The zombie genre is littered with hybrid concepts and perspectives, all an attempt to differentiate itself from the classic George A. Romero era. Recently, Alex Garland’s reimagining of the 28 Days Later films gained acclaim for its meditative commentary on grief, remembrance, isolationism, and radicalization. Zack Snyder returned to the genre with Army of the Dead (2021), a Las Vegas horror-heist film. Overlord (2018) is a fun, pulpy genre exercise in killing Nazi zombies during WWII. 2013’s Warm Bodies made zombies look sweet and romantic, thanks to Nicholas Hoult. There’s nothing new that hasn’t been unearthed from under the sun. It makes the subdued nature of Adam MacDonald’s directorial debut, This Is Not a Test, feel unique, carving out a high school coming-of-age film.
Based on Courtney Summers’ young adult novel, This Is Not a Test centers on a small group of high schoolers who are quickly becoming adults amid a zombie apocalypse. It’s a fun concept that provides ample opportunity to play with the genre conventions of John Hughes’ teen films, mixed with the survivalist edge of a horror backdrop. Sadly, the film struggles to wiggle out of the confined, suffocating box where a majority of characters don’t grow beyond their presumed archetypes. The storytelling is stock and stale in sustaining a dour monotone of somberness, coupled with some filmmaking choices that border on nauseating.
Sloane (Olivia Holt) is no better off in a world not occupied by zombies. She lives in an abusive home life with her dominating father, her mother is dead, and her beloved older sister, Lilly (Joelle Farrow), has left her behind so she can escape their father, despite their strong sisterly connection. The film opens with Sloane contemplating ending it all with a recurring suicide note that hangs over her conscience. Then one morning, her neighborhood is populated by zombies, her abusive father turns into one, and Oliva’s flight response kicks in — she’s on the run, before running into a group of her high school peers. Rhys (Froy Gutierrez), a shy, awkward fool who’s head over heels for Olivia; the self-appointed leader, Cary (Corteon Moore); the loudmouth jerk whose purpose is to antagonize everyone, Trace (Carson MacCormac); and his mousy, delicate sister, Grace (Chloe Avakian). They take refuge in one place they know can provide security: their school.
Once they fortify the school and reckon with their reality, how does this mixture of zombies and Breakfast Club shenanigans evolve? Pretty much nothing. They wait for help to come, amble through the hallways, looking sullen, and wait for the film to give them something substantial to do. In between those areas of dead space, they get into bitter arguments, like Trace complaining about Cary giving orders or debating the tired, conventional tropes of learning how zombie infections happen. There’s a strained subplot involving the paranoia of another member of the school, their unscrupulous teacher, Mr. Baxter (Luke McFarland), who gives off bad vibes and red flags that he’s not alright in the head.
The real drama centers on Sloane, who has to come to terms with the fact that perhaps she doesn’t want to end it all when the world has turned into a nightmare of chaos and danger, something she’s endured for too long. The crux of the film is focused on the innate human desire to survive, despite the mental anguish of depression and suicidal ideation. Yet, McDonald’s script is sparse on time for Sloane to develop a sense of community or kinship with her peers. She spends the majority of her time passive, barely conversing or being active, which would’ve made her arc compelling.
Rhys tries to connect as part of a half-baked romantic interest that never goes anywhere beyond an adorable smooch. Other than divulging the death of his parents, Rhys, or hardly anyone, can pierce through Sloane’s mental defenses. None of the characters have a chance to break out of their high school stereotypes, other than a brief game of Never Have I Ever. The film culminates in Sloane wanting to find her sister alive, for what she believes has been her one pillar of emotional strength. Rhys feels like the natural replacement, as their connection is slowly developing, yet their relationship often feels perfunctory and less resonant than Sloane’s relationship with Lily.
The looming sense of danger of living in a world occupied by zombies also feels like a non-issue. Once our characters escape the streets and find shelter in their school (a prison, as Sloane refers to it), the majority of the film is devoid of suspense or tension. The most tension comes from the interminable subplot involving Mr. Baxter, which devolves into endless yelling and accusations of who’s a zombie. The film’s lackluster attempt to imbue suspense and pivot the gang away from the zombie outbreak for more trite drama manifests in a character making an alarmingly stupid decision to raise the stakes.
In the scenes that involve immediate one-on-one zombie action, the filmmaking is visually incomprehensible. There are a lot of close-up shots of someone’s face or hand, as the camera constantly shakes and rattles the frame to induce chaos, but it comes across as badly-choreographed action. When a shot is either a medium or wide shot of zombies running or characters fleeing, it’s a godsend. Your eyes can finally take a break.
The performances can only do so much, yet it’s clear Holt is adding dimensions to Sloane with her withdrawn aura and dreary look of apathy. It’s the style of acting that suggests more bubbling beneath the calm, collected surface. Holt makes for an engaging lead, if only her character had the flexibility to grow beyond the emotional climax Sloane is saddled with. One standout to appreciate is Corteon Moore’s Cary. Confidence can go a long way, and Cary carries himself with enough presence and command of the situation that, while the character remains inert, his performance feels most grounded in the gravity of the moment.
This Is Not a Test aims to be the bridge between the conventions of 80s high school archetypes and the modern era of fast-running zombies viciously munching on people’s flesh. It’s a cute concept that offers a hint of subversive humor (one character remarks how their barricade is a testament to teenage ingenuity, followed by a cut to a bunch of chairs and desks).
It’s clear that McDonald and the cast want to make a down-to-earth coming-of-age film in which the zombies serve only as a backdrop for teens with no adults to guide them. Their preconceptions of the world are tossed aside to survive, where being a jock or nerd means nothing. It’s a unique lens that could’ve made these characters stretch beyond their formal functions, yet their interiority feels empty. Their insecurities and anxieties are now compounded by a world spiraling into carnage, yet the film is far less interesting than how that sounds.
High school is a miserable experience that is often linked to helping young teens prepare for the world; This Is Not a Test feels less like a fresh perspective and more like a recycling of tropes with enough sentimental musings of not allowing your trauma to trap you from surviving a zombie apocalypse. A zombie virus is no match for teen angst.
Review Courtesy of Amritpal Rai
Feature Image Credit to Independent Film Company/Shudder via IMDB