‘My Sad Dead’ Review: Larraín’s Ghostly satire on Urban Isolation

Pablo Larraín’s latest film, “My Sad Dead,” merges macabre melancholy with absurd humor to deliver a sprawling modern gothic narrative that operates on multiple levels simultaneously. While clearly a ghost story, the film also functions as a deadpan tragicomedy and a sharp satire of contemporary urban Argentina. Beyond its supernatural elements, it serves as a critique of hostile brutalist architecture, exploring how isolating structures affect the human spirit.

Mercedes Morán delivers a standout performance as Ema, a retired doctor burdened by the screams of ghosts only she can hear. Though she previously lived in a nicer part of Buenos Aires, she returns to the Piedrabuena neighborhood to care for her dying mother. The film opens with a surreal sequence where her mother passes away, only for the corpse’s eyes to open, introducing viewers to the film’s distinctive visual style. Larraín and cinematographer Sergio Armstrong utilize a low-contrast, pinkish-gray palette that lends a pallor to both the living and the dead.

The narrative shifts when Ema’s estranged sister Lidia and her husband visit from Seattle, bringing along their troubled teenage daughter, Julia, played by Carolina Álvarez. Ema discovers that Julia possesses the same ability to commune with spirits. Unlike Ema, who is weary and resigned, Julia engages with the dead in a visceral, bodily manner, highlighting the film’s fascination with flesh, decomposition, and mortality.

The setting of Piedrabuena, characterized by octagonal housing clusters around a central water tower, mirrors the community’s fractured social fabric. Residents gather in a vacant rec center, where discussions often devolve into racist rants and calls for vigilante justice. The film unflinchingly depicts the violent and tragic ends suffered by various inhabitants, from fatal accidents to gang-related shootings and untreated infections.

When the local water supply becomes contaminated, allowing the entire neighborhood to hear the ghosts’ suffering, Ema finds herself in demand. However, the story avoids becoming a standard supernatural procedural. Originally conceived as a Netflix miniseries before being restructured into an 186-minute feature for the San Sebastián Film Festival, the project shares atmospheric similarities with Krzysztof Kieślowski’s “Dekalog.” Co-written by Larraín, Anastasia Ayazi, Guillermo Calderón, and Mariana Enriquez, the screenplay weaves together numerous harsh and sorrowful side stories. Despite the grim subject matter, the film maintains a mordantly funny and oddly uplifting tone, suggesting that acknowledging sadness is ultimately an affirmation of life.

With a closing credit song by Shakira referencing the weight of rage, “My Sad Dead” stands as a testament to cinematic storytelling that transcends screen size, offering a richly textured exploration of death, community, and resilience.