In Dominique Rocher’s The Night Eats the World (2018), a party girl named Fanny (Sigrid Bouaziz) has some awkward moments with her antisocial percussionist ex-boyfriend Sam (Anders Danielsen Lie), right before she and a couple hundred of her douchiest acquaintances all die horribly in the zombie apocalypse.
Sam survives the initial outbreak, which apparently he’s been preparing for, because he wastes no time doing everything right to seal off Fanny’s Parisian apartment, hunker down Winchester-style, and wait for the end of the world to blow over. Only it doesn’t blow over, and he goes the slightest bit psychotic.
With that one proviso, he’s doing all right. You get the sense that his life isn’t really that different now that he’s living it among walking corpses. Maybe he goes out less? Or maybe he doesn’t. Given how easily he adapts to the loss of humanity, he’s at least as frightening as any of the zombies, which we don’t see enough of, but which are effective when we do. (They’re fast-moving, dumb, clinically dead, non-decomposing twitchers, if you’re curious.) But some backstory on the guy would have been nice, something to explain why he doesn’t blink when civilization literally collapses. Is he ex-special forces? A survivalist? Paranoid? Is he a sovereign citizen? What’s he doing in Paris?
A certain segment of the target audience secretly yearns for a zombie apocalypse. Not just because they’ll get to blow people’s heads off, although that’s part of the appeal. But more because they’ll never have to go back to work or share anything ever with anyone else. I suspect that this is a movie for them.