are miraculously human-free, establishing just how lonely a place the world can be, even before a zombie apocalypse. This visual through line continues all the way to the evocative final shot. It’s a truly beautiful film.

Morten Jacobsen’s special effects makeup is impressive, but an extra commendation must be given to the work done on Anna’s son Elias. He is the undead character who has been dead the longest (meaning: he actually made it into the ground), and the glimpses we get of his partially-decomposed face will be imprinted in my brain for a long time. Like the film itself, it’s lot of subtle work, but that doesn’t make it any less effective.

With Handling the Undead, Hvistendahl establishes herself as a filmmaker with a keen interest in the human condition and a remarkable visual eye. With a surprisingly minimal amount of dialogue and a handful of emotionally charged performances, the film feels especially unique in its execution, Big questions are asked and few answers are given, but such is life (and death).

Handling the Undead premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. Neon will release the film. Date TBA.

A journalist for Bloody Disgusting since 2015, Trace writes film reviews and editorials, as well as co-hosts Bloody Disgusting's Horror Queers podcast, which looks at horror films through a queer lens. He has since become dedicated to amplifying queer voices in the horror community, while also injecting his own personal flair into film discourse. Trace lives in Austin, TX with his husband and their two dogs. Find him on Twitter @TracedThurman

Reviews

‘The King Tide’: An Island Town Rots with Moral Decay in Canadian Folk Horror Fable [Review]

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Isla (Alix West Lefler) holds up a hand covered in bees

The opening scenes of director Christian Sparkes The King Tide set an ominous tone: a powerful storm takes down the power lines of a small island town as a pregnant woman loses her child while her dementia-suffering mother sits nearby. In the morning, as the town takes stock of the damage and the power is restored, a surprising discovery is found in an overturned boat in the harbour: a baby girl…with the ability to heal.

Writers Albert Shin and William Woods, working from a story by Kevin Coughlin and Ryan Grassby, treat the story as something of a morality tale mixed with a fable. Following the cold open, the action jumps ahead 10 years at a point when the unnamed island (the film was shot in Newfoundland, Canada) is thriving. The fishing is bountiful, the islanders are self-sufficient and have cut ties with the mainland, and most everyone is happy.

As characters are prone to saying, it’s all thanks to Isla (Alix West Lefler), the miracle baby who has grown up worshipped by the islanders. While Mayor Bobby Bentham (Clayne Crawford) and his wife Grace (Lara Jean Chorostecki) endeavor to raise Isla like any other little girl, the reality is that the island’s entire ecosystem revolves around her miraculous powers. It is only because of Isla that they survive; every aspect of their lives – from medicine to food – relies on her.

Each day the citizens line up for their allotted time with the young girl – be it to stave off breast cancer, like Charlotte (Kathryn Greenwood), or recover from another night of heavy drinking like former doctor, Beau (Aden Young). There’s even a predetermined schedule for when she will go out on the boats and use her power to lure fish into the nets.

Bobby (Clayne Crawford) watches adopted daughter Isla (Alix West Lefler) write in candlelight

One fateful day, Bobby succumbs to peer pressure and alters Isla’s schedule at the last minute to accompany cod fishermen Marlon (Michael Greyeyes) and Dillon (Ryan McDonald). A childish game with fatal consequences is played, but with Isla indisposed, a young boy, who would have otherwise been fine, dies. And while the rest of the community grieves, it is Isla who is completely shaken and, unexpectedly, loses her powers.

Suddenly the entire balance of the island is thrown off. Folks like Grace’s mother, Faye (Frances Fisher), who relied on Isla to keep her dementia at bay, suddenly reckon with mortality, while the food security of the town is called into question. Faye’s late-night “support group” meetings take on an urgent and secretive tone and the townspeople claim ownership of Isla’s time despite Bobby and Beau’s protests that she needs rest to recover from her trauma.

Like the best thrillers, the politics and personalities within the community come into play as morals are compromised and the good of individuals vs the collective is played out in increasingly desperate situations. The King Tide excels because it is interested in exploring the competing motivations of the townspeople, while also resolutely refusing to paint anyone as inherently good or bad. These are desperate people, determined to remain independent and free from outside interference, while protecting their trapped-in-amber way of life.

Isla (Alix West Lefler) sits with her back to the camera in a doorway

These developments work because there’s a humanity to the characters and The King Tide wisely relies heavily on its deep bench castoff character actors to drive the conflict. Crawford is the de facto protagonist of the ensemble and he’s also the most straightforward character: Bobby is a good man and a loving father, but he’s no white knight. At several points in the film, his willingness to acquiesce to the demands of the community and retain his power causes events to spiral further out of control.

Even more fascinating are Grace and Faye, two commanding women whose capacity for maternal love is matched – or eclipsed – by their own self-interests. A mid-film discovery about Isla’s power reframes Grace’s priorities, ultimately pitting her against her husband. As a result, Grace is incredibly compelling and frustrating (in a good way) and Chorostecki, who has done great genre work on both Hannibal to Chucky, plays the moral ambiguity exactly right. Grace is a fascinating and flawed human character in a film filled with them.

The same goes for Fisher, who deftly balances Faye’s grandmotherly love for Isla with the needs of the community and, by extension, her own health demands. In the hands of a lesser performer, it would be easy to hate Faye for her actions, but Fisher’s performance perfectly captures the fierce determination and fear that drives the island’s matriarch.

Finally, there’s Aden Young, The King Tide’s secret weapon. The ten-year jump reveals that Beau has undergone the most significant transformation: while everyone else has benefitted from Isla’s powers, her presence has eliminated the need for a doctor. With the clinic effectively shuttered, Beau has become an alcoholic; a shell of his former self with no purpose.

Like Bobby, Beau is the easiest character to root for because of his selfless desire to protect Isla, but Young (renowned for his work with Crawford on Rectify) unlocks the character’s tragic pathos and, in the process, becomes the film’s emotional anchor.

Beau (Aden Young - L) stands in a room full of children's toys with Faye (Frances Fisher)

Framing the moral decline of the islanders and anticipating the unexpectedly devastating climax is the natural beauty of Newfoundland. As shot by cinematographer Mike McLaughlin, there’s a steely beauty to the geography, resplendent with rocky cliffs, pounding surf, and gusty bluffs that reinforce the islanders’ isolation.

There’s a fierce pride in their struggle to survive independently, evident in the simple lodgings and the antiquated alarm bell that is rung whenever fishing ships from the mainland stray too close. It’s a chilly, atmospheric calling card for one of the most picturesque provinces in Canada, but it is a perfect complement for the folk horror narrative.

Armed with serene, beautiful cinematography, murky moral developments, and a deep bench of talented character actors, The King Tide is a quiet gem that demands to be seen. It’s one of the year’s best genre films.

The King Tide is in theaters April 26, 2024.

4.5 skulls out of 5

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