“A dark, challenging existential drama filtered through the lens of a ghost story.”

The past has a tendency to linger. It can follow us like a specter, emerging at the most unexpected of moments, and increasingly difficult to ignore. For some, it can be an ongoing burden that never quite heals, whereas for others there is comfort in knowing that these memories will remain intact, even if it is uncomfortable to constantly be reminded of a difficult past. We find this to be the case with My Sad Dead, an adaptation of Mis muertos tristes by Mariana Enriquez, a quartet of stories in which the subject of death is put in focus through an in-depth exploration of contemporary life in the suburbs of her native Argentina, which she presents in a radically different way. Directed by Pablo Larraín, who is doing something truly remarkable, the story was produced as a limited series but here has been presented as a singular narrative film, with the episodic structure being set aside through some small editing choices that make it a more cohesive piece. It is set between two working-class neighborhoods in contemporary Buenos Aires, one slightly more privileged than the other. It follows Ema, who has recently left her job as the director of a local hospital. The exact circumstances are initially unknown, but we soon come to understand why she found herself in a slightly precarious position when it is revealed that she has the ability to see and talk to the dead, communicating with them directly as they manifest themselves in front of her. They plead for her help in finding peace, which often requires taking care of unresolved matters on their behalf. Challenging and deeply compelling, My Sad Dead is an incredible achievement, the kind of memorable existential odyssey that captures our attention and holds it in its entirety, drawing us into a strange and unconventional version of reality that is both inescapable and undeniably beautiful, even at its most unhinged and disconcerting.

As it turns out, when Larraín isn’t making well-crafted but slightly trivial portraits of notable twentieth-century women being put through the emotional wringer, he has the capacity to actually challenge and provoke in a way that unsettles the audience and causes us to reconsider many complicated themes through a fascinating new lens. My Sad Dead establishes its core themes – or rather what we are led to believe they will be – from the very start, indicating that it is going to be a three-hour examination of grief and the unbearable weight carried by those who find themselves mourning losses and attempting to remedy wounds that they know will never heal. This is the obvious starting point for the story and the reason it feels so direct and honest at the outset, never having to expend too much energy pointing us in the appropriate thematic direction. However, as is often the case when examining death in its various forms, there is much more lingering beneath the surface, particularly when we realize that this is not solely about the complexities that come with handling death, but also the obstacles that occur throughout life. It has often been said that those who suffer the most are not the ones who die – even the most painful deaths are only momentary – but rather the people left behind, forced to carry the burden of having lost someone, whether through natural causes or more tragic, sudden circumstances. That is what the character of Ema, as well as everyone she encounters, has to endure, having to function in a society where tragedy becomes part of the cultural lexicon. The various ways in which characters in this story die (including illness, suicide and social violence) emphasize how it is impossible to find the right way to mourn, a challenge that is only made more difficult by the occasionally ferocious honesty with which this narrative is constructed.

There is something profoundly unconventional about what the director is choosing to do with My Sad Dead, which can be primarily attributed to the blurring of genres. With many literary adaptations there is a tendency to be overly didactic and focused on replicating the tone of the original works, but this is certainly not the case here. Not only does Larraín find himself working with a less conventional text (in the sense that he’s taking a set of disjointed short stories and weaving them into a cohesive narrative), but also handling it through a far more complex tonal approach. The results are much better than we would anticipate, with the final product being a dark, challenging existential drama filtered through the lens of a ghost story, steeped in social commentary and tied together by a strong sense of magical realism. This is perhaps the single most important component since it gives My Sad Dead both its narrative and emotional identity, which helps in working with the challenging themes that populate the story. The filmmaking itself is impressive, particularly in how the director, alongside cinematographer Sergio Armstrong, works to create an image of the world where it seems like all color is slowly being extinguished, while still looking vibrant. It supports the underlying optimism that is at the heart of the narrative, even if it isn’t immediately noticeable until the hauntingly beautiful final moments. Every detail in My Sad Dead seems remarkably well chosen, supporting the ongoing attempt to create a piece of storytelling that exists in a recognizable version of reality, without abandoning the more fantastical elements that give it such a distinct tone. Larraín has often demonstrated his interest in atmosphere as a narrative tool, and he challenges himself to craft a ghost story that doesn’t draw from horror, but rather a more abstract, philosophical genre that we rarely find being explored on screen in recent years, particularly since it is difficult to effectively communicate these more abstract concepts that nevertheless work towards making My Sad Death a truly captivating and daring work.  

My Sad Dead is often moving, occasionally nauseating, and even momentarily bitingly funny. However, more than anything else it is unforgettable, the kind of challenging and provocative work that makes us understand the importance of giving artists the freedom to express themselves, telling the stories and exploring the themes that mean something to them. As both an adaptation of the novel and a more abstract set of ideas woven together into an epic three-hour existential journey, My Sad Dead is a fascinating voyage into the minds of some complex characters, portrayed brilliantly by an exceptional cast. Mercedes Morán in particular delivers one of the most vulnerable and honest performances I’ve seen in years. While the word “brave” is often used as shorthand for any actor who marginally pushes themselves out of their comfort zone, her work here is truly the embodiment of fearlessness and should be lauded as such. She attempts to make sense of a strange and uncomfortable world, a place that is violent, deranged and often impossible to understand, yet there is always an opportunity for optimism, even if the situation can sometimes feel beyond bleak. Larraín is such a peculiar filmmaker whose artistic ambitions are much wider and harder to pinpoint than most of his peers, so it is difficult to state where this stands in his already idiosyncratic career – it may just be his finest work to date, not only because of the narrative scope, but also the artistic ambition behind it. A project of this size, particularly addressing such uncomfortable and brutal themes, is not an easy task, but he proves that there is always something to be said about pushing the boundaries of the craft. It’s tremendously compelling and often caustically funny – it is as much a bleak existential drama as it is a pitch-black satire with layers of dark comedy, which offset the disturbing moments with a touch of levity. But My Sad Dead is also deeply provocative, and becomes one of the year’s most intriguing artistic endeavors, handcrafted by a director whose dedication to pursuing something so challenging is admirable. It results in an experience that will be difficult to forget, for better or for worse, depending on how each individual embraces the more unconventional aspects of this wonderfully daring piece of existential storytelling.