#Alive (2020) Review

“#Alive” Theatrical Poster

Director: Cho Il-hyeong
Cast: Yoo Ah-In, Park Shin-Hye, Jeon Bae-Su, Lee Hyun-Wook, Jin So-Yeon, Oh Hye-Won, Lee Chae-Kyung, Jeon Woon-Jong, Lee Kyu-Ho, Son Kyoung-Won
Running Time: 98 min.

By Paul Bramhall

Since 2016’s Train to Busan the zombie genre has continued to attract filmmakers in South Korea, eager to catch up on a genre that for many countries has been a mainstay of horror filmmaking since the 70’s. Whether it be zombies on a train, in a post-apocalyptic future (Peninsula), or in the ancient past (Rampant), there still seems to be plenty of gas left in the tank, so in 2020 we get the ‘zombies in an apartment’ take on the genre with #Alive.

The debut of director Cho Il-hyeong, #Alive gives us the 2nd ‘zombies in an apartment’ movie in as many years, with the 2019 Indonesian production Zeta: When the Dead Awaken following the same setup. Unlike its predecessor though, #Alive comes with the star power of leading man Yoo Ah-in, hot off headlining Lee Chang-dong’s Burning. We never learn that much about the character Ah-in in playing, beyond the fact that he enjoys online gaming, which is exactly what he’s doing when we’re first introduced. Home alone with his family at work, the gaming is disturbed when the online friends he’s interacting with start discussing the crazy news that’s breaking on TV. It turns out members of the public in parts of Seoul are showing signs of aggressive behaviour and cannibalism, and unfortunately for Ah-in, a look out the window of the apartment he resides in confirms he’s in one of the affected areas.

So goes the premise of #Alive, which initially seems to be more focused on how to survive in isolation rather than the threat of flesh eating undead. It’s a focus which is relevant considering it was made in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, which saw (and continues in some cases) many parts of the world in lockdown. The different perspective is one which can be appreciated, as no matter how much of a fan you are of the zombie genre, there can be no denying there’s certain limitations as to exactly how much can be done with it. With the zombies essentially acting as a plot device that means Ah-in can’t leave the confines of where he lives, it becomes more about the horror of losing the every-day conveniences that most of us take for granted.

The decision to skip going to the grocery store and get straight into gaming means there’s not that much food in stock, and some of the most palpable moments of horror come from the smaller scenes, like when Ah-in goes to turn the tap on and no water comes out, the supply having being cut off. With only his father’s extensive liquor cabinet to provide liquid refreshment, it’s not long before he starts finding solace in the bottom of a whiskey glass. Water isn’t the only thing to dry up though, with electricity going shortly after, turning an environment where you should feel most safe, into one which suddenly feels like a prison you can’t escape from.

#Alive is at its best when the focus is on this element of self-isolation, and the ingenuity required to stay both mentally and physically strong. It’s a shame then that, despite the punchy runtime, the more #Alive progresses, the more it becomes a decidedly generic and average zombie romp. Proceedings initially get fleshed out (pardon the pun) with the introduction of another survivor in an apartment from the opposite building, played by Park Shin-hye (Heart Blackened, The Royal Tailor). The pair begin communicating through their tablets and phones, often with the assistance of a pair of binoculars, with Ah-in’s tech savviness played off against Shin-hye’s obvious love of camping and the outdoors.

With Ah-in given someone to interact with, #Alive begins to feel more like a disaster movie (which it could easily be argued it is), as the pair utilise drones, mountaineering ropes, and old-school walkie talkies to connect with each other and share supplies. Using a variety of ingenious methods to stay alive, it feels somewhat disappointing then that when it comes to finally leaving their apartments, they do so by simply abseiling down into the waiting horde below, and opting for the usual run and gun technique. It almost feels like director Il-hyeong (who also wrote the script) couldn’t for the life of him figure out a smart way to justify the pair needing to launch themselves into a mass of zombies, so in the end gave up and took the decision to betray the characters up to this point smart choices.

With the aim of reaching another building believed to be less populated with the undead, #Alive takes on a similar structure to 2019’s Exit, only instead of ascending the various floors to escape a toxic gas, it’s to escape the zombie hordes. However the initial promise of the opening third can’t seem to be rekindled, with the latter half becoming increasingly pedestrian. This is no more apparent than the inclusion a whole sub-plot where the pair are taken in by a seemingly good Samaritan, only for more sinister intentions to be revealed once they’re already too involved. It’s a sequence which has been recycled in plenty of other zombie flicks over the years, with the reasons behind why someone would be so eager to take in a couple of strangers being as predictable as you’re probably thinking, and it amounts to nothing more than filler.

There’s also a niggling feeling that #Alive would have been much more relatable if the apartments the characters find themselves trapped in aren’t so, well, spacious and appealing. While we never get to know what occupations the characters have, we’re a world away here from the semi-basement that the likes of Parasite takes place in. Il-hyeong’s set design means the script has to work extra hard to wring tension out of the scenarios contained in it, simply because its easy to feel like there are far worse places to be stuck in than the apartments Ah-in and Shin-hye find themselves in.

Needless to say, Il-hyeong’s debut is most engaging when it focuses on the interactions between Ah-in and Shin-hye, away from the zombies and situational filler. With the hordes being sensitive to noise, many of their scenes are surprisingly quiet, communicating only through gestures and hushed tones. Both keep #Alive watchable thanks to their performances, and do well with injecting personality into their characters despite the (intentionally) minimalist script.

To Il-hyeong’s credit, he does imbue proceedings with some suitably tension filled scenes, which act as welcome exclamation marks throughout (look out for the scene involving a zombie fireman). Despite this, like all of Korea’s most popular zombie offerings, the zombies themselves aren’t particularly scary, and there seems to be some unspoken rule that gore should be kept to a minimum if none at all. Call me shallow, but part of the horror in a zombie movie is witnessing these undead flesh eaters, well, eat flesh. Like all Korean zombie outings since Train to Busan, don’t expect too much blood or gore on show here (outside of one admittedly entertaining decapitation).

It sounds like I’ve been particularly harsh on #Alive, however at the end of the day it’s a perfectly acceptable zombie flick. It does nothing new with the genre, but then doesn’t commit any crimes against it either. The main frustration really comes from the strong opening, which seemed to indicate a new take on the genre, with the horror coming from the world going to pieces rather than the threat of the zombies themselves. I wish Il-hyeong had followed through on those initial ideas, but ultimately #Alive becomes just another entry in an already over-populated genre, one that will be a passable way to kill 95 minutes for anyone who enjoys zombie flicks, and likely a forgettable distraction for everyone else. To sum it up, Il-hyeong’s debut is #Alivebutonlyjust.

Paul Bramhall’s Rating: 6/10