Day 9 - Life After Beth (2014)

Left to my own devices, I'd be happy to pretend to myself that Prince's predictions were right and the world really did end in 1999 - back when Prince was still calling himself Prince, in fact. It's not that my cinematic choices absolutely always reflect this, it's just that over the past fifteen years or so I've had time for my critical faculties to properly develop; most of the movies I've seen over the past five years or so either haven't been sufficiently reviled as to merit a mention here, or they've been so crashingly, teeth-gnashingly awful that I've avoided giving them any further thought. Sure, I could take pot shots at the likes of Sucker Punch or Pain and Gain, but why would I want to subject myself to films like those in the first place? 

Life After Beth, however, was a different proposition entirely. A zombie comedy starring Aubrey Plaza from Parks and Recreation, the most likeable show in television history? True, the reviews were mediocre at best, but that was a whole lot of things I liked in one place. Obviously, people simply weren't getting it; it was nothing more than a catastrophic taste failure on their part. That was it - it had to be.

The good

There's no denying that Life after Beth has a clear aesthetic vision, with its muted palette and naturalistic speech. It's determinedly downbeat and moves at its own pace, which is fairly refreshing in a subgenre that tends to assume that more is always more. There's a lot to admire about the tight focus and small scale, which give the audience a chance to really empathise with the characters and care about their eventual fate. The soundtrack, too, is superb, claustrophobically tight whilst never becoming intrusive.

Aubrey Plaza, of course, is a joy, gradually falling to pieces in every sense of the phrase. We never get to know the character of Beth before her untimely demise, and we probably don't need to - the film paints her as an ordinary teenage girl, still sporadically lucid even as her higher faculties evaporate and leave her as a creature of pure appetite and emotion. I was left thinking about the trope of the zombie as a metaphor for Alzheimer's disease, which is an interesting idea, but probably not one the production team intended. John C Reilly is another reliable performer, who unfortunately disappears for large chunks of the running time.

So, with the zombies dealt with, what about the actual comedy? As can probably be surmised, this is a film to evoke wry smiles rather than belly-laughs, and it's probably all the better for it. The humour comes primarily from the offbeat characterisation such as Matthew Gray Gubler's teenage gun-nut, although special mention has to be made of the equally special relationship between zombies and elevator music.

The bad

It's an unfortunate truth that modern zombie comedies (are there any other sort?) live and die under Shaun of the Dead's very, very long shadow. In my opinion, Shaun is one of the tightest, tidiest, flat-out classiest pieces of storytelling ever to make it to the multiplex, so it's hardly surprising that subsequent genre offerings have never quite measured up.

That said, Life After Beth doesn't necessarily do itself any favours - the first act in particular is so understated as to threaten to fade into complete nonexistence, and it's only once Beth begins her transformation that the film really kicks into gear. Even then, the plot is desultory and the jokes are thin on the ground, and I'm ashamed to admit I found myself dozing off every fifteen minutes or so.

As Zach, the male lead, Dane DeHaan seems uncomfortable with the comedy, faring far better as the grieving boyfriend than the likeable comic hero the later parts of the film seem to require. 

While I'm on the topic, is it really necessary for every male actor under 30 or so these days to look as though they haven't slept in half a lifetime? I don't know - maybe the whole dark circles thing is a hangover from the world of fashion and the days of heroin chic, or something. The only desire these types inspire in me is the desire to cook them a good hot meal, which is a reminder I really don't need of the facts that I'm a) fat and b) 37. Who knows, if Sebastian Stan had looked as healthy as Chris Evans, I might even have been prepared to give Captain America: The Winter Soldier a second look. Or, y'know, maybe not.

The verdict

Much as I might have loved to crack open my trusty stock of no-brainer puns, that would be an unfair assessment of a subtle, stylish piece of nonsense. As waifishly slight as its romantic leads, this is the sort of thing you're sure to like, so long as you like this sort of thing.