Lazareth Review: An Isolated Thriller’s Wasted Potential

A remote cabin stands as a lone sanctuary, sheltering three women from the ravaged world outside. So begins Lazareth, the new post-apocalyptic thriller from writer-director Alec Tibaldi. When a deadly global pandemic overwhelms society, Lee fights relentlessly to keep her two young nieces safe within the protective walls of their secluded forest home. There, in a place they’ve renamed Lazareth, the small family of three strives to survive apart from the chaos unleashing beyond the woods.

Ashley Judd anchors the film as the formidable Lee, taking on a maternal guardian role with fierce devotion. Alongside her are Sarah Pidgeon and Katie Douglas, playing the teenage sisters Maeve and Imogen, now on the brink of adulthood after a decade under Lee’s watchful protection. The isolation of their makeshift haven becomes interrupted, however, with the arrival of a stranger—a mysterious injured man named Owen, portrayed by Shazam! star Asher Angel—who stumbles into their midst.

With Lazareth, Tibaldi spins a uniquely female-driven narrative within the familiar realm of pandemics and societal downfalls. The intimate setting of a remote haven gradually gives way to darker currents, as the fragile sanctum sheltering this family unit faces threats from within as well as the still-volatile world laid to waste beyond the forest perimeter. Intrigue is seeded from the outset as to how these secluded survivors will fare when forces intrude upon the solitary realm they’ve clung to for a decade.

Survival in a Sanctuary

One can only imagine the fear following a global pandemic that leaves the world in ruins. Such is the desperate situation confronting Lee when the virus claims her sister and brother-in-law, leaving her as guardian to orphaned nieces Maeve and Imogen.

In the early days, a desperate scramble for survival ensues as systems crumble and contagion spreads rampant. Seeking refuge, Lee chances upon an isolated forest cabin and renames it Lazareth, establishing this haven as a stronghold against the terrors beyond its protective borders. Over a decade hence, the three have endured, finding purpose and community within their solitary sanctuary.

Maeve, at 16, has assumed duties as caregiver and provisioner alongside her devoted Aunt Lee. Yet she retains a youthful curiosity about the outside, haunted by fragments of the “before” recounted by her elder. Imogen, a mere baby when the pandemic struck, knows nothing beyond the woods ringing Lazareth,content to frolic amongst the trees. Both dote on Lee, who has raised them with fierce maternal love, prioritizing their protection above all else. Venturing alone into the abandoned towns, Lee bears witness to horrors better left unseen, returning only when provisions are restocked. The girls accept her cautions without question; companionship amongst themselves suffices.

Until one day, Maeve’s explorations in the forest serendipitously cross paths with a stranger—the first outsider encountered in a decade. Nursing grave injuries lays Owen, his muscular form inked with haunting markings of some past life. Compassion overrules prudence as Maeve risks revealing Lazareth, spiriting the mysterious youth home for care. His wake heralds change, stirring desires long dormant in Maeve and curious Imogen. But can Owen earn trust among these isolated souls? And what shadows follow where he has wandered? As tensions mount under the cabin roof, their sanctuary faces threats both within…and poised beyond the perimeter.

Facing a Broken World

This story explores some heavyweight themes as Lee, Maeve, and Imogen try to find footing in a world turned upside-down. Central is their drive to simply survive—a challenge that has shaped their every waking moment for a decade. Lee’s laser focus on protection keeps them going each day, even if it limits other possibilities.

Their community of three represents the sole point of normalcy, yet Maeve yearns for more. As the first outsider arrives, it shakes loose questions about what could lie beyond their solitary sanctuary. Is connecting with others a risk, or could it enhance survival? Owen too seeks shelter from unknown dangers, bringing an opportunity but also unforeseen dangers.

More profoundly, Lazareth peeks behind the curtain at what becomes of civilization when the walls come tumbling down. Lee has witnessed humanity at its darkest among the ruins—a trauma that understandably breeds mistrust of outsiders. At the same time, helping a stranger shows flickers of compassion that survive even in broken places. There are also those who devolve into a lawlessness we pray never to see.

Ultimately, this is a story of challenges beyond anyone’s predicting, of grasping for light even as darkness looms vast. In Lee’s fervent protection and Maeve’s curiosities, we see how individual perspectives develop in isolation versus community. And in their debate over Owen, whether to embrace a connection or shield what they’ve built, realities of this new world come into focus. Most powerfully, it reminds us that even in our loneliest hours, we must find a way to go on caring for one another.

Capturing Isolation Through Directing

Alec Tibaldi’s directorial work in Lazareth is one of its strongest elements. He handles the intimate character drama with thoughtful care, never passing judgment as tensions rise within their secluded world. Through his lens, we peer closely at Lee, Maeve, and Imogen, coming to understand each on a deeper level.

Tibaldi also has a keen eye for landscape. The vast forests surrounding Lazareth are no mere backdrop but central to understanding the smallness these women feel. His shots emphasizing the cabin’s isolation within such vast expanses of nature deepen the immersive atmosphere. Even in tragedies that unfold, Tibaldi’s camera remains composed, inviting us to view each moment with a similar remove.

