Critica sin filtro

The series should’ve been called: “How to Destroy Your Survival Group in Three Easy Steps.”

Step one: let your phone alarm go off in the middle of a zombie invasion.
Step two: don’t turn it off or throw it away,
because sentimentality weighs more than instinct.
Step three: run straight toward your friends to share the disaster.

That’s what separates smart tension from self-parody:
here, characters don’t die because of danger,
they die because of the stupidity programmed by the screenwriter.
And the audience, instead of suffering, ends up yelling at the screen:
“Just let her die already, please!”

Then comes the contractual drama:
the virus spreads only when the plot finds it convenient.
When a character is irrelevant, they turn in ten seconds.
But if they’re important, the camera gifts them three minutes
of close-ups, tears, and sad music.

And the flashbacks… oh, the flashbacks.
In a zombie series, how important is it to know the origin?
None.
When the world is falling apart, what defines the story
isn’t why it happened — it’s who survives.

Knowing why zombies exist rarely improves a story.
In fact, it often kills it.
If it’s a virus, it turns into sci-fi.
If it’s an experiment, it becomes a cliché.
If it’s divine punishment, it’s a sermon.
And if it’s “no one knows,” that actually works —
because what matters isn’t the origin,
but how the living react.

Zomvivor brings nothing new
to the already over-saturated zombie catalog.
The story is as shallow as a puddle.
And if you’ve seen too many undead films,
you’ll be bored to death —
because you’ve already seen every one of these scenes before.