Zombi Child

Zombi Child blends voodoo, boarding school, pretty women, and some sort of avant-garde horror into a daub of mediocrity, painting in broad, superficial strokes that look pretty but ultimately amount to nothing of value. It tells two disconnected stories (or at least, that's what writer/director Bertrand Bonello wants you to think): one of a reanimated man forced to work in sugar plantations, and another of a young, high-school girl trying to fit into boarding school while pining for her boyfriend. The film lacks any tension, dramatic or otherwise; although being touted as a horror film it lacks suspense; and it lacks an engaging storyline and characters, making the almost two-hour film really feel its runtime.

Zombi Child suffers from various problems, although not all at once. It starts off promising, setting up the two storylines quite well with vivid imagery and fantastic cinematography. Almost immediately after, however, the endgame becomes painfully obvious and the rest of the film is merely a slog to that point, watching teen girls be angsty and sighing while speaking to each other in hushed tones under muted sepia lights. The writing is painfully lacklustre, with dialogue woefully inadequate and characters chewing the scenery more than anything else at any given time. Lack of dialogue doesn't bother me; after all, Beanpole does a fantastic job with sparse dialogue; however, the sparse dialogue in Zombi Child, designed to come off as artistic, only presents itself as shallow and vapid.

Unlike The Wave, however, Zombi Child is not a complete loss of cinema. The film works best when it completely gives itself up to the legend, with the mysterious, occult scenes where voodoo is performed a highlight in cinematography. The acting is brilliant: both women (Louise Labeque and Wislanda Louimat) perform admirably in the spotlight, doing the best with what they're given: Labeque playing the vapid, love-lorn teenager filled with angst and hormones, and Louimat playing what appears to be the only person of colour in the film.

The final third of the movie is its saving grace, with beautiful cinematography and displays of Haitian (or is it voodoo?) culture that almost make the slog through the first two-thirds worth it.

Zombi Child could have been so much more if it had focussed its attentions on the tale it was trying to tell. It wastes its time talking high-school romance and pining for faraway lovers, when it could have been trying to build interest and suspense. It also might have helped if we, the audience, weren't aware of how things were going to turn out in the first ten minutes or so. In fact, it might have been better if Zombi Child had been two movies: one exploring the life of a man returned from the grave and forced into slavery, and one where a young woman does everything in her power to keep herself together after her love falls apart.

Instead, what we have is two halves of slightly under-baked pies struggling to be one. I mean, I'd eat it, but I think I'd enjoy it a lot more if it had been something else. At least it looks pretty.

The director himself has said Zombi Child is a "horror" movie, but I think this is really true only in the most literal sense. Bonello filmed much of the movie on location in Haiti and the rest, presumably, in France. This fact of production - filming scenes that take place in 1962 Haiti, and some that take place in a contemporary Haiti which doesn't seem to have changed much; and filming most of the movies contemporary moments in modern France - encapsulates the movie's thematic intent. The latter are firmly rooted in colonialism, the ongoing legacy of slavery, and the cultural dialectic between assimilationism and the fierce preservation of traditionalism (arguably, two different kinds of survival, which is also a core theme: surviving the multi-generational damage of colonial )oppression.

If this all sounds deep, it is. This is a brief film, around 85 minutes, and the first 60 contain very little of what could be considered horror in the sense of "horror movie." The horror in the first two thirds of the movie is purely thematic and a historical. It isn't until the last part of the movie where Zombi Child's oversimplified classification of a horror movie becomes evident. In other words, those going into this movie looking for a traditional zombie flick are likely to be disappointed. It's really more of a drama in which certain horror elements come into play, but almost purely as metaphor.

Zombi Child is told in two alternating timelines. In 1962, we see a man in Haiti named Clairvius (Mackenson Bijou) fall suddenly and some short time later is buried at a funeral. That evening he is dug up by some men who awaken him into a half-dead-half-alive zombi state. He and others are corralled like animals, led to a plantation, and used to perform laborious tasks as slaves. They moan in agony, their existence a curse.

In modern-day France, Mélissa (Wislanda Louimat), who moved from Haiti after the 2010 earthquake, becomes friends with Fanny (Louise Labèque). The other kids think Mélissa is a bit odd, but Fanny likes her. She likes the way she dances. Unbeknownst to Fanny, Mélissa harbors a dark secret about her family that ties the two intersecting timelines together.

