[REVIEW] Handling The Undead (2024) Is A Unique Zombie Film That Captures The Horrors of Grief
Lights flicker along the streets of Oslo, radios turn static, and a piercing shriek crescendos, causing people to stumble in pain. A citywide blackout endures, and when the power returns, the dead rise. Adapted from John Ajvide Lindqvist’s 2005 novel and co-written by him and director Thea Hvistendahl, Handling the Undead is a quietly devastating and intimate meditation on grief, packaged in a zombie movie.
Handling the Undead follows three separate families grappling with the loss, and sudden return of a loved one. Anna (Renate Reinsve) is prevented from a suicide attempt by her father Mahler (Bjørn Sundquist), who brings home her newly resurrected son Elias from the grave. Meanwhile, elderly Tora (Bente Børsum) attends the funeral of her wife Elisabet (Olga Damani) only to find her back at their home that evening. Elsewhere, comedian David (Anders Danielsen Lie) and his children (Inesa Dauksta and Kian Hansen) mourn the sudden death of his wife Eva (Bahar Pars) in a car accident, but appears to breathe again in the hospital.
Handling The Undead takes a unique approach to the zombie subgenre. Hvistendahl nods to our cultural expectations by contrasting a young child playing a zombie killer video game with the film's portrayal of the undead. In Hvistendahl’s world, the undead reanimate as barely mobile and mute figures. The families believe their loved ones' former selves are behind glossy eyes and rotting flesh, or perhaps they just wish it. Anna cradles her son’s decomposed body as his contorted mouth whimpers, with the excellent use of a practical effects puppet making him even more unsettling and emotional. Tears stream down Elisabet’s face as Tora washes and attempts to feed her, and David tells Eva stories about their family as he seeks for answers on what's happening.
With minimal dialogue, Handling the Undead almost bears semblance to a silent film as we observe each character process the phenomenon through their interactions with the undead. The film’s visual language, characterized by straight lines, constricted frames, and a voyeuristic lens, combined with its natural lighting, creates a palpable sadness in each frame. Cinematographer Pål Ulvik Rokseth beautifully encapsulates Oslo’s humid and isolated atmosphere; empty homes, barren streets, and swampy woods mirror the characters’ loneliness. The camera shifts distance between the audience and characters, allowing discomforting feelings the space to unfold while drawing closer at certain moments. Along with its slow-burn pacing, these approaches may be polarizing for some viewers, yet it authentically captures the languid reality faced in the midst of such profound grief.
When the characters' loved ones return, they overlook obvious dangers to be with them again. Hvistendahl uses our existing knowledge of zombies to bring a lurking uneasiness to every moment spent with the undead, as we anticipate when the first bite will happen. A scene involving animal cruelty is particularly disturbing, amplified by terrifying foley work for bones crunching and the creature’s squeals, puncturing the film’s haunting, orchestral music. However, the true horror of this story lies in the bleak permanence of death. In Handling the Undead, survival isn't about escaping their zombies in a traditional sense, but accepting grief for what it is and not allowing it to consume you.
Handling the Undead reimagines the zombie subgenre in a way that may test the patience of some. However, Hvistendahl’s feature debut is handled with such purpose and grace in its interpretation of the undead, reflecting the raw and complicated emotions of losing a loved one.
Handling The Undead was reviewed out of the 2024 Sundance Film Festival