Aside from, say, my literal face, you’d have better luck finding a working Ninja Baseball Batman arcade cabinet than something uglier than 2020 and, unfortunately, the beginning moments of this new year. If you took a hint from my smidge of self-deprecating humor there, you’d also take no surprise in knowing I’m a masochist, apparently. I say that because this year — of all the years, holy crap — I chose to watch Anna and the Apocalypse for the first time, and a second time rather recently. Some would say this isn’t the greatest decision one could make during these trying times, and those people would theoretically be right.
Although, as it turns out, Anna and the Apocalypse is a lot more complicated — and a refreshing change-up for its genre — of a movie than its title, and synopsis, might suggest. For one thing, it’s a zombie/musical hybrid; picture it like Zombieland crossed with The Prom. But while that sounds tantalizing enough on its own, it’s actually a bit misleading. While it claims to be something more jovial and irreverent on the surface — which it certainly is, to a degree — the film is shockingly morbid and devastating in all the most profound ways.
The story is fairly simple: Anna (Ella Hunt) is on the verge of finishing her last semester before going off to study at university before a zombie plague breaks out and sends the town, and the rest of the country, into chaos. Anna and her crew of friends find themselves stuck in the middle of full-blown zombie anarchy, featuring musical numbers, run-ins with douchey guys you’re not exactly on good terms with, and plenty of the ole’ zombie smashing. Hey, Anna even ends up using a candy cane prop as her weapon of choice in the slaying! Fun! Sure, it’s a dire situation, but who amongst us hasn’t ever romanticized the idea of warding off zombies with our friends?
But then there’s, well, everything else. In Anna and the Apocalypse, one minute you’re watching a genuine banger of a zombie-killing-musical-montage, and before you know it Anna’s best friend is being mauled to death just before he can express the feelings he has for her. It’s shocking, exceedingly sad, and somewhat abrupt — but not necessarily in a bad way. Nearly the entire movie is filled with moments like these. Encased within its shell of jovial musical aesthetic and disregard for the rules is a tale that feels vulnerable; it feels a lot like an allegory for what it’s been like these last several months trying our best to keep pushing forward even as the world burns around us.
We — us internet folk, especially — often make jokes about the atrocities that life launches our way as some sort of safety mechanism. In a literal pandemic, and a literal storming of the US Capitol building, one only needs to log onto that blue bird app and you’ll be greeted by any number of funny posts that’ll distract you from the potential atrophy your mental state is undergoing. The pessimistic among us might say only the most privileged and unaffected of people could produce, or appreciate, humor during times like these, but that’s probably a bit unfair. Humor is comforting, and necessary, man. In real life, we have the internet and memes, and in Anna and the Apocalypse, there’s musical cheer. They’re distractions, but sometimes that’s all there is.
There’s one scene, in particular, that might resonate with this the most. Early on in the film, Anna and her friends camp out inside of a bowling alley just after the outbreak has truly started kicking off. As the night goes on, the group watches through the window as the army begins to move in, bombing the town to oblivion in an effort to keep things under control, all accompanied by a musical number. It’s a surreal, almost resplendent, sequence of characters standing by as the world is literally on fire. Yet the beauty of it, is that’s all the characters can do — that ever-familiar feeling of helplessness that sometimes, just as the crew does, you’re forced to simply go to bed and attempt to keep chugging along through.
By the end of Anna and the Apocalypse, nearly all of the gang is dead — including Anna’s own father, who she had been searching for the entire movie — and we’re left with the unlikely trio of Anna, her douchey one-night-stand pal Nick (Ben Wiggins), and Steph (Sarah Swire), who’s barely close with either of them, driving off, completely beaten-down, mortified, and unaware of what this horrible timeline has in store for them next. Getting to the end of 2020 was a lot like that. You’re (hopefully) not giving up, but it’s hardly an upbeat affair. The pain is still there, in spite of all cheerfulness you try to muster, and it sends a message about what it’s like living with tragedy and how, sometimes, all you can do is keep moving. Will it get better? Hopefully, yes, but that’s hardly even the point.
I consider myself a misunderstood ghoul; often times people are surprised and perplexed by what movies I find to be the most depressing. Sure, I’ve cried after watching any number of sad moments, from the ending of A Star is Born to Avengers: Endgame, but that’s different than the depressingly sad reality that the totality of this zombie/musical hybrid created. A movie that seems to be connecting to something deeper — something more real, almost in an exceptionally ordinary way — is what’s toughest for me. It sticks with you, because of how unceremonious it all feels.
Deciding to watch Anna and the Apocalypse this year, of all times, made for an incredibly depressing experience. It broke me; it chewed up my naïve and presumptuous self and spit me out onto the street to be run over; it enveloped whatever little serotonin I had with a dark fog of dread. In a way, it was as surprising, and relentless, of a movie experience as any I’ve had this year. It channels that feeling of existential angst we all have when witnessing the atrocities of the world more than its happy-go-lucky exterior would have you believe. But, at the same time, it also made the experience all the more powerful, and, unfortunately, relevant.
source https://bloody-disgusting.com/editorials/3655107/just-keep-moving-existential-angst-anna-apocalypse/
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