One subtle trick stands out: when a story detail shifts our entire perspective, Tibaldi accompanies this through crafty cinema. As truths are revealed, the aspect ratio broadens without our realizing it at first. It’s a neat parallel for how perspectives can change in an instant and highlights Tibaldi’s ability to enhance a storyline through directorial elements alone.

Through intimate characterization and clever visual storytelling, Tibaldi gently guides us into this haunting world. His direction feels both understated and deeply aware, bringing an empathetic touch to difficult themes around community, survival, and humanity’s fragile grasp on civilization. In Lazareth, directing serves not to dictate how we feel but to deepen how we see.

Under the Watchful Eye

Lazareth stands as a testament to the strength of its performances. At the helm is Ashley Judd, turning in a career-best portrayal as the steadfast yet conflicted Lee. She imbues the character with a complexity that goes deeper than her duties suggest. At every glance is a history of hardship, caring yet weary from lonely responsibility. Judd makes utterly believable this woman who’d do anything to keep her family whole.

Stepping into the shoes of Maeve and Imogen are Sarah Pidgeon and Katie Douglas. Developing their characters’ journey from curious girls to curious women, the pair evolve credibly before our eyes. Their bond with Judd feels authentic, hard-won, yet honest. Equally impressive is Asher Angel’s turn as mysterious new addition Owen. With nuanced emotional beats, he convinces as someone juggling duties to himself and others in an uncertain new world.

What strikes in these performances is an innate chemistry despite characters’ isolation. No easy feat when almost sole contact is each other; the cast generates a lived-in, authentic ensemble dynamic. Subtle glances and gestures speak volumes, quiet moments lingering with understanding. They make utterly believable this family’s desperate bid to find connection where little remains.

Under Tibaldi’s watchful directorial eye, Judd, Pidgeon, Douglas, and Angel bring an empathetic soulfulness to their roles. Progressing a character-driven narrative with understated grace, their performances resonate with complexity echoed in a few other post-apocalyptic tales. In Lazareth’s shadowy world, such nuanced work brings light to the indefatigable human spirit in even our darkest of days.

Frustrating Potential

Lazareth hints at compelling concepts, yet struggles in key areas of execution. Chief among its missed opportunities lies an intriguing premise squandered through predictable story beats. From the outset, the notions of three women isolated after pandemic and societal collapse call to mind imaginative insights. Sadly, cardboard characters never grip, unraveling tension as the plot plows familiar ground.

A secret at Lazareth’s core begs deeper exploration yet remains woefully underdeveloped. While the late reveal shifts perspective ingeniously, it emerges too late to comment meaningfully on prior events. Characters behave robotically, lacking motivations one can sink into. More pressingly, the matter never influences key relationships or themes in a way rendering past scenes in a new light. Instead, a sudden confrontation substitutes for addressing such fertile soil.

Perhaps most dismaying is how reliance on rote thrills betrays Lazareth’s potential to say something profound. A thoughtful look at humanity’s fragile norms crumbling under catastrophe could arise. Instead, contrivances move pieces toward a foreseeable, indulgently violent showdown. While execution delivers some competent set pieces, climax culminates in fleeting catharsis rather than edifying reflection on life’s enduring questions.

With an offbeat scenario and talented leads, Lazareth tease-wise insights. Yet stilted characters and predictability reduce it to missed opportunities. By forsaking intricacy for spectacle, distinctive vision loses its voice. For all the imaginative seeds sown, its fruit landed half-formed—nourishing action yet leaving analysis wanting. In frustrations like these does Lazareth’s unfulfilled potential resonate longest.

An Isolated Thriller’s Limited Shelf Life

This review touched on several aspects of Lazareth that define its place in the post-apocalyptic genre. From an intriguing premise of three women surviving alone, it hints at compelling themes. Unfortunately, characters that feel robotic and predictability in story beats reduce much of its potential for lasting impact.

Through the performances of its leads, like Ashley Judd, the film conjures a moody atmosphere of a world decimated by virus. And its remote woodland setting effectively conveys these survivors’ isolation. But where it could offer nuanced insight, it instead reaches for uninspired spectacle in the climax. A late secret reveals perspective in an ingenious twist, yet emerges too late to meaningfully reexamine what came before.

Ultimately, Lazareth presents the familiar survival tropes without distinguishing execution. Like its characters, it keeps viewers at arm’s length, never inviting real engagement with its ideas or people. The result feels like a missed opportunity—intriguing seeds that never grew into a distinctive vision. For fans of the genre, it brings nothing new to the table.

Casual viewers after a simple pandemic thriller may find it passably entertaining. But for those seeking resonating drama or thought-provoking perspective on humanity, Lazareth offers little more than a fleeting watch and quick forget. Its isolated characters seem fitting, as the film struggles to leave any real mark or connect beyond the moment. For better or worse, its narrative appears content dwelling in the secluded fringes of speculative fiction.