They Came Back

I liked this movie. It had a dreamy, parable-like quality to it that reminded me of films like Man Facing Southeast (1986) and The Rapture (1991). The focus is not really on the plot, so if you are annoyed with movies that don't explain a lot of the action, this is probably not the movie for you. Some would probably find it a little pretentious too; personally, it was well within my own threshold.

The cinematography is really good throughout, and the acting is well-done. The director is very successful in evoking a strange, off-kilter feeling, which predominates and occasionally escalates into eeriness and even a little dread. The newly returned dead are enigmas to their living relations and the audience both.

I felt somewhat let down by the ending, but not as much as I would have thought if I'd known the plot of the movie beforehand. Although some things in the movie (mostly plot elements) were not resolved to my satisfaction, I did feel like the character development was complete by the end. That focus is fairly typical of the movie as a whole.

After I realized this movie is not a horror or a trash one, just because it has zombies in its plot I thought it has a great creative mind behind the story; however, when the movie ended I felt there was something missing in the story. The movie does not care much about explaining its core issue that is about the coming of the dead people themselves. Why did they return to live if all they want is to go to the tunnels? It does not say where the tunnels will lead them. To heaven or to hell? to the Elygian fields? to Mars? or to some new dimension? I would not bother if the movie was longer just to explain this part carefully. If so,the movie would be brilliant. Unfortunately it is not a brilliant movie. It is only good to make us think about the crazy hypothesis that the movie is talking about, which is, at least, interesting. My note is to say that according to my own interpretations, the movie never tries to sound funny as some other critics say, but tragic and hypothetical. People are never prepared to welcome their dead relatives with eager if they knock at their door after some years of "absence", even if you love them so much.

This film stirs a few emotional quandaries, many of which a viewer may choose not to explore. If the purpose of film is to generate thought and reflection as much as to entertain, 'Les Revenants' succeeds by virtue of it's creepy essence and the personal and social problems we'd encounter as individuals if faced with the reality of having our dead loved ones come back to us. The subject is handled cleverly and touchingly by the director who never attempts to drive our view but allows the characters to help us define our feelings. Particularly perplexing for a parent who might give just about anything to see their fallen child again. The misty night scenes, serene almost drugged manner with which the dead carry themselves and the evolution of divided feelings regarding their return by the living give the film an ethereal pace which may disappoint flesh hungry zombie fans.

I'll admit, Campillo's "Les Revenants" is several artistic steps below (and two hours shorter than) any Tarkovsky epic. But as I watched the film, I couldn't get Tarkovsky's original "Solaris" out of my mind. The two films share a kind of somnambulist's sadness, a lumbering quality of going nowhere slowly, a dreaminess that falls somewhere between irritating nightmare and ho-hum sexdream. Oh, and both movies are populated with previously dead people, of course.

"Solaris" and "Les Revenants" pose similar questions as well: Are we dealing with actual "returnees," or are we simply struggling with the very palpable memories of those who have passed on? (Think about how "empty" the zombies are in both films and how they just sort of fade away--physically or spiritually--in both films.) Are these returnees dangerous to us? Or are we simply harming ourselves? More poignant, are WE the actual zombies? Hmmmm, hard to say. The film doesn't offer up any easy answers either as we see the crypt-dwellers attempting to return to their lives in the little French village as if things were...just fine.

And regarding the lack of answers, we also never find out what it was like to actually be dead either. If anything annoyed me about Campillo's "avant zombie flick," it's that. I kept waiting, wondering, would someone finally ask their deceased relative or returnee-loved-one lounging in bed next to them: "So, what's the afterlife like exactly? I mean, did that coffin get cramped? Did lying in the ground for ten years get irritating? Did you ever get the urge to roll over but didn't have enough room to maneuver? Would you choose cremation next time around, or would you just take a battery-powered TV with you into your grave next time?" But none of those topics ever came up. Of course, such a conversation really wouldn't have fit the arty tenor of the movie anyway.

But COME ON! ADMIT IT! These are precisely the weighty issues we want to hear about from experienced dead folks, right? I mean if you are having a picnic with a zombie (and YOU aren't the picnic, that is) you're gonna ask. You know you would.

I realize it is unlikely this movie would exist if it weren't for the wonderful Romero and his ilk. But overall, I offer a hearty kudos to Campillo for breathing life into the long-dead zombie subgenre. There are SO MANY zombie films out there (they seem to appear weekly), and I admit that I grew up digesting many of those Italian, German, and English delights. But with age and experience, you eventually tire of fast food, and you realize that the next "Zombie Intestine Massacre" flick is simply and mindlessly repeating itself so that every SPFX guy on the studio lot can keep his or her job. That's fine. But kiddies looking for gut-munching scenes will find none here--let them go elsewhere and leave the adults in peace.

The dead have inexplicably returned to life en masse across the world; it's the resurrection of the million recently deceased, who have left the cemeteries to invade the cities. But no crucifixes, no shotguns, useless, they don't eat. The brain, the heart, the liver, the intestines-no need, no taste without pleasure.

They fix you with one of those icy stares from another world, unknown even beyond the unimaginable to our spiritual understanding of the nature of creation. A description of inert, wandering bodies, without strength or feeling, just human beings, all restrained, serving as a vestige of a previous life.

And since the phenomenon stopped suddenly, as if the doors of the ambiguous, ambivalent world of psychological shock, full of doubt and mystery of life on Earth, had closed again, a real hole, black, dark, obscure, and abyssal, of terrestrial organic matter awaits us, a down-to-earth return to this. We have now entered a new and particularly delicate phase:

The reintegration of the dead into their families. Mourning for the registered inhabitants of a small French town, with this unexpected miracle: thousands try to integrate into a society that has changed for them, the society in which they live or in which they lived, living things in their lifetime, even death knows no more in this point of no return, the void, the absolute of cinema, 4-5.