I’ve got a theory that I stand by relentlessly: the stories that mainstream American films refuse to make are the treasures of the European arthouse. The past decade has seen some truly memorable and unique horror films coming out of Europe, and France, in particular, continues to push boundaries of horror cinema. Moreover, one of the more globally-popular sub-genres is the zombie genre, having its roots in the earliest days of horror cinema, and enduring in many forms throughout the years, with different nations interpreting the concept of the living did in their own unique ways, whether in film, television or literature (I’m still anxiously awaiting Night of the Living Dead: The Musical). I feel like the zombie sub-genre, while entertaining and very popular, is starting to wear itself thin, and the concept of these creatures preying on a group of survivors is starting to become too conventional and, quite frankly, boring. That’s where The Night Eats the World (French: La nuit a dévoré le monde) comes in – not only is this a great horror film, it could possibly be amongst the greatest zombie films of the current century (alongside Shaun of the Dead and Train to Busan), a subversive and brilliant film that uses its concept well, not focusing solely on the concept of survival from zombies, but also on some other themes that are notably absent in many other forays into this kind of story. The Night Eats the World is proof that the European arthouse is not only the stomping ground for brooding films about existential crises but also a powerful voice in genre filmmaking, and this film joins Raw in the New French Terror Wave, subversive horror films that look at complex themes through delirious violence and gore that is shocking, but not excessive to the point where it is extreme and unwatchable. In short, The Night Eats the World is a tremendously complex horror film that is far more nuanced than one would expect from a zombie film.

The Night Eats the World begins like nearly every work about a zombie epidemic, with everything being normal, with characters not having any inkling of what is to come. The film follows Sam (Anders Danielsen Lie), attending a party in a hip urban area in Paris. He falls asleep, only to wake up the following morning to find the city has been engulfed in some virus that has turned the inhabitants into flesh-craving zombies, which roam the streets below, preying on anyone brave enough to venture out in an attempt to escape. Sam, valuing his survival over his escape, remains in the building, slowly turning it into his fortress, ransacking the empty apartments of since-deceased Parisians and creating a life for himself that is comfortable, but certainly not ideal, especially not with the threat that at any moment, the zombies may be able to infiltrate the building and take Sam for one of their own. When Sam stumbles upon Sarah (Goldshifteh Farahani), another sole survivor, he needs to decide whether to accept her companionship and possibly make both of them vulnerable to an attack through Sarah’s suggestions of escape, or does Sam continue to be a lone wolf, and remain steadfast in his safe-house, but risk being alone again? As the days go on, the horde of zombies grows larger, and Sam realizes that his days are definitely numbered.

A good portion of The Night Eats the World consists of Anders Danielsen Lie carrying the entire film – for the first two acts, he is the only notable actor, with the exception of the terrific character actor Denis Lavant, playing a strangely empathetic zombie held hostage by Sam and the victim of his paranoid ramblings, and the ever-charming Goldshifteh Farahani, who continues to prove herself as one of the most natural, endearing performers working in contemporary cinema, even when the role is quite small and inconsequential. Lie is really excellent, and with any film that is focused on only one character, it requires a performance that can carry both emotional depth and also keeps the audience captivated, and he most certainly does deliver a convincing performance. The key to the success of The Night Eats the World is not in the fact that the main character is heroic – it is that he is irreparably human, with flaws and anxieties, and everything he does is borne out of his own selfish attempts to survive. This film requires far more from the actor than simply to convey a major crisis, with the character being extremely complex. This is not the archetypal hero that we normally see in zombie movies. He’s not attempting to save the world from this plague, and even though he does show some empathy to others, everything is motivated by his inextricably human trait of wanting to survive, despite his knowledge that resisting what is coming is futile, and he might as well surrender to his fate sooner than later. The Night Eats the World is certainly extraordinarily bleak, but above being a great addition to the canon of remarkable zombie films, The Night Eats the World is also a terrific, nuanced character-driven piece, and Lie gives an astonishing performance.

There is a very simple reason as to why The Night Eats the World is one of the more original zombie films if the past few years: it keeps the story simple, while also subverting expectations and finding a winning formula that is effective but unexpected. In many ways, as alluded to above, The Night Eats the World is an anomaly of a film and something that can only be described as entirely unique. It takes the sensibilities of genre filmmaking, retaining all the gory, excessive violence and sheer, unhinged terror of some of the great B-movies of the past, and merges them effortlessly with the unrequited elegance of the European arthouse. This is one of the most artistic representations of a zombie outbreak ever portrayed, with the narrative approach being unpredictable on the virtue of it being a foray into unchartered territory. The director of the film, Dominique Rocher, breaks down the genre into what made the earliest zombie films so terrifying – the sinister silence of these rapidly approaching bodies. It evoked memories of my first encounter with George A. Romero’s seminal classic of the genre, Night of the Living Dead, when I was merely a small child, with the image of the approaching undead still haunting me to this day. Many films have used the concept of zombies in a way to experiment with terror – zombies grow more agile, more violent and more daring with every new work – yet, Rocher focuses the fact that what terrifies us is not the violence, but the silence. The staggering of the multitude of corpses towards the building in which Sam is barricaded is striking and horrifying. It is a strangely meticulous subversion of the genre, and something quite brilliant.

