Let’s be honest: most zombie movies are just background noise for pizza night. But every so often, one stumbles across a gem—something that blends creepiness, ridiculousness, and a sense of “who greenlit this?” into a surprisingly enjoyable cocktail. Enter Wicked Little Things, a 2006 horror film where the zombies aren’t your standard shuffling corpses—they’re undead child laborers from a mine explosion. Yes, you read that right: this movie weaponizes dead kids with pickaxes. And it’s… kind of wonderful.
The Plot: Dickens Meets Romero
Back in 1913, a coal mine owner thought, “Hey, let’s shove children into dynamite-filled shafts, what could go wrong?” Surprise! Everything goes wrong. Boom. Dead kids. Fast forward 80 years and those kids are still clocking in, only now they’re punching the timecard of vengeance, hunting down anyone unlucky enough to inherit real estate in the wrong ZIP code.
The unlucky recipients are the Tunny family: Karen (Lori Heuring), freshly widowed, and her daughters Sarah (Scout Taylor-Compton) and Emma (a pint-sized Chloë Grace Moretz, already perfecting her brand of “creepy kid who probably knows more than you”). They move into dad’s childhood home, which of course is conveniently located right next to the mine shaft of eternal doom.
From here, the story plays like a twisted bedtime story: the kids in the woods giggle, the locals mutter warnings about “staying inside after dark,” and Emma makes friends with a ghost girl named Mary who, spoiler, is the doll-toting leader of the pickaxe zombie daycare.
Zombie Miners: OSHA’s Worst Nightmare
The real star of this movie isn’t the grieving widow or her moody teenage daughter. It’s the child zombies. These little coal-dusted freaks don’t shuffle or moan—they giggle. They scamper. They wave their pickaxes like Halloween props from Spirit store clearance racks. And when they swarm, it’s less George A. Romero and more Children of the Corn had a lovechild with a union strike.
The movie even plays fair with the lore: the kids spare descendants of miners (solidarity, comrade!) but absolutely hate anyone with Carlton blood—the rich jerks responsible for the explosion. Their first victim? A pig, left out by a local as bait. The image of undead children swarming and devouring a pig is simultaneously horrifying and hilarious, like Babe 3: Pork Chop Apocalypse.
The Characters: Adults as Zombie Fodder
Karen Tunny is our final girl in denial, the type of mom who thinks a doll dripping with blood is just “a little dirty from the woods.” Sarah, the teenage daughter, does her best impression of “grumpy teen in a horror movie” by sneaking out to hang with local kids, only to watch her new friends get pickaxed like firewood.
And Emma—sweet, creepy little Emma—is the audience’s favorite. She treats her undead friend Mary like just another kid from the block, which is a refreshing contrast to most horror movies where kids just scream at shadows. Emma casually negotiates with murderous ghouls like she’s trading lunchbox snacks.
Then there’s Hanks (Geoffrey Lewis), the local doomsayer who knows way too much about the child zombies but still sticks around, tying pigs to posts as late-night zombie Happy Meals. When he warns the Tunnys to stay inside after dark, he might as well have said, “By the way, the neighborhood kids are undead union members—welcome to the HOA.”
The Villain: Rich Guy With Punchable Face
Every horror movie needs a villain besides the monsters, and here it’s William Carlton, last heir to the evil mining dynasty. He spends most of the film acting smug, waving around legal documents about land ownership while child zombies sharpen their pickaxes in the shadows. Spoiler: the kids get him. It’s glorious. He hides in a barn loft like a man whose death is already penciled in, and the zombie miners swarm him with the glee of coworkers finally getting revenge on the boss who docked their lunch breaks.
Why It Works: Atmosphere Over Gore
What makes Wicked Little Things charming is that it’s not just about gore (though there’s some tasty red sauce splatter). The atmosphere is pure Appalachian gothic: foggy woods, collapsing barns, ghost children giggling just out of sight. It’s campfire storytelling with actual stakes.
And it takes itself seriously enough to work while still being ridiculous enough to enjoy. For instance, the revelation that child zombies recognize family bloodlines and give you a free pass if you’re one of them? That’s both absurd and brilliant. “Sorry, Aunt Karen, I’d kill you, but my ghost HR policy says you’re on the safe list.”
Dark Humor Highlights
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The plumber who’s like, “Yeah, I’ll fix your pipes, but I’m leaving before dark.” He doesn’t. He dies. Never doubt the local lore, especially when it involves pig sacrifices.
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The child zombies devouring a pig like it’s an all-you-can-eat Golden Corral. Someone in production definitely said, “This scene will be horrifying,” but it landed closer to “comedy with extra bacon.”
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Emma’s blasé attitude about befriending ghost miners. If your kid says, “Don’t worry, Mary promised not to hurt me,” the correct response is not, “Oh good.” It’s move.
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William Carlton thinking bullets will stop zombie miners. Buddy, they survived dynamite. They’re not worried about your Glock.
The Ending: Happy Housewarming (Sort Of)
By the end, the Tunnys survive, William Carlton gets ripped to shreds, and the zombies let the family live because of the miner bloodline connection. The house technically becomes zombie territory, but hey—it’s free real estate.
Emma even seems content with her new “friendship” with Mary and her undead crew. It’s one of those horror endings where you think, “Yeah, this is messed up… but also kind of wholesome?”
Final Verdict: Graveyard Fun With Extra Pickaxes
Wicked Little Things isn’t a masterpiece, but it is wickedly fun. It takes a premise that sounds like a rejected Are You Afraid of the Dark? script—“child zombies from a mine accident”—and runs with it, straight into the foggy woods with a pig carcass.
The pacing lags occasionally, the dialogue is cliché, but who cares? This is a film where zombie kids unionize against capitalism and take out their revenge one Carlton at a time. It’s like Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol but replaced the Ghost of Christmas Past with a bloodthirsty 10-year-old carrying a pickaxe.
Final Score: 3.5 out of 5 pickaxes. Not scary enough to keep you up at night, but creepy enough to make you think twice before investing in Pennsylvania property with a mine attached.
