Dead Lover review - a horror comedy that doesn't stink!

Grace Glowicki's Dead Lover (in cinemas this weekend and presented in Smell-O-Vision!) unfolds from quite the unbelievable premise; this raucous, Mel Brooks-inspired tale centres around a lovestruck yet smelly gravedigger who, rather than waste time grieving when her paramour unfortunately snuffs it, instead goes down the decidedly sketchy route of resurrecting them (which, among other things, involves a glowing green syringe that Herbert West would approve of). Needless to say, for the benefit of our entertainment, things don't go entirely as planned...

The film is a whirlwind of Monty Python-esque silliness, outrageous accents and grisly, camp, grand guignol. There are visual gags aplenty and they sit comfortably alongside cuts and shots that wouldn't be out of place in the early works of Sam Raimi or Peter Jackson. If Mel Brooks can be counted as an influence on Dead Lover then so must a plethora of horror films that genre fans will recognise elements of woven into throughout - one wolf, in particular, looks like it has detoured from a London tube station whilst another shot of Glowicki's grave digger, shrouded in mist and creeping up on a grave, is eerily reminiscent of something from vampire lore à la Salem's Lot. Green, purple and red lighting play magically across the cast and sparse sets against stark, black backdrops, giving proceedings the feel of a stage production inside a ghost train.

Playing like a bloody, adult-oriented episode of Horrible Histories, it revels in its grotesquerie. In one scene, the notion of "talking dirty" is taken to its extreme in such a poetic manner that we can only laugh at the juxtaposition of language and subject of conversation. Amid the lashings of blood there's a gooey, sticky raunchiness to it all that might make even the most ardent Troma fan blush.

It might not be coincidence that Dead Lover has released in the wake of Maggie Gyllenhaal's loud, brash and uncompromising pseudo-period piece, The Bride; the two make for comfortable bedfellows and would make an interesting double bill (and for more great double bills, don't forget to catch up with our podcast).

But Lowicki needn't fear her film will be overshadowed by more mainstream releases; Dead Lover comes to wonderfully weird life with a charm uniquely its own and will long burn brightly in the memory of all those who take the time to see it.

To paraphrase John Waters - someone who seems an obvious influence on this whole affair - get more out of life, see a fucked up movie (and make sure it's Dead Lover).