Zombi Child is one of those frustrating movies that has such an intriguing premise, it's such a disappointment that it never comes together. Haitian culture and voodoo historically get a bad rap on film. Here, you have a movie that wants to present a bit more accuracy to zombis (making sure to drop the "e" at the end, because these supposed undead are not the same as George Romero's creatures), but it never does anything else beyond that. It believes that its premise is strong enough to float an entire movie that has no story.

I've seen comparisons of Zombi Child made to Jacques Tourneur's I Walked with a Zombie, which is fair on a totally surface level because they both deal with the ritual of resurrection to enslave a victim in their own body, as opposed to the ghoulish figure we have in film now. But I Walked with a Zombie is a crash course in economic filmmaking. It boasts about four times as much story in a significantly shorter overall run time than Zombi Child. In Jacques Tourneur's film, we're introduced to a rich history, both to an island and its inhabitants, their rituals, but also a number of characters, their relationships to each other, and a story that takes twists and turns until it all leads to a shocking ending.

Zombi Child director Bertrand Bonello could take a few lessons from Tourneur. His film has two parts, both of which commit the ultimate cinematic sin by being excruciating in their boredom. One half is the story of an escaped zombi aimlessly wandering scenic locations; the other half is a dull "girls at a boarding school" story that dedicates so much of its time to the tedium of actually being a student at this school. In most other films, when a teacher is giving the kids a lesson, it will either A) Be short and sweet to give us a passing understanding that, hey, these kids are in school and this is what their daily life is like. Or, B) Something the teacher says will be an ominous piece of foreshadowing. Here, it is neither. We simply have to sit through one agonizing lecture after another, as though we had enlisted in some virtual reality simulation where we are the student. Boredom is the emotion most effectively conveyed by this film.

Worse yet, when the film finally discovers itself and takes a turn toward the interesting, the results are unintentionally hilarious. Since this reveal occurs in the final fifteen minutes, I don't want to give too much away, but there's a scene where an evil presence speaks through someone else, and the lip syncing doesn't work correctly. It's like those videos on TikTok with someone mouthing along to a movie quote and doing a really bad job of it. But that's the least of the film's problems. The evil voice, oh lord, the evil voice. Instead of some deep, booming, terrifying voice from another realm, it's this high-pitched, whining cackle, like Dave Chappelle doing his impression of Rick James.

And then it all sort of unceremoniously ends without many crucial questions being answered. There are basic rules for filmmaking and storytelling that are made to be broken, but there's a caveat: You have to know what you're doing. If you're breaking these rules, it has to be for a reason. If you can pull it off, you're a rebel of cinema. You've rewritten these rules and showed what you're capable of. If you don't pull it off, it just looks like you never understood the craft to begin with.

Zombi Child feels so half-assed. There are these momentary glimpses into a better film and what could have been, but it's all on autopilot. We never have any emotional attachment to the story or given a reason to care.

The zombie film has come a long way and has returned to the beginning: from the movies about slaves who worked in cane fields, it went through all kinds of cannibal gore and splatter, to finally go back to its origins, such as "Atlantique", a return to social issues, telling the story of modern young slaves in Africa. This other attempt remained halfway. For a good while, I thought, "This may be the one that would set the record straight". I also found it interesting, for its respectful description of a (fascistoid) school of privileged girls in Paris, and of the girls themselves, as pleasant, intelligent and normal beings. A few scenes, such as the insubstantial class about the French revolution, were distracting from the main subject. But the "main subject", which seemed to be the encounter of two cultures in the 21st century, based on the story of a real zombie (that of the Haitian Clairvius Narcisse, who claimed while being alive that he had been a victim of zombification), seen through the eyes of Narcisse's granddaughter, a girl who survived the 2010 earthquake in Haiti... that is not, in fact, the "main subject." The "main subject" is about a girl who is desperate to meet up with her lover Pablo to make love until she is dry, but the girl disguises her tickle with cheesy declarations of love as in the worst romance novel, which we have to listen to every time Narcisse's story advances a little, because it is she who will take us to the "scène de rigueur" of cheap supernatural horror, which, as in "The Serpent and the Rainbow", almost erases all good intentions, a collapse rounded off with a song by Rogers & Hammerstein. Anyway ... that's a shame, but maybe it is asking too much from Bertrand Bonello...

P. S. In the case of Craven's "The Serpent and the Rainbow", we knew the horror fest would happen in any moment, so although it weakens the movie a bit, it was a typical horror movie "a la Craven", and a very good one.

Although the last twenty minutes are breathless, the introduction languishes and lasts about eighty minutes. Thus, in order to appreciate the very ending, you'll have to be patient... very patient...