The Night Eats The World (2019) - Movie Review

I’ve gone on record a few times in previous reviews that I have a serious weakness for zombie movies. Far as I’m concerned, the weirder, the stupider, the more outright insane, the better. And yet, with how much I’ve delved into my love for this sub-genre, one question still seems to elude me: Why? Why is it this specific brand of genre cinema that sticks to my heart the easiest? I could just chalk it up to nostalgia for Planet Terror, the film that made me realise I loved film at large, let alone zombie films, but that still doesn’t seem to fit. I bring all this up because today’s entry in the genre makes for a distinct diversion from the norm… and honestly, it helped me finally pin down why I love this genre so damn much.

If you’re expecting to hear a lot of cheesy one-liners, prepare to be disappointed. Hell, if you’re expecting to hear much of any dialogue, you’ll be disappointed because this is an incredibly quiet film. It follows what has become a familiar introduction for these kinds of stories, with musician Sam (played by Norwegian actor Anders Danielsen Lie) waking up to find Paris, and possibly the world, has been overrun by the walking dead. We stay anchored to him for the entirety of the run time, but most of what we learn about him, his surroundings and how the latter affects the former is largely depicted through gesture and visuals. Whether he’s scavenging for supplies, contemplating his mortality or bashing away at a drum kit to alleviate boredom, what we see ends up being more vital than anything else.

And what we see is one of the more sombre and frankly heart-breaking depictions of the survivor in the zombie apocalypse that I’ve seen in years. In fact, not since Will Smith in I Am Legend have I seen a zombie flick delve into what is a pretty important part of the scenario: Dealing with the fact that you very well could be the only human left alive. The grim understanding of that kind of social isolation is enough to drive some people mad, and in the face of losing one’s sanity, just about anything seems like a good idea if it helps alleviate it. Even if it means having a zombie as your only friend, here shown as Alfred played by Leos Carax regular Denis Lavant.

Most zombie flicks emphasise a need for teamwork in order for the human race to continue in the face of the risen dead, even if that usually means a lot of wisecracks between characters. But that’s the optimistic outcome; what is unfortunately a lot more likely is that some will survive without having any idea that others are out there. It’s the kind of thought that can really fuck with people’s mental state, and as we see Sam in the desolate quiet that is his new home, it’s a little too easy to understand the pain he’s in. The very idea of being in a situation where you are constantly on-guard for your life, but without another human soul around for some social reprieve, is terrifying. We’re not designed to operate like that.

While it may not be the scariest zombie flick I’ve seen or even covered, this film is far more interested in character psychology than it is with the conceit of its genre. It treats the zombies in a similar fashion to The Walking Dead, where the focus is less on the title than it is on the characters who inhabit it, but this takes it a step further by emphasising the loneliness of the apocalypse. It’s very dour and more than a little depressing, but it’s a worthy kind of depressing where that negative emotional spectrum is being tapped for potent reasons. In all honesty, a complete lack of social interaction is on my short list of worst scenarios I could ever find myself in, so this film definitely got to me in terms of dread. In fact, that very idea of what the zombie apocalypse could lead to… maybe that’s why I like these films so much: Because I relate to the characters, and the scenario they're in, in a way that I just don’t with other genres.