Die Alone could have been a typical zombie film sent in an apocalyptic near-future, and I don't doubt that, in that form, it could have been entertaining and thrilling in the hands of writer and director Lowell Dean. Where Die Alone steps outside of the subgenre to create a compelling work is by ruminating on love and loss through the undead.
Filmed in Regina, SK, Die Alone follows a young man, Ethan (Douglas Smith), who wakes up in a doomed world where it's everyone for themselves. Wearing a cast on his left forearm with the name Emma written inside a heart, Ethan has amnesia, having no memories before this moment of how the world came to be in its current state. He eventually crosses paths with Mae (Carrie-Anne Moss), a road-weary survivor who appears initially hesitant of Ethan.
To further unravel the film would be to spoil it — although, truthfully, the plot twist isn't all that surprising. But where many filmmakers rest on the shock value of the twist to make their film, Dean uses it to layer the themes weaved throughout. Zombie films, more often than not, demonstrate humanity in a weird and interesting way, and Dean follows suit with precision and clarity.
Smith and Moss make for a compelling two-handed partnership. Smith plays the freneticism of Ethan just unhinged enough to give audiences a tangible foothold into this world and how disorienting it would feel to be dropped into it without warning. Moss, for all her experience and gravitas, lends the film a distinct refinement that polishes the rough edges Canadian cinema can fall victim to. By movie's end, their dynamic and chemistry is all the more impressive, and, in particular, Moss's performance becomes that much more nuanced.
Dean writes a thematically ambitious script and sufficiently delivers upon it, hitting all the emotional beats with a filmic flair. Buoyed with strong performances from not just Smith and Moss, but the rest of the ensemble as well, Die Alone goes from serviceable CanCon into a meditative film with heart and soul.