“My Dead Friend Zoe” is based on an idea that sounds like it wouldn’t work: It’s a buddy comedy about PTSD. Lean too far in one direction and the movie ends up being empty and flippant; veer too far in the other and it becomes dreary and heavy-handed.
But what director and co-writer Kyle Hausmann-Stokes has done in his feature filmmaking debut is find an impressive tonal balance, right there in the middle: hilarity within the poignancy, and vice versa. His high-concept premise could have gone disastrously wrong, but he’s based “My Dead Friend Zoe” on true events, and that personal investment in character and story provides a powerful emotional foundation.
He’s also created the opportunity for Sonequa Martin-Green to give a star-making performance as an Army veteran struggling with the loss of her best friend. Martin-Green will be familiar to fans of “The Walking Dead” and “Star Trek: Discovery,” but this should put her on the map for another entire audience of filmgoers.
She is totally in command, and what she’s doing here is so difficult. Her character, Merit, is emotionally closed off for much of the film, but allows glimmers of vulnerability to shine through until she eventually cracks in the film’s gut-punch of an ending. She’s confident and capable, and Martin-Green has a striking screen presence with her rich voice and athleticism.
But what’s keeping her from interacting with both the outside world and her internal trauma is the character who gives the film its title, Zoe, played by a charismatic and irreverent Natalie Morales. As the name indicates, Zoe is dead. This is not a spoiler. But Zoe continues to follow Merit wherever she goes, cracking her old friend up with snarky remarks and commenting on whatever’s happening. Only Merit can see her, though, as we discover in an early scene in therapy. After serving eight years in Afghanistan, Merit doesn’t want to be there, and she definitely doesn’t want to share, despite tough love prompting from the group leader and fellow veteran, played with typical gravitas by Morgan Freeman. Zoe has the guts to voice Merit’s growing annoyance with all these gooey feelings. But when Hausmann-Stokes cuts back to Merit, the chair next to her in the circle is empty. (Editor Ali Greer keeps things straight, particularly between the movie’s many flashbacks, and retains a brisk pacing.) Certainly, we’ve seen this device before, whether it’s Tyler Durden in “Fight Club” or Sam Wheat in “Ghost,” but adding the wrinkle of the horrors of war provides another layer of complexity.
The script from Hausmann-Stokes (a veteran himself) and A.J. Bermudez efficiently establishes what this friendship was like, filled with snappy banter, good-natured teasing, and warm laughs, and Martin-Green and Morales make that bond feel deep and true. Zoe is the kind of person who justifies making fun of old-timey names at the cemetery by saying: “I can joke about the dead, these are my people.” They have tremendous chemistry with each other, which is crucial to understanding why Zoe might be lingering and why Merit might have a hard time letting her go.
But Merit is forced out of her isolation when her mother (Gloria Reuben) asks her to check on her grandfather (Ed Harris), a decorated Army veteran himself who’s showing early signs of Alzheimer’s. Harris is an intimidating figure here but also brings great dignity to the role. There’s a real tenderness between him and Martin-Green, especially during a scene where they compare war experiences during an afternoon boat ride near his lake house. Utkarsh Ambudkar also draws Merit out as the owner of the local retirement community, and the two enjoy an understated, quick-witted give-and-take.
Using sly humor to explore a serious issue, “My Dead Friend Zoe” has the potential to reach a broad audience on the topic of veterans’ mental health—particularly at a time when the current presidential administration is decimating the care our service men and women deserve. This is a persuasive piece of advocacy filmmaking, tucked inside a playful and profane comedy about female friendship. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry.
In theaters now.
