I'm not a big Jim Jarmusch fan, and this film is exactly why. I really liked it but I also just don't care about any of it. The only other Jarmusch flick I'd say I really enjoyed is Only Lovers Left Alive, and that I probably would watch with this as a double feature.
In a plodding, intentionally banal answer to the aimless but kinetic frenzy of other zombie flicks, The Dead Don't Die manages to get a few things right. The beginning of the film feels not unlike something akin to Fargo, as small town Centerville personalities interact with seemingly little point or excitement. If there are protagonists, they're a trio of cops (the only cops in town), whose deadpan delivery foreshadows the undead citizens unearthing themselves. The characters have names, but we'll refer to them as the actors because that's what matters in the movie. Adam Driver flatly intones that the proceedings won't end well, though he has no rationale behind this prediction. Bill Murray, annoyed with him but clearly tired of being a cop and doing anything more than calming disputes about missing chickens, drives them around town and us through the film. Chloe Sevigny, trying to fit into the boys' club, is completely wasted as the feminist she is and relegated to staying behind and being all but shamed by the guys the entire time.
The first half of the film is entirely zombie-less; at least of the undead kind. Rather, we're introduced to the wacky Centerville townsfolk, most of whom are either too mindless and stupid for their own good -- Steve Buscemi sports a "Make America White Again" hat in a diner while talking with Danny Glover -- or too smart but inert for their own good -- Caleb Landry Jones knows exactly what's up but cannot save himself -- and we know they will all die. Then again, I certainly had some hopes that the funny but languid first half would fertilize the juicy stuff later. This hope was mobilized by the presence of Tilda Swinton, a Scottish immigrant and mortician whose abilities with a katana and skill for postmortem drag makeup make her the coolest figure we see on screen.
My hopes were dashed. Once the undead arrive, the film redirects itself from entertainment to doldrums. A zombie film is -- almost by nature at this point -- a commentary on society, and with the presence of a few Trumpisms in this Centerville that has probably not changed for several decades, we are poised and ready for some interesting Night of the Living Dead political cannibalism. We don't get much, and what we get is pretty silly. The zombies seem single-mindedly intent on the material goods they loved in life. Carol Kane wants her "chardonnay", one woman wants Xanax, Iggy Pop wants coffee; they speak their desires in groans and whispers meant to be funny but at most hit sadly close to home. In an age of smart phones and stupid presidents, we are too attached to comforting materialism and ignorant of the real perils of our world. Case in point: the mindless chatter about "polar fracking" that seems to have altered the world's axis and spin and reanimated the dead. We hear it several times but nobody seems to care much, or even to know anything about it beyond using the phrase vaguely.
It's a bloodless film, and then some. Not only is its plot limp, its humor stilted and dry, and its actors mostly wasted, but even the rare action is rendered into black CGI dust instead of gore. And all this is to say nothing of Tilda Swinton who, right before the end, gets sucked up into a UFO and flown away with no ado whatsoever. It's just a weird movie. Worth a watch, but only once. Clearly Jarmusch and his team are having a grand ol' joke, but I suspected more than once the joke was on us.
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