We Bury the Dead Review: Daisy Ridley Leads a Somber, Human-Driven Zombie Tale

Daisy Ridley leads We Bury the Dead, a grounded zombie tale focused on grief and human connection.

We Bury the Dead — A Somber, Human-First Zombie Thriller That Trades Gore for Grief

Zach Hilditch has always had a knack for peeling back humanity in the middle of catastrophe. From These Final Hours to the slow-burn dread of 1922, the filmmaker gravitates toward emotional fallout more than spectacle. With We Bury the Dead, he wades deeper into horror territory—this time through the lens of a zombie thriller anchored by Daisy Ridley and Brenton Thwaites. And while it doesn’t rewrite the genre, it holds onto something a lot of zombie films forget: the dead were people first.

The premise isn’t revolutionary. Reanimated corpses have walked across screens for nearly a century, ranging from George Romero’s social-commentary slow movers to the rage-fueled infected of 28 Weeks Later. But Hilditch isn’t trying to reinvent the infection. Instead, he leans into the moral and emotional weight of resurrection—echoing ideas explored in series like The Returned or the early voodoo-focused origins of the zombie myth. There’s always been a spiritual question attached to the undead: what’s left inside? And We Bury the Dead refuses to shy away from that conversation.

Ridley’s character, Ava, is the beating heart of the film. She’s not a warrior, not a survivor dripping with grit—she’s simply a woman searching for her husband Mitch, who vanished during a corporate retreat in Tasmania just as the outbreak sparked. Ridley channels something raw here, navigating the turmoil of grief, uncertainty, and marital strain without overplaying the melodrama. Once she crosses paths with Brenton Thwaites—ever the reliable, rough-around-the-edges everyman—the film settles into a rhythm. He’s the anchor she doesn’t want but absolutely needs, the unapologetic, go-with-the-flow partner who helps her keep her footing as the world fractures around her.

One of the film’s more refreshing concepts is its refusal to treat the undead as a monolith. Some bodies rise. Some don’t. And the randomness of it creates a different kind of fear—not fear of the attack, but fear of recognition. Fear of what version of a loved one might be standing in front of you. Hilditch pulls tension from emotional proximity rather than violence, and for some viewers, that will be the hook. For others, it may feel like We Bury the Dead keeps teasing its own zombie chaos without ever fully letting loose.

The teasing is intentional. Think of it like the difference between a burlesque show and a strip club. If World War Z and Train to Busan are the full-throttle strip clubs with wall-to-wall action, We Bury the Dead is the burlesque—slow reveals, withheld payoffs, atmosphere over adrenaline. And if The Walking Dead is the old strip club where the neon flickers and the dancers are clocking in at noon, Hilditch’s film sits comfortably in the middle, stylish enough to feel modern, restrained enough to leave you wanting more.

There’s political undertone here too, particularly in how the film frames the outbreak’s origins. It evokes the vibe of 28 Weeks Later, where government intervention, American influence, and global consequences intertwine. It isn’t subtle about its disdain for current American leadership, and given the state of international politics, that’s hardly surprising. Expect more films in the next few years to lay U.S. culpability into their narratives—Hilditch just gets ahead of the curve.

Where We Bury the Dead stumbles is in its late reveals. The deeper motivations behind certain characters veer into first-world-problem territory—small grievances inflated against the backdrop of mass death. It doesn’t break the film, but it cheapens some of the emotional groundwork. There’s also a lingering desire for more zombie interaction. Horror fans will feel the slow-burn intention, but many may crave sharper teeth, faster escalation, or a few more set pieces to balance the melancholy.

Still, the film’s message lands: apocalypse strips away pretense. It exposes who we are when the world stops pretending it’s orderly. Some people lose their humanity; others cling to it until it snaps. Mark Coles Smith’s character, Riley, adds this reminder—grief can warp even the kindest soul into something unrecognizable.

Underneath all the infection, all the fear, We Bury the Dead quietly asks whether we’re capable of letting go. Can we bury our dead, emotionally and spiritually, without losing ourselves in the process? Hilditch doesn’t pretend to have an answer. He just lets the cards fall and reminds us that once they’re dealt, you still have to play the hand—even if the dealer is gone and the table is burning.

Daisy Ridley delivers one of her most grounded performances. Brenton Thwaites provides the unpolished charm the story needs. And while the film isn’t groundbreaking, it’s honest. It reaches for something beyond gore: the fragile thread between the living and the lingering.

HMU gives We Bury the Dead a 3 out of 5—a thoughtful, restrained, and emotionally aware entry into zombie cinema that takes risks, avoids clichés when it can, and still finds room for the undead to wander with purpose.

We Bury the Dead will be released nationwide, only in theaters, on January 2, 2026, from Vertical.