A cop investigates a crime scene on the cusp of a zombie outbreak. Arguing with herself, she tries to cover up a mistake not knowing that something worse is about to happen.
After a night out with the boys a husband needs a good night sleep before his next shift begins. Too bad his mother-in-law thinks that giant rats have taken her cat.
An expectant mother makes a video diary for her unborn daughter, as she and her partner wait out the apocalypse in her family’s remote, rural home.
A father tries to communicate with his dead son, through the zombie that took their young life.
Portraits of the Apocalypse is an anthology made up of four tales, written, directed and independently produced by Argentine filmmakers Nicanor Loreti (Mar.ia, Punto rojo), editor Luca Castello and Fabian Forte (Legions, Juego de brujas). The tales which track the beginning and the evolution of a zombie apocalypse are an exploration of our humanity and how we respond to such a crisis, as the zombie film genre has been wont to do. So, by extension, it is an exploration of how we respond to crises that are not necessarily zombie related as well. In the face of danger, what do we do? Why, we make it worse of course.
The first two chapter focus on the outbreak itself. In Loreti’s Murder at the Scene of the Crime a cop panics because they have screwed up an investigation of a crime scene and a black comedy of errors ensues. In Forte’s Rats, a husband is irate about being woken up, never mind he was bitten by one of his friends earlier that night. Priorities, mate. Again, there is a subtle and dark humor at play here, between his aggravation and the mother-in-law’s panic over her missing cat.
The third short, Rubi, switches gears and turns a bit more serious as we take a contemplative look at the apocalyptical aftermath and humanity’s survival. The woman’s partner is more concerned about their survival than the arrival of his child. Choices will be made in a chapter that all three directors had a hand in. The video diary style is a break in the visual narrative and offers the most pause for reflection moment in the collection of stories.
Castello’s solo effort, the closer The King of the Damned, sees the long time editor go for broke. In their final chapter they dare to propose an radical revelation of the event, suggesting that the source of the outbreak was not viral. The story of a father ignoring the dangers of holding a zombie captive while attempting to make contact with his dead son is a novel one. It harkens back to the roots of the genre, that of the end times and big words like eschatology, that there is something spiritual at play here. Of the four shorts the possibility of expanding the ideas in this chapter into something bigger and less holy gets the old gears in our brains turning.
Visually, with the exception of Rubi which tells its story in self-recorded video segments on an old model cam-corder, there is a uniformity to them. Despite each director’s visual and storytelling style, they have put together a cohesive collection here where each chapter compliments the other.
The project overall is not overtly gory, effective in its limited execution. It reflects the intent of the project, to study human response to escalated circumstances. The filmmakers are not here for sick gags and copious gore. It is horrific when the situation calls for it, Loreti and Castello’s chapters acting as sufficiently graphic bookends to the overall movie.
Interesting ideas and novel approaches to observing human responses in a time of crisis make for a bit more somber energy than expected. Portraits of the Apocalypse is something more akin to Max Brooks’ 2003 novel World War Z, not the jacked up energy drink film version that came ten years after that.
Romero would have liked this. Snyder would be impatient with it. Wherever you’ve planted your zombie flag in these camps should decide for you if you catch up with it. Regardless of what your personal requirements for film energy may be we’re glad we checked it out.