What would happen if your school was attacked by zombies? Netflix’s latest hit K-drama, All of Us Are Dead, attempts to give us a solid answer to this question, as Hyosan High School turns into a fast-sinking ship when a science experiment gone terribly wrong results in a virus-induced zombie outbreak.

For a few years now, South Korean entertainment has been pushing the narrative boundaries of the zombie genre. They have deftly used it as a vehicle to explore not just present-day political and social issues (#Alive, 2020), but have also inserted the undead in their period dramas (Kingdom, 2019).

However, what makes All of Us Are Dead stand out amidst this growing list of K-Zombie content are the central protagonists in the series. The motley crew of survivors are not your gun-slinging, machete-wielding, adept zombie-killing protagonists, these are teenagers who quite literally have to grab the object nearest to them and hastily fashion a weapon out of it.

This is also where the show finds its sparingly lighter moments. Friends dole out advice on dealing with high school crushes as bloody zombies snarl in the background (!) But beyond these interactions, the series takes a massive departure from the traditional route of keeping a zombie apocalypse setting somewhat comically chaotic. Instead, directors Lee JQ and Kim Nam-su choose not to shy away from tackling the emotional weight of death and mayhem.

The best example of this is seen when the show deals with the zombification or “turning” of humans. A shot usually reserved to fulfil the horror quota is turned on its head to play out poignantly heartbreaking scenes. In place of a hastened transformation, we get a drawn-out process, in which the horror stems from the now-undead zombie reconciling with the loss of their humanity, often right in front of their classmates.

The directors do not whiplash the audience back into zombie-infested reality; instead we sit with the students in numbing grief as they lose their friends, classmates and teachers, over and over again. The heavy storyline doesn’t feel misplaced, as writer Chun Sung-il richly fleshes out these teen characters to carry forward the complex tale.

Nam On-jo (Park Ji-hu) serves as a narrative protagonist who bands together with her childhood friend Lee Cheong-san (Yoon Chan-young), her crush Lee Su-hyeok (Park Solomon), and the aloof overachieving class President Choi Nam-ra (Cho Yi-hyun) among other classmates to fight zombies and school bullies alike.

Director Lee JQ’s choice to cast actors “unfamiliar to the audience” pays off masterfully.

The makers also ensure that the layered storytelling does not come at the cost of high-adrenaline action scenes, jump scares and well-executed VFX gore. Mirroring the title sequence, the directors slowly descend the audience into a zombie-filled reality, and the series conveys the same visually. What starts off as a brightly-lit, vividly colourful school, eventually transforms into a nauseatingly dull place with the colour saturation dialed back, as the virus spreads.

When required, the filmmakers also immerse us into the zombie experience. The cinematography during the zombie-human confrontation scenes moves fast, never quite fixating on a single character, which makes for quite unsettling viewing. It is havoc heightened for the students, as well as the audience watching, as we learn along with them, who survived and who didn’t.

Another unconventional directorial choice comes in the form of how the show is paced out. With 12 episodes, each almost an hour long, the story stretches out the events of each day over multiple episodes. The material to fill this time comes from the pockets of survivors it creates throughout the city.

Though the storyline follows a core group of students trapped in high school, we are also given glimpses of a politician scrambling to escape her office; a social media influencer trying to farm the crisis for viral content; and two police officers, mismatched in their levels of courage, racing to retrieve the antidote.

These different dynamics are crafted for the series to also address multiple systemic issues. With the origin of the zombie virus itself rooted in a history of bullying, the school becomes ground zero for the show to explore social class hierarchies.

Additionally, for the senior students of Hyosan High, the zombie apocalypse does not even figure as a priority stressor. With the university entrance exams looming over, Park Mi-jin, a student, laments, “It’s impossible for me to get into college even if I live,” while practicing her zombie killing techniques.

The dynamic between how the State handles this crisis and its effect on students also serves as a microcosm for how authorities react to apocalyptic situations. Unfortunately, this is also where the plot wavers a bit. The series often attempts to pack in too much, as it stretches two separate storylines involving teenage pregnancy and sexual assault across multiple episodes. Not enough time is spent on either narrative to create meaningful conclusions or provide these characters with a kinder, more humane ending.

Ultimately, in a genre teeming with Hollywood’s undying need to provide the perfect post-apocalyptic male-hero zombie killer tale, South Korea has bravely put forth a story of survival. Oscillating between the alive and the undead, the show makes an impact by centering the fact that endurance doesn’t always mean strength, sometimes it is born out of repeated acts of kindness.