My quick rating - 3.7/10. Some movies start with a bang. Bury Me When I’m Dead starts with cancer, a summer home in New Hampshire, and a dying request for a hippie forest burial. Not exactly fireworks. Catherine (Charlotte Hope) wants to go out in nature’s arms, probably under a pine tree, while deer sing Kumbaya. When she explains her scenario, you will wish my Kumbaya example were correct. Her husband, Henry (Devon Terrell), however, decides the best way to honor her dying wish is to completely ignore it, shovel her into the family plot instead, and then go back to cheating on her with Rebecca (Makenzie Leigh). Class act.
Naturally, Henry’s father-in-law, Gary (Richard Bekins)—a man so warm he makes icebergs seem snuggly—warns him not to play games with the burial. But since Henry’s decision-making skills hover somewhere between “drunk raccoon” and “openly guilty toddler,” he goes ahead anyway. The penalty? Gary cuts him off from the inheritance. It never mattered what decision Gary made. Catherine, meanwhile, seems to cut him off from sanity.
Now, if you’re expecting a corpse-crawling, bone-snapping horror show where Catherine claws her way out of the dirt and throttles Henry and his mistress—you’re out of luck. This is more like Paranormal Activity: The Paint is Drying. Strange creaks, bad dreams, shadows that probably just need a dusting. The movie wants us to feel Henry’s guilt, but since he spends most of the runtime staring like a deer that just discovered taxes, it’s hard to feel much besides impatience.
There is one standout moment: Buck (Mike Houston), an old friend who pops in for a couple of scenes to deliver a rambling, out-of-place conversation with Henry that feels like it wandered in from another movie entirely. It’s bizarre, but I’ll admit, it made me laugh. Which is more than I can say for the intended scares.
As a slow-burning character study of grief and betrayal, the film almost works. The acting is solid enough, but the pacing makes molasses look fast. And with so little actually happening onscreen, you start to wonder if maybe Catherine is haunting the editor’s scissors instead of her husband.
Still, the ending does manage to land with a darkly satisfying thud—one that finally feels like a payoff for sitting through the world’s slowest ghost story. And it saved this flick from scoring even lower. Just don’t go in expecting horror fireworks. You’ll get more chills from forgetting to pay your electric bill.
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