'Outside' Review: An Incisive Philippine Family Drama Masquerading as a Zombie Film
Carlo Ledesma explores mental health, domestic abuse, and generational trauma through an unflinching, zombified lens.
Carlo Ledesma’s Outside offers an interesting take on the zombie apocalypse genre by turning its lens inward, trading blood-soaked thrills for emotional dissection and psychological tension. With an impressive cast led by Sid Lucero (in what for this critic’s opinion is among the actor’s best performances in recent memory), the film uses the zombie outbreak as a backdrop for a tense psychological drama about paranoia, mental health, generational trauma, and fatherhood.
By focusing not on the chaos of the zombie outbreak but on the emotional unraveling of a family on the brink, Ledesma crafts a story that places emotional conflict front and center, making a family dinner table just as perilous as any encounter with the undead. And although it may not hit every note perfectly, Outside dares to explore deeper emotional terrain—evoking the atmosphere of Jeff Nichols‘ Take Shelter and the familial stakes of John Krasinski‘s A Quiet Place.
A Family in Crisis Amidst a Zombie Apocalypse
At the heart of Outside is Francis Abel (Lucero), a man weighed down by trauma and unresolved issues from his childhood. As zombies overrun the cities, Francis flees to the countryside with his family: wife Iris (Beauty Gonzalez) and their two sons, Joshua (Marco Masa) and Lucas (Aiden Tyler Patdu), to seek refuge in his late father’s remote estate.
Almost immediately, Francis must kill his zombified mother (Bing Pimentel) after she attacks him, setting the tone for the emotional toll the family is about to endure. The mansion, which initially seems like a sanctuary, soon becomes a pressure cooker, exposing old wounds and deepening fissures in the family’s relationships.
As the world around them descends into chaos, the wounds and fissures of Francis’s past resurface with the arrival of his older brother, Diego (James Blanco), the so-called ‘golden boy’ of the family with whom Iris might have had a history. It doesn’t help that Iris finds herself at an impasse, navigating the emotional minefield of her failing marriage while trying to protect her children, not only from the evils outside but also from the dangers within the confines of their refuge.
A Focused [Zombified] Lens on Generational Trauma
Adding to the tension are the painful memories of Francis’s abusive upbringing that their predicament dredges up. Through flashbacks and tense conversations, we learn that Francis was subjected to brutal punishments as a child—locked in the basement by his father (Joel Torre) for hours on end. These traumas resurface as Francis finds himself back in the home he tried to escape, compounding his paranoia and fear of betrayal.
Amidst the mounting tension, Francis struggles to connect with his oldest son, Joshua (Marco Masa), with the boy increasingly becoming the scapegoat for Francis’s insecurities and frustrations. Without needing to spell out the underlying issues, the film subtly suggests that Joshua bears the brunt of his father’s emotional unraveling.
Here is where Ledesma’s direction excels, deftly framing Francis and Joshua’s relationship as a meditation on generational trauma. Will Francis, scarred by his own father’s cruelty, end up perpetuating the same cycle of abuse with Joshua? Lucero’s performance shines here, portraying Francis as a man torn between his desire to protect his family and his inability to escape the damage of his own past.
This fraught dynamic between Francis and his family becomes Outside’s emotional core. As zombies close in on them from the outside, it becomes clear that the real danger lies within: the simmering fears and unresolved hurts that threaten to tear the family apart from the inside.
Tension at the Dinner Table: Where Horror Truly Lies
Outside builds much of its tension around quiet moments, particularly scenes set around the dining table, where emotional confrontations unfold. As Ledesma aimed to capture, these domestic interactions carry the weight of the story’s true horror. It is here, over quiet meals and terse conversations, that Francis’s fears—of betrayal, abandonment, and inadequacy—begin to boil over, threatening to destroy the fragile threads that hold the family together. At this point, the zombies outside serve both as backdrop and catalyst, exacerbating conflicts that have been simmering beneath the surface for years.
It is in these moments that the film for me evokes the spirit of Take Shelter. Just as Nichols’s protagonist, Curtis, becomes obsessed with visions of an apocalyptic storm, Francis is consumed by an internal storm of distrust and resentment. Both men try desperately to protect their families but risk becoming their own families’ undoing in the process. In both films, the lines between protection and control blur, leaving the audience unsure whether the real threat lies in the external world or within the protagonist’s mind.
The film also brings to mind A Quiet Place in its exploration of survival and fatherhood. Much like Krasinski’s character in the film, Francis is driven by a desire to protect his family at all costs—but his need for control becomes suffocating.
The film, then, raises unsettling questions: When does protection become harmful? And how do unresolved traumas shape our relationships, especially during times of crisis?
Outside: A Divisive Film for Local Audiences
Notwithstanding the film’s strengths, Outside has received mixed reactions—especially from Filipino audiences who expected more zombie action and less family drama. And while I would vehemently disagree, I understand this perspective. By marketing the film as a homegrown zombie movie (a rarity in Philippine cinema), the studio (in this case, Netflix) gives a false impression that this would be a straightforward genre film. As a result, viewers might feel cheated out of the adrenaline-inducing experience typically associated with the genre.
Moreover, at 141 minutes, the film’s slow pace has also drawn criticism, and deservedly so. For all their good intentions, the filmmakers appeared to deliberate too much with their approach. Consequently, the narrative drags through repetitive arguments, leaving some audiences still searching for the zombie action that rarely, if ever, materializes.
For what it’s worth, the film’s reception highlights an interesting tension in Philippine cinema. There has long been a desire among local audiences for high-quality, homegrown genre films—especially in the zombie subgenre, which has thrived in neighboring countries like South Korea and Japan. Outside attempts to fill that gap, showing that Philippine filmmakers are capable of delivering thoughtful, well-crafted works while retaining the traditional sensibilities. So if the film’s emphasis on emotional drama over spectacle might not resonate with everyone, it’s a valid bone to pick.
Despite all these, I found myself gravitating toward the film’s message. For one, acknowledging that Ledesma isn’t trying to make a conventional zombie movie helps reframe the entire story. Suddenly, Outside stops becoming a zombie film, and instead plays out as a psychological horror rich in emotional complexity in tackling mental health, domestic abuse, and generational trauma.
This, for me, sets Outside apart, even if it doesn’t fully meet the expectations of a genre-hungry audience.