The Civil Dead

What is a ghost if not an unwanted houseguest? Mournful, silly hipster comedy The Civil Dead lumbers Clay (director Tatum) with the inconvenience of an old friend, Whit (Thomas), who needs a place to crash. By which he means "haunt." Which isn't great for either of them, because Clay thought Whit would only be sticking around until his wife (Weir) gets back into town, and Whit's stuck with being dead, which is far less fun than it sounds.

Filmed through that kind of hazy dustiness that can plague LA, The Civil Dead drifts with its own lyricism between metaphysical comedy and angst-drenched chills, equal parts the cringe comedy of What About Bob? and Harrison Atkins' mumblecore spook fest Lace Crater. But, at its dead but lively heart, it's an awkward buddy comedy, with real-life friends, collaborators, and co-writers Thomas and Tatum bouncing off each other with a laid-back, laconic yet vulnerable vibe. Take out the fact that Whit can't eat, sleep or, as he ruefully notes, fart or jerk off any more, and the story is really just about the discomfort of running into people to whom your only connection is that you used to be connected.

There are tonal changes, but they're never radical switches. Over everything, and binding those moments of dark slapstick and ominous occultism together there's a quiet miasma of despair and isolation, and a gentle analysis of men who both crave connection and find it deeply off-putting - not least because both is off-putting in their own specific ways. Tatum's whole aesthetic is like a Silver Lake Onur Tukel, without his acerbic self-castigation but with an lemon-juice acid edge that balances Clay's obvious plight with the fact that he's a grifting wastrel who has convinced himself and everyone else that he's some kind of art photographer. Meanwhile, Thomas' incarnation of Whit is tragic at so many levels that him being dead is arguably the least of his worries - his overweening neediness seemingly trumping all other concerns. Their overlapping disconnections could easily breed either tragedy or simple comedy, but instead there's a surprising, easy charm to their charmlessness that makes The Civil Dead a warmer experience than the title suggests.