Practically every zombie film post-1968 owes at least a nodding debt to George A. Romero‘s shambling grandaddy Night of the Living Dead. Rarely has one film been so influential not just on a genre, but on an entire branch of monster lore. It’s less common to have a modern zombie film homage such an ur-text directly given in how many directions the genre’s mutated over the decades. Meera Menon‘s Didn’t Die overtly homage’s Romero’s classic, not only in the film’s style and content, but in its production methods. Despite an admirably communal approach and a neat twist on the undead formula, it lacks energy and wears its COVID allegory a little too heavily.

In the aftermath of a zombie outbreak, Vinita (comedian Kiran Deol, giving a suitably snarky performance) has been presenting the ‘Didn’t Die’ podcast, to an ever-dwindling audience. For the 100th episode she returns to her home town to record live, and to visit her brother and his wife who have been holed up in self-imposed quarantine since the outbreak which claimed both of Vinita’s parents. The reunion is interrupted by the appearance of Vinita’s ex Vincent (George Basil) with a baby he’s rescued from a group of ‘biters’.

Visually, Didn’t Die wears its primary influence on its sleeve. With black and white cinematography (substantially crisper than the recycled 35mm available to Romero and Co) and green text, it’s in conversation with Night… from the off. This becomes even more apparent with the majority of the narrative taking place in a large farmhouse. It also posits its ‘biters’ as a threat during the evening, with them entering a dormant stage during the day, although there is evidence that a mutation is occurring and this is beginning to change.

But really, the biters are not foremost in the mind of Menon and co-writer Paul Gleason. Like another low-budget flick The Battery, the zombie threat is often merely contextual. The genre is used as a way of examining how human relationships work within an extreme situation, and how they’re maintained once the initial event has passed and an interminable, uncertain aftermath endures.

Here, it’s COVID and how families dealt with it. For Vinita, her snarky podcast persona allows her to put a protective layer between herself and reckoning with the loss of her parents. Her brother and his wife are traumatised to the point they’ve remained virtually hermetically sealed in the house. For them, the reappearance of Vinita (and then Vincent) is way more of a jolt to their lives than the clatter and moans from outside every evening. As the zombie virus mutates, it’s taken more seriously by some, and dismissed as scaremongering by others.

While big ideas are a great way of overcoming the limitation of a low budget, Didn’t Die is an example where it’s easier to appreciate what it’s aiming for than it is to enjoy what’s on screen. It’s undoubtedly heartfelt, with a few moments that really ring true about the loss of loved ones, particularly in finding a sense of symbolic finality. Zombies make an excellent metaphor for the moment of finally letting go. Yet for the most part it lacks a spark. Deol is a likeable, vulnerable lead but it soon becomes apparent that the podcast is simply a voiceover by any other name, albeit quite an entertaining one. It’s also clear that not all the performers are up to the same standards, giving things a lopsided feel.

It was Menon and Gleason’s intention to make a little film with a small group of collaborators that played in the same sandbox as an illustrious progenitor. It succeeds, but it feels like a stopgap in between projects, resembling in both looks and atmosphere the loose-limbed Joss Whedon adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing. Its lack of dynamism rather mutes the interesting things that it does thematically, and even a vivid coda of hope is too late to really animate proceedings beyond a shuffle.

Screening as part of Sundance Film Festival