I Think We’re Alone Now is a 2018 sci-fi drama set in an apocalypse that proves a blessing in disguise for one lucky recluse, until a second survivor arrives with the threat of companionship.
The end of the world to many might seem like a welcome respite, and there’s no questioning the fascination in wondering what it would be like to be one of the last remaining on the planet. Many current films in the genre are tending to steer clear of the more widely sensational elements of post-apocalyptic stories, avoiding the gruesome violence and roving gangs of menace in favor of themes of isolation and evolution. So it mostly is with Reed Morano‘s I Think We’re Alone Now, a quiet, troubling journey of loneliness that offers up plenty of questions even if it’s not quite able to keep it all very satisfying.
Unexplained, something has swept across the landscape, leaving entire populations dead in their tracks, sitting in lounge chairs and slumped at the dinner table. In the aftermath, in a rural countryside town of upstate New York, Del (Peter Dinklage) plunders the neighborhoods, burying bodies and collecting supplies. He appears to be alone, trying to build some sense of logic to the horrifying loss. Then in comes Grace (Elle Fanning), a girl he finds behind the wheel of a crashed car, and while it would seem company is exactly what he needs, he wants nothing to do with her and urges her to move one. She’s decides to stay though and hopes to join him in his mission to clean up the town, and while a bond is tentatively formed, secrets emerge and soon everything he’s worked for is put off balance.
As with most movies like this, the whys behind what happened are inconsequential, making the story more about characters moving forward than looking back. So it is here, the two contemplating their place in the near extinction but divided on what to do about it. Del is a man of few words, content with the outcomes of his fate, feeling just as alone in a town full of dead people as he did when they were alive. He’s created a systematic effort in disposing of the corpses and recording his progress, exploring his former neighbors’ homes with a new eye for detail. Grace is a different story, younger and a little scared, in need of companionship, the pair unlikely friends that are soon tethered by their pasts.
This isn’t a global story, nor does it feel the need to be, themes of chaos and continuation central to a build up that leads these two survivors to discover much about the people left behind and the significance of why they remain. It’s a disturbing tale of gentle but direct conversations, playing it deadly serious and with an unnerving weight. All the while, we come to learn about what haunts Del and what chases Grace. It might not have any greater momentum but it’s undeniably compelling with some genuinely intriguing imagery and a disguieting presence.
However, depending on your tastes and expectation, the third acts begins to evolve toward something altogether different, and while it spins things all out of orbit, it’s not without its merits. It might seem out of whack with it’s more grounded start, pulling the rug out of from us, however I can’t help but appreciate the effort, even if it lacks the real slap in the face it feels like it’s reaching for. Undeniably quirky and desperately dark, this might appeal to those craving something eerily unreachable, but for most will come up short.