With her sophomore feature “Dead Lover,” director and co-writer Grace Glowicki deploys a minimalist approach to a familiar, high-concept premise. The film follows a lonely gravedigger (also Glowicki) who uses experimental science to bring her foppish lover back to life after he’s killed at sea. On paper, “Dead Lover” partly evokes Universal’s beloved 1931 “Frankenstein” adaptation, but because Glowicki shot the film entirely on a Toronto soundstage, it more closely resembles an experimental theater production than a bog-standard low-budget horror film.
The in-studio backdrop all but demands bountiful creativity from Glowicki’s small cast and crew, which “Dead Lover” exhibits in spades. Cinematographer Rhayne Vermette frequently spotlights actors so they’re bathed in darkness, which renders the film’s varied environments, from a graveyard to the open waters, suggestive playgrounds, with only set pieces to fill in a handful of blanks. This staginess not only lends a lively quality to the production, but also focuses the audience’s attention on both the narrative and its construction. “Dead Lover” understand that deliberate artificiality, when utilized properly, can be as immersive as the most expensive illusion.
Likewise, Glowicki and her team employ various practical elements — props, costumes, makeup, prosthetics, in-camera visual effects — to contribute to the (un)reality of “Dead Lover.” The film’s sparse, handmade 16-mm aesthetic, which visually recalls influences ranging from early German Expressionism to the work of Guy Maddin, primarily sells the film’s outlandish fantastical conceit, despite its derivative nature.
Alas, the inspired production primarily serves performances and narrative that reside in a mileage-may-vary comedic register. “Dead Lover” treats the gravedigger’s search for love, stymied by her grimy clothes and a lingering corpse stench, with some gravity, but her relatable desires are in deliberate tension with Glowicki’s exaggerated performance. She plays the gravedigger like a horny version of the screeching housewife caricature that the Monty Python troupe would play in “Flying Circus” sketches. Her over-the-top cockney accent speaking in melodramatic dialogue drives much of the comedy in her performance, which ultimately wears thin over the course of the film’s brief runtime.
The four-person cast, with everyone but Glowicki playing multiple roles, delivers similarly histrionic performances as gossips, sailors, priests, and unholy scientific creations. (Only the gravedigger’s posh dandy lover, played by co-writer Ben Petrie, and Lowen Morrow’s turn as an opium-addled widower, demonstrate minor vocal restraint.) Everyone, especially Glowicki, evinces a certain fearless physicality, the kind that naturally emanates from drama departments and theater troupes around the world. The whole cast probably deserves some recognition for “committing to the bit,” so to speak. The problem, of course, is that the bit itself is stuck in one gear. Even as the complicated plot evolves, the characters and the performances remain frustratingly static. Only Glowicki occasionally modulates her acting, especially in the film’s second half. When she does, her obvious talent shines through.
The film’s self-consciously campy tone don’t help matters much. In its worst moments, “Dead Lover” feels like it’s trying to reverse engineer a cult film. What that translates to, though, is a lot of intentionally hammy line deliveries and overaffected actions. When it’s not running through silly facial expressions or “kooky” sex scenes, it leans into gross-out, exploitation-style effects or “Benny Hill”-style high-speed movements. “Dead Lover” fares best when the writing embraces wordplay, or at least a humorous turn of phrase. (“Fetid stench” and “teste renewal” are good for a chuckle.) The epistolary section of the film, in which the smooth-talking lover sends letters to the gravedigger about his trip to an experimental fertility clinic, is a nice change of pace for a film that constantly skews wacky, for better or worse.
Ironically, whenever “Dead Lover” displays its romantic side, it reveals a tenderness that feels more potent than its comedic instincts. It’s clear that Glowicki and company don’t see the gravedigger’s amorous yearning as a joke, even if the character consistently acts like one. It’s mildly heartwarming when the lover woos the gravedigger and accepts her overwhelmingly nasty odor as a feature of her beauty, even if it’s under false pretenses. (After all, empty promises can still be meaningful in the moment.) It’s comparably tragic when the lover’s caddish intentions come to light. Glowicki often returns to the affecting image of a spooky moonlit night, where disquiet and ardor can potentially go hand in hand, to convey the the depths of the gravedigger’s loneliness. At the very least, “Dead Lover” comprehends the feeling of getting a brief taste of something you’ve desired for a long time and how its absence can drive someone to madness.
Though the sheer imagination baked into the production of “Dead Lover” is certainly admirable, its prolonged, forced zaniness unfortunately taints everything it touches. With that said, there are definitely people who will take to this kind of film like a duck to water. It’s important for them to see it, cherish it, and spread the word to like-minded weirdos everywhere.
Grade: C+
“Dead Lover” premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival. It is currently seeking U.S. distribution with Yellow Veil Pictures handling its sale.
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