Rocher manages to create a film that isn’t only a zombie movie – to define it as such is somewhat reductive because it is actually about something much larger: survival in general, as well as the deterioration of society. It isn’t necessarily a film with a social message, but it shows decline. Unlike several films in the genre, where the invasion and subsequent attempts at survival take place over perhaps an evening or a few days, The Night Eats the World focuses on a much longer period, weeks or even months, which makes this film even more terrifying, as not only are we presented with these malicious beings that thirst for flesh, but we are also witness to the damage they have caused to the city. While the violent scenes are shocking, by far the most effective moments are those where we see the abandoned Parisian streets, littered with corpses, turning slowly in an apocalyptic wasteland. This is a film that is far more intent on looking at the aftermath of such an event, rather than the event itself. It would’ve been far more traditional for this film to have shown the events that transpired on the fateful night, looking at the impetus that caused it as well as the mass panic that ensues – but we’ve all seen that many times before, so to look at the effects of this event – the cause of which is never revealed – is astoundingly original, and utterly brilliant.

However, The Night Eats the World doesn’t only look at social decline, but also the decline of the self. I mentioned how this film is a character-driven piece, and Sam is far from simply being a straightforward protagonist. The film examines his life living in the aforementioned aftermath of this catastrophic event, and how he makes sense of the ongoing pandemonium around him. It shows his own decline into insanity, and how he reacts to the fact that not only is he alone in that apartment building, he may very well be alone in the world. The “last man on Earth” narrative is well-taut and considerable examined in a number of works, so The Night Eats the World doesn’t contribute too much on that front, but it does present us with a character slowly becoming more mentally unstable, unhinged and unreasonable, but not without cause: anyone in his situation would start to find themselves deteriorating, much like the world around them. Rocher constructs an intricate, meaningful story, one focused on a character who is not particularly likable, but one that the audience grows attached to, purely because of how his struggle is more realistic and resonant to other, more traditionally-heroic portrayals of individuals in such a crisis. The decline of society is closely mirrored with that of Sam’s own growing anxiety and mental instability, which was conveyed with such nuance throughout this film.

The Night Eats the World is a unique film because it finds the balance between the genres of horror and drama. This film, like I said before, is not one that wants to focus only on the horrifying zombie apocalypse happening outside, but also to look at the ways in which Sam tries to avoid the insanity that is slowly encompassing him, keeping his mind occupied while battling the forces that are trying to kill him. The film is effective in being far more than just a horror film, and I can say that The Night Eats the World contains two scenes that really resonate with me for different reasons, with one being one of the most terrifying images I have ever seen in a horror film, the other one of the most stunningly beautiful. In the case of the former, towards the beginning of the act, when Sam enters into one of the apartments that he thinks is abandoned, he encounters a rabid zombie who tries to attack him, only to have the zombie’s also-deceased wife and young daughter arriving soon. The simplicity in this image was astonishingly terrifying. In the case of the latter, throughout the film, Sam distracts himself by recording music with household items on a tape recorder, just as a way of keeping the despair at bay. Towards the end, Sarah joins him, and they share a brief moment of joyful connection in song, temporarily forgetting the cataclysm occurring just outside. The Night Eats the World is populated by such moments, and its this odd oscillation between the shockingly terrifying and the profoundly beautiful that makes this such an incredible film.

I found The Night Eats the World to be absolutely extraordinary. An unassuming, unpretentious film that blends unhinged horror with restrained character work to create something utterly memorable, but also unstoppably terrifying. It is a unique addition to the genre of zombie films, and it is as much inspired by the previous works as it is a subversion of such films. Perhaps not a film that has received the most widespread viewership, it certainly deserves the cult following it has already started to amass, exceeding the confines of simply being a genre film and being unexpectedly complex. I maintain the position that mainstream horror films may give audiences the cheap thrills and reliable stories that they adore, but if we want original, innovative horror filmmaking, we need to look towards independent filmmakers and arthouse auteurs, who often have visions that exceed what is normally represented in more popular horror films. The Night Eats the World is an astonishing film, one that leaves an indelible impression, and I will be very surprised if we see another horror film this year that is as meaningful, resonant, innovative and utterly terrifying as this one.