Indie Spotlight: Die Alone (2024)

In a genre as overgrown as zombie horror, “Die Alone” blooms as a tender standout, weaving apocalyptic mayhem with heartfelt romance.

As 2024 continues to offer an embarrassment of riches horror-wise, I found myself rooting for the love story underpinning this plant-based, Memento-esque zombie entry.

Think, think, think, Kris. How can you gush about this movie without spoilers? It’s hard. I’ll do my best here at the top and then will warn you when I just can’t contain my heart barf anymore.

Basic plotline? A viral, plant-based pandemic hits that causes humans to be reclaimed by nature. As in, they become killer plant zombies, eat a few humans, and then eventually just get integrated back into the Earth. (A kinda cool play on the circle of life.) Ethan (Douglas Smith) wakes up in a small, abandoned town with amnesia. His girlfriend, Emma (Kimberly-Sue Murray), is missing. He connects almost immediately with Mae (Carrie-Anne Moss), who offers shelter and support.

As Mae and Ethan fight off plant zombies and decide whether to trust other human survivors, two looming questions loom: What happened to Emma? What is so special about Ethan that Mae protects him the way she does? Ethan’s flashbacks and Mae’s actions offer more clues until the truth is revealed.

At first, I was worried. I was feeling a lot of déjà vu.

From. The Last of Us. The Walking Dead.

I mean, the list of potential influences is endless. The zombie content space—and specifically approaching it through the set-in-an-abandoned-small-town-and-trust-no-one lens—is solidly saturated.

Yet three things offered in the set-up kept me engaged and hopeful:

• Ethan’s flashbacks of his relationship with Emma tugged my heartstrings just right and flipped my hopeless romantic switch.
• The gentle and light-hearted undercurrent juxtaposes the apocalyptic survival realities of violence and despair, like the choice to make the virus plant-based, Myrtle the garden zombie, and some of the banter between Mae and Ethan.
• The potential for an important lesson related to planetary health.

In my opinion, that hope was rewarded and appropriately fed, not just by the fresh-enough story but also by the chemistry and intrigue of the two central relationships.

Ethan and Emma’s love and romantic connection are palpable.

The pain Ethan feels over the uncertainty of Emma’s fate and whereabouts is deftly portrayed through flashbacks and a recurring dream, in which they have an intimate moment under the sheets, and Emma is always painfully ripped from their togetherness.

Ethan is immediately portrayed as an unreliable source of truth, which left me wondering how deeply Ethan’s memories were luring me in. Pieces of the puzzle are clearly missing, which causes discomfort about Emma’s fate and who might be responsible for it.

Ethan and Mae’s comradery builds.

Carrie-Anne Moss does an exceptional job portraying both Mae’s loneliness and desire for connection, alongside her unwavering commitment to survival. In Memento, she has a similar supporting purpose as a bar waitress, helping Leonard (Guy Pearce) find the truth through his amnesia.

Douglas Smith brings an exhausted and kind nature to Ethan’s condition, inspiring empathy and concern—especially in his moments of peak confusion.

In a little IMDb search, it turns out Douglas Smith and Carrie-Anne Moss worked together previously on The Bye Bye Man, which I never saw; however, I will add to my watch list to support this duo’s efforts. If one of them suggested bringing the other into this project because of that previous experience, it was a great call.

I cared deeply about their relationship and needed to appreciate why and for how long Mae had been supporting Ethan as a caregiver, given the severity of his amnesia, truly would be a death sentence in this reality.

There are also a few things I cannot leave unsaid, so from this point on, know you’ve entered the spoiler zone.

Can I please get more of this kind of horror?

The kind that blends violence and tenderness? I want more of these kinds of films that are equally scary and vulnerable.

I’m starting a little list and will happily add others at your suggestion. Right now, I’ll toss in Bones and All, The Crow (1994), and The Fly (1986) to start. Your Monster is on my watch list, which I appreciate from some of you that it might qualify. Warm Bodies is a little too fluffy for the feeling I’m going for. Teetering on inclusion is The Shape of Water. And let’s not limit it to romantic love. Let the Right One In (2008), you belong here, too.

Hopefully, this gives you enough to work with to help me build a go-to lovey-dovey horror list.

Die Alone is a sentimental, blood-soaked zombie flick that will grow on you in unexpected and lovely ways, and I welcome any and all future Douglas Smith and Carrie-Anne Moss collaborations.