If immortality is supposed to be glamorous, Jack didn’t get the memo. In He Never Died, Henry Rollins plays a centuries-old cannibal who looks like he’s been living off protein shakes and pure rage since the Bronze Age. Written and directed by Jason Krawczyk, this 2015 horror comedy is a deadpan, blood-soaked, oddly touching story about redemption, fatherhood, and the sheer exhaustion of being alive forever. It’s Interview with the Vampire if the vampire was a middle-aged man just trying to get through a bingo game without committing a felony.
1. The Setup: When Eternal Life Feels Like an Endless Hangover
Jack lives the kind of minimalist lifestyle Marie Kondo would approve of — if she could ignore the human femurs in his fridge. He doesn’t drink, doesn’t socialize, and keeps his urges in check by buying blood from a hospital intern named Jeremy (Booboo Stewart), a man who has “future corpse” written all over him. Jack’s daily routine consists of sleeping, attending mass (which is ironic, considering the whole “murderous cannibal” thing), and glaring at anyone who talks too loudly.
It’s a life of quiet misery — until his ex-girlfriend calls, demanding he find their estranged daughter, Andrea. Suddenly, this immortal misanthrope has to do something he hasn’t done in centuries: talk to people. And as it turns out, Jack is even worse at small talk than he is at controlling his bloodlust.
2. Henry Rollins: The Patron Saint of Deadpan Violence
Rollins doesn’t so much act in this movie as he exists — and that’s the brilliance of it. With his granite jawline, thousand-yard stare, and voice that sounds like it’s been marinated in whiskey and contempt, Rollins turns Jack into the most terrifyingly relatable immortal ever committed to film.
Jack doesn’t brood or romanticize his condition. He’s just tired — bone-deep, cosmic tired. Immortality, to him, isn’t a gift; it’s a bureaucratic error God forgot to correct. He’s the kind of guy who’d file an HR complaint against the Almighty.
When people try to rob him, he doesn’t yell or threaten; he sighs, like a man whose steak was undercooked again, and then rips their throats out with the calm efficiency of someone crossing off a to-do list.
3. The Humor: Darker Than His Coffee
He Never Died is technically a horror film, but it’s really a comedy disguised as existential despair. The humor is bone-dry — as if Krawczyk took a vampire movie, drained it of melodrama, and replaced it with the world’s most awkward dad jokes.
Jack’s conversations with other humans play out like alien anthropology experiments. When his waitress, Cara, tries to flirt with him, he responds with lines like, “You’re interesting. Don’t talk.” When his daughter Andrea asks about his past, he says, “I killed my brother. I didn’t like it.”
Every line lands like a punchline delivered by a man who doesn’t know what comedy is but accidentally invented it. Rollins’ delivery is so blunt it becomes poetry.
4. The Theology of Blood and Boredom
Of course, this isn’t just a story about a grumpy immortal — it’s about Cain, the world’s original sinner, cursed to wander the earth forever after killing his brother Abel. And somehow, that ancient Biblical tragedy manifests here as a guy who spends his evenings watching TV and eating cereal like a depressed demigod.
The film’s genius lies in refusing to mythologize him. Jack’s not a monster in a Gothic castle — he’s a cannibal living in a one-bedroom apartment. He doesn’t crave world domination or power. He craves routine. Bingo, blood bags, and blessed solitude.
His faith — if you can call it that — is one of weary resignation. He goes to church not for forgiveness, but for the quiet. He talks to priests, not for salvation, but because they’re the only people who won’t try to hug him.
5. The Family Drama: Immortal Dad, Mortal Problems
When Jack meets Andrea (Jordan Todosey), she’s bright, reckless, and everything he isn’t. Their father-daughter dynamic is the emotional heart of the movie — equal parts awkward, tender, and absurd.
He teaches her how to shoot. She teaches him how to care again. It’s touching in a way that sneaks up on you — mostly because Jack’s version of affection involves grunting and occasionally not eating people.
The movie toys with the idea that maybe redemption isn’t about forgiveness, but about showing up — even if you’re six thousand years late to the parent-teacher conference.
6. The Mobsters: Bad Guys, Worse Luck
The villains of He Never Died are a gang of small-time mobsters who make the bold mistake of kidnapping the daughter of the world’s first murderer. It’s like mugging John Wick and then taunting him about his dog.
Steven Ogg (of The Walking Dead and “That Guy Who Looks Like He Bites” fame) chews scenery as the crime boss Alex, and even he looks like he’s not sure what movie he’s in. These mobsters exist mostly to be eviscerated, eaten, or lectured about morality by a guy who’s literally damned.
When Jack finally snaps and goes on his killing spree, it’s not cathartic — it’s inevitable. The man has been repressing millennia of homicidal urges. Watching him dismember gangsters feels less like vengeance and more like emotional housekeeping.
7. The Old Man in the Hat: God? Devil? IRS Auditor?
Throughout the film, Jack is haunted by a mysterious man with a goatee and a porkpie hat — a sort of metaphysical hall monitor who shows up to remind Jack of his sins. He’s either God, the Devil, or someone from upper management in Heaven’s accounting department.
Their interactions are laced with cosmic bitterness. When Jack finally confronts him, it’s not some grand theological debate. It’s pure exasperation — an immortal yelling at his maker like a tenant furious about rent increases.
“Why won’t you let me die?” Jack demands.
The old man just stares, smugly silent, because eternity doesn’t come with an FAQ.
8. The Style: Grit, Grime, and Gallows Humor
Visually, He Never Died is as gray and unglamorous as Jack’s existence. Toronto doubles as a purgatorial nowhere-land — a city of flickering fluorescents, dingy apartments, and diners where the coffee tastes like punishment.
There’s blood, yes, but it’s not sensationalized. The violence is quick, efficient, and disgustingly mundane — like a butcher working overtime. The film’s real spectacle is Rollins’ face, which could be carved out of old granite and bad dreams.
The tone dances between noir, horror, and comedy, never settling on one. It’s the cinematic equivalent of an eye-roll that slowly turns into an existential crisis.
9. The Message: Eternal Life Is Just a Longer Grind
At its core, He Never Died is about what happens when you’ve lived too long and cared too little. Jack isn’t searching for meaning — he’s trying to survive the monotony of endless existence without eating his neighbors.
It’s a surprisingly poignant meditation on depression, addiction, and isolation. Jack’s immortality isn’t power — it’s punishment. Every new day is a rerun of the same mistakes, the same regrets, the same gnawing hunger.
And yet, through Andrea and Cara (the waitress with the world’s worst crush), he finds a flicker of connection. Maybe the point isn’t to die, but to remember how to live — preferably without consuming human flesh.
10. Final Thoughts: Deadpan Immortality Done Right
He Never Died is what happens when a horror movie takes a long, uncomfortable look at its own absurdity and decides to lean in. It’s violent but not cruel, funny but not flippant, and profound in a way that sneaks up between bites of arterial spray.
Henry Rollins anchors it with the weight of a man who has seen every mistake humanity has ever made — and still can’t be bothered to recycle. His Jack is both terrifying and sympathetic: a monster who just wants peace and maybe a refill on his coffee.
In a genre filled with immortal vampires, seductive demons, and melodramatic curses, He Never Died dares to suggest that the real horror of eternal life isn’t damnation — it’s boredom.
Rating: 9/10 — A hilariously bleak, bloodstained gem. Come for the cannibalism, stay for the bingo.
