Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

If you happen to be a literary purist who believes Jane Austen’s prose is a sacred, untouchable text, you might want to clutch your pearls tightly. For everyone else, there’s something undeniably cathartic about watching Elizabeth Bennet pause her witty repartee about social standing to deliver a spinning back-kick to a rotting corpse. I vividly remember watching this for the first time while nursing a lukewarm mug of peppermint tea and a slightly stale digestive biscuit; there’s a specific kind of joy in seeing the refined drawing rooms of 19th-century England splattered with undead viscera.

Released in 2016, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies arrived at a strange crossroads. We were arguably at "Peak Zombie," with The Walking Dead still dominating Sunday nights and every second indie film featuring a slow-shuffling metaphor for social decay. It’s also a film that represents that mid-2010s obsession with the "mash-up" novel—a trend that burned bright and died fast. But while many of its contemporaries have been buried in the digital bargain bin, this one has clawed its way back into favor as a genuine cult favorite.

A Period Piece with a Pulse (Barely)

What makes this adaptation work—and I use the word "adaptation" with a wink—is how stubbornly it commits to the bit. Director Burr Steers (who previously gave us Igby Goes Down) doesn't treat this as a spoof. He treats it as a legitimate Regency drama that just happens to take place during a "zombie plague" caused by the French. The costumes are lush, the cinematography is moody, and the stakes are played with a straight face that would make Jane Austen herself nod in approval.

Lily James is a revelation here. Before she was dominating prestige TV, she was giving us an Elizabeth Bennet who is as sharp with a katana as she is with a quip. She captures that "fine eyes" spark that Mr. Darcy finds so intoxicating, but adds a layer of "I will end your life if you touch my sisters" that feels entirely earned. Opposite her, Sam Riley portrays Fitzwilliam Darcy as a raspy-voiced, leather-clad colonel who spends more time sniffing out hidden zombies than attending balls. I’ll be honest: Sam Riley sounds like he’s been gargling gravel in a Batcave, but his brooding intensity fits this specific, grimy version of the character perfectly.

The film shines brightest when it integrates the martial arts into the social etiquette. The scene where Elizabeth and her sisters (Bella Heathcote, Suki Waterhouse, etc.) clean their weapons and hide daggers in their garters while discussing the arrival of Mr. Bingley (Douglas Booth) is a highlight. It turns the domestic sphere into a literal war room, and frankly, I think it makes the Bennet sisters much more interesting than their traditional counterparts.

Parson Collins Steals the Show

If you’re looking for the reason this film transitioned from a box office disappointment to a cult darling, look no further than Matt Smith. Playing the insufferable Parson Collins, Matt Smith is a comedic hurricane in a powdered wig. Every choice he makes—from his awkward physical comedy to his obsession with a plate of muffins—is gold. He provides the necessary levity that prevents the film from becoming too bogged down in its own "chosen one" mythology.

The supporting cast is equally stacked with British heavyweights. Having Charles Dance and Lena Headey in the same movie feels like a Game of Thrones reunion we didn't know we needed. Lena Headey as Lady Catherine de Bourgh—now a legendary zombie slayer with an eye patch—is the kind of campy brilliance that justifies the entire premise.

Apparently, this project spent years in development hell. At one point, Natalie Portman was set to star, and while she stayed on as a producer, I can’t help but wonder if the film would have been more "serious" under her lead. Burr Steers' version feels lighter, faster, and more willing to lean into the absurdity. The production even sent the cast to a "zombie boot camp" to learn how to fight in corsets, which is the kind of behind-the-scenes commitment I truly respect.

The Survival of the Fittest

Why did it flop originally? Probably because it’s a movie for nobody and everybody at the same time. It’s too violent for the "tea and crumpets" Austen crowd and perhaps too talky for the hardcore horror hounds. But viewed today, detached from the 2016 franchise-building pressure, it’s a delightful oddity. It’s the ultimate cinematic equivalent of a 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign written in human blood.

The CGI on the zombies hasn't aged perfectly—some of the digital blood looks a bit thin—but the practical makeup effects are solid. The "Intermediate" stage of the zombies, where they can still talk and try to blend into society before their brains fully rot, adds a layer of creeping dread that most zombie films ignore. It turns the fear of the undead into a fear of social embarrassment, which is the most Austen-esque thing possible.

Whether you're here for the decapitations or the Darcy, there is a craft here that transcends the silly title. It’s a film that knows exactly what it is, and it invites you to have a drink, sharpen your blade, and enjoy the end of the world in style.

If you can get past the "Batman" voice of the leading man and the inherent silliness of the premise, you’ll find a surprisingly sharp action-romance. It’s a beautifully shot, well-acted, and genuinely funny reimagining that proves even the classics can benefit from a few more headshots. Put it on during a rainy Sunday; it’s much more invigorating than a standard period drama.