Every few years, a zombie movie staggers out of the grave and reminds us that horror can still have a pulse — even if it’s faint and fueled by tequila shots. Night of the Living Deb (2015), directed by Kyle Rankin, is that kind of film: a gloriously goofy romantic comedy that mashes up Shaun of the Dead, Bridget Jones’s Diary, and your worst one-night stand.
It’s not perfect. In fact, it’s barely stable. But that’s part of its undead charm. Like its red-headed heroine, Deb is awkward, scrappy, and much smarter than it looks — a film that proves the apocalypse can still be cute.
The Plot: When Cupid Meets Cannibalism
The setup is simple and brilliant: Deb Clarington (Maria Thayer) is a quirky, talkative, slightly-too-eager news camerawoman who wakes up hungover in the bed of Ryan Waverly (Michael Cassidy), a local golden boy who’s as wholesome as he is emotionally unavailable.
Their night together is a mystery (to her, and probably to him), but the real shock comes when Deb stumbles outside to find Portland, Maine — yes, Maine, not London or Los Angeles, which immediately makes this apocalypse feel more polite — overrun by zombies.
Ryan, caught between guilt, confusion, and denial, wants to check on his wealthy family, while Deb just wants a second date. Together they embark on the most awkward road trip since Before Sunrise, only with more biting and fewer vowels.
The Heroine: Adorkable Apocalypse Queen
Maria Thayer’s Deb is the kind of character who could singlehandedly ruin a dinner party and still somehow get invited back. She’s unfiltered, neurotic, and painfully self-aware — basically, if New Girl’s Jess had to survive The Walking Dead.
What makes Deb great is that she’s not your typical zombie-movie heroine. She doesn’t have military training, she doesn’t own a shotgun, and she’s definitely not wearing leather pants. Instead, she approaches the end of the world with the same energy you bring to an awkward Zoom call: smiling through the panic and hoping for Wi-Fi.
Deb’s weapon of choice isn’t a machete — it’s relentless optimism. When she’s not cracking jokes about the undead, she’s crushing on Ryan like it’s her job. The apocalypse may have started, but Deb’s still trying to fix her love life. You have to admire that level of multitasking.
The Romance: Love at First Bite
Ryan, played by Michael Cassidy, is Deb’s polar opposite: clean-cut, uptight, and allergic to fun. The chemistry between them works because it shouldn’t. She’s chaos; he’s khaki. She flirts with corpses; he wants to save them. Together, they’re the rom-com equivalent of peanut butter and cyanide — somehow deliciously entertaining despite the odds.
Their bickering has real charm. Deb tries to seduce him mid-zombie attack (“Hey, the world’s ending — might as well!”), while Ryan tries to process the moral implications of running over the undead with her car. The result is equal parts absurd and oddly heartwarming.
Most zombie films end in tragedy. Deb ends with a kiss — and possibly fighter jets bombing the city, but you take what you can get.
The Tone: Shaun of the Dead Meets Hallmark After Dark
The film knows exactly what it is and doesn’t pretend otherwise. This isn’t a grim apocalypse filled with existential despair. This is a world where love and death coexist — usually in the same scene.
Director Kyle Rankin balances gore and goofiness with surprising finesse. Yes, there are flesh-eating corpses and buckets of blood, but there’s also slapstick comedy, romantic banter, and a surprisingly wholesome message about self-worth.
The tone walks a tightrope between camp and sincerity. It’s never cynical. Even when it’s poking fun at zombie clichés, it does so with affection, like a drunk fan lovingly roasting their favorite band.
It’s the kind of movie that makes you grin one minute and gag the next — a rare combination that only truly great bad ideas can achieve.
Supporting Cast: The Living, the Dead, and the Delightfully Deranged
The supporting cast is a small but mighty group of weirdos, and they all seem to be in on the joke.
Ray Wise (because no cult movie is complete without Ray Wise) steals every scene as Frank Waverly, Ryan’s morally flexible father who accidentally unleashed the zombie plague through his water treatment plant. He’s the kind of corporate sociopath who’d sell bottled apocalypse water if it turned a profit.
Chris Marquette, as Ryan’s jealous brother Chaz, adds an extra layer of dysfunction to the family dynamic. His emotional arc — from smug rich kid to undead chump — is both satisfying and strangely poetic.
And then there’s Ruby, Deb’s best friend turned zombie, whom Deb refuses to kill because “she might still be in there somewhere.” This leads to the film’s best running gag: Ruby stuffed into a car trunk like a flesh-eating yoga mat.
The Humor: Braindead but Brilliant
Night of the Living Deb doesn’t just flirt with absurdity — it takes it to dinner and proposes. The jokes are fast, the tone irreverent, and the writing self-aware without being smug.
Deb’s one-liners land more often than not, skewering everything from toxic relationships to doomsday politics. (“You’re worried about your ex? The whole town’s on Atkins now!”)
The film also finds humor in small details — like the overzealous paramilitary checkpoint where everyone’s armed but still following bureaucratic protocol, or the TV anchor calmly announcing the apocalypse while her co-anchor slowly turns beside her.
It’s that rare zombie comedy where the humor doesn’t just rely on gore — it’s baked into the DNA of the world.
The Zombies: Less Terrifying, More Terrifically Tacky
The zombies themselves aren’t particularly scary — which is fine, because they’re not supposed to be. They’re slow, pale, and just gross enough to remind you that makeup artists deserve hazard pay.
The low budget shows, but it works in the movie’s favor. These aren’t sleek, CGI corpses — they’re homegrown ghouls with personality. Some even have better comedic timing than a few of the living characters.
You get the feeling that if you shouted, “Cut!” they’d all wander off to grab coffee.
The Heart: Be Yourself (Even When Everyone Else Is Dead)
Underneath all the chaos, Night of the Living Deb has something most zombie comedies don’t: heart. It’s a story about awkward people learning to accept themselves, even when the world is literally falling apart.
Deb’s journey isn’t just about surviving — it’s about realizing she doesn’t need to apologize for being weird, loud, or herself. In a genre where women often exist as eye candy or final girls, Deb is refreshingly human: messy, hilarious, and absolutely done with everyone’s nonsense.
By the end, when she declares her love live on TV during a zombie siege, it’s not just romantic — it’s cathartic. She’s broadcasting her truth to the apocalypse, which is the kind of energy we should all bring to Monday mornings.
Final Verdict: A Feel-Good Apocalypse
Night of the Living Deb isn’t high art, but it’s high fun. It’s proof that you don’t need a massive budget or revolutionary special effects to make a memorable zombie movie — just wit, charm, and a fearless lead willing to say, “I love you” while covered in blood.
It’s a rom-zom-com with more brains than it lets on and more heart than most big-budget blockbusters. Sure, it’s a little rough around the edges, but so is love.
Rating: 4 out of 5 awkward confessions.
Because sometimes, the end of the world just needs a redhead, a hangover, and a good laugh.
