Take Saving Private Ryan and add in some mutant-zombie Nazis, and you have this enjoyably gonzo horror movie.
Operation Neptune is in full effect as Allied troops storm the beaches of Normandy. Overhead, the U.S. is flying air support. One misfit team, led by a grizzled commander (Wyatt Russell), is tasked with destroying a radio transmitter located at a fortified church behind enemy lines. When its plane is shot down, the bruised and battered squad scrambles to the church only to discover that, beneath its foundations, the Reich has been busily amassing an unholy army of undead mutants.
On paper, Overlord sounds like a run-of-the-mill midnight movie. In reality, it has much more going for it, most significantly the talented young cast. Admittedly, the characters are thinly written WWII clichés: the brooding man-of-few-words commander, the wisecracking sniper, the heart-of-gold newbie. But these simple archetypes are forgivable, especially in the case of the gloriously over-the-top, jackbooted antagonist, played by Game of Thrones’ Pilou Asbæk. Meanwhile, Mathilde Ollivier impresses as a tough-as-nails villager who, in another kind of film, would be a worthy addition to the French Resistance.
The story is also much more artful than the premise suggests, playing with the concept of monstrosity and asking what separates good from bad in times of war. How far is each side willing to go? Who are the real monsters here? Be prepared for blood, guts and gore. The violence, both in the high-octane opening scenes and the more monstrous body horror, is squirm-inducing at points, bolstered by Jed Kurzel’s thundering score. Don’t be fooled by its B-movie trappings: Amid all the carnage, Overlord has more to say than you might think.
Cast and crew