Imagine a world where a zombie apocalypse isn’t just a far-fetched fantasy but a chillingly plausible nightmare—one that unfolds not in a distant land, but right in the heart of Tasmania. This is the gripping premise of Zak Hilditch’s We Bury the Dead, a film that blurs the lines between reality and fiction in the most unsettling way. But here’s where it gets controversial: what if this horror wasn’t unleashed by some supernatural force, but by a catastrophic blunder from the United States Navy? That’s right—an experimental weapon gone awry, decimating the population of the Apple Isle and leaving Australia’s Prime Minister fuming at their supposed ally. It’s a story that taps into the anxieties of our time, where geopolitical tensions and technological missteps feel all too real.
Hilditch, a Perth-based filmmaker known for his genre-bending work, crafts a cinematic experience that’s equal parts disaster movie and gut-wrenching horror. The undead here aren’t your typical mindless shufflers; they’re a haunting metaphor for the lingering trauma of loss. And this is the part most people miss: beneath the gore and chaos lies a deeply personal exploration of grief. Hilditch himself admits, ‘We Bury the Dead started as an exploration of grief, following the death of my mother, dealing with the trauma of that and finding a way to move through it.’ The film’s emotional core is as raw as its apocalyptic setting is vivid.
But let’s talk about the star power. Star Wars alumna Daisy Ridley delivers a performance that’s nothing short of extraordinary. She plays Ava, an American physiotherapist who arrives in the militarized town of Devonport under the guise of aiding the cleanup. Her true mission? To venture into the devastated south of the island in search of her husband, who was visiting on business when the apocalypse struck. Ava’s journey is a heart-wrenching blend of vulnerability, determination, and sheer terror. As Hilditch puts it, ‘This movie wouldn’t exist without an actress who could hold it in the quiet moments when the camera’s just observing her face and what she’s going through behind the eyes.’ Ridley’s portrayal is a masterclass in emotional depth, making Ava’s quest feel both intimate and monumental.
Now, let’s not forget the Aussie charm. Brenton Thwaites steals scenes as Clay, a motorbike-riding bogan who becomes Ava’s unlikely ally. His penchant for lobbing hilariously crude Aussie curses—C-bombs included—adds a layer of dark humor to the film. But here’s a thought-provoking question: How did American audiences react to Clay’s unfiltered Aussie vernacular when the film premiered at SXSW? According to Hilditch, ‘The Americans could not get enough of Brenton. We’re still so exotic, to them, and Clay’s the archetype for what they hope all Australians are like.’ Is this a celebration of cultural quirks, or does it play into stereotypes? You decide.
The tension escalates when Ava and Clay’s escape attempt is intercepted by Mark Coles Smith’s character, Riley, a law enforcement officer with a mysterious agenda. Hilditch spent four days filming a nail-biting sequence with Smith and Ridley in a creepy old house, drawing inspiration from Ira Levin’s Veronica’s Room. ‘Shooting that sequence was like making a whole different movie,’ Hilditch explains. ‘One minute we’re in the elements, wrangling zombies, then we’re making a Hitchcockian thriller.’ It’s this seamless blend of genres that makes We Bury the Dead so compelling.
Hilditch’s career has always thrived on balancing the apocalyptic with the intimate, and this film is no exception. ‘I’ve always had a love of ordinary people dealing with the extraordinary,’ he says. ‘We Bury the Dead is that on a deeply personal, cathartic level, in a much more profound way than my previous work.’ Echoes of his 2013 breakout hit, These Final Hours, are evident, particularly in the way both films explore human resilience in the face of impending doom. But We Bury the Dead goes further, weaving in themes of unfinished business and the lengths we’ll go to for closure.
So, is We Bury the Dead just another zombie flick, or is it a profound meditation on grief, survival, and the human condition? And what does it say about our world when a fictional disaster feels eerily plausible? These are the questions Hilditch leaves us with, inviting us to ponder long after the credits roll. The film is now in cinemas—go watch it, and let’s discuss. Do you think it strikes the right balance between horror and heart? Or does it lean too heavily into one at the expense of the other? The comments are open—let the debate begin.
