John (Ed Speleers) and Karen (Zoë Tapper) are stuck in a loveless marriage. After they discovered that Karen was infertile, and their last child stillborn, they haven’t stayed together out of love but complacency. Mindlessly shuffling their way through life, propped up on copious amounts of drugs and alcohol to be even remotely interested in this existence, all while they both stay on the cusp of a divorce but ultimately unable to take that plunge. You can see why, once the zombie apocalypse breaks out across the world, their lives haven’t really changed that much.
As a fresh(er) take on the zombie sub-genre, most pointedly a metaphor for the emotional deadness that comes out of this kind of forced cohabitation, it relies on the main couple to keep things interesting, especially since the vast majority of the film takes place in their flat. And on both an acting and writing front, I’d say it succeeds with flying colours.
Watching John and Karen as they gradually adjust to their new situation, from looting the neighbours for food and leisure to regular physical exercise so they can outrun (or outfight) anyone they come across, is a nicely straight-faced take on how much pop culture has primed the average person for this scenario. Which itself is interesting since there aren’t any ‘cute’ showings of meta self-awareness; it takes it as granted that everyone has seen oodles of zombie apocalypse media before, on both sides of the screen, and treats it matter-of-factly.
On the writing front, the set-up admittedly does have some tinges of Shaun Of The Dead in its juxtaposition of romance and zombie horror, except this is a decidedly crackier take on that. When I brought up the drug use earlier, that’s because of how frequently it shows up in the narrative proper, from Karen revealing her Hunter S. Thompson-sized collection to how it plays into the deadness of their relationship. Honestly, without entirely giving the game away, it’s pretty easy to see the utility of drug use in a lockdown situation like this, where they have to do everything they can to make the inside of their home liveable and engaging. Well, enough to stop any thoughts of going outside, at least.
This feels a bit weird to write down, especially after spending so much time extolling how much I love zombie cinema, but the most interesting part of this whole thing isn’t the walking dead but the main romantic relationship. The way it progresses is quite stirring, from the initial emotional void to the typical rom-com ‘rekindling the flame in the face of extreme circumstances’ developments, imagining their future lives with kids, grandkids, and growing old together, right up to its morbidly happy conclusion that is almost Ari Aster in tone.
As misanthropic as the characters come across at times (basically whenever other characters show up, like their neighbours or a party of scavengers), it’s difficult to see their love start to shine again in response to plague and death and not be moved by it. And with the note it ends on, this whole thing is what Warm Bodies should have been: A rather dark romance story involving zombies (and possibly vampires, with how the disease manifests) that, for as bizarre and bloody as it gets, is actually quite heartfelt in how it portrays that romance.
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