I'll Bury You Tomorrow (2002)

Romance with another person would be so much simpler if that other person would simply vacate the body and allow an infatuated admirer to have at it. Such, perhaps, is the appeal of the cute, cuddly corpses who recline seductively upon the mortuary slabs of Beech’s Funeral Home in I’ll Bury You Tomorrow (2002), the subtitle of which should be But First Let Me Love You Up Today. There is a tendency to jump to the conclusion that I’ll Bury You Tomorrow glorifies the perverse activities of some sick bastard who thrills at sticking it to a bunch of inanimate chicks, but be informed: The death-fixated fetishist of Tomorrow is in fact a rather fetching female, a gender disposition that transfers the film from creep territory into the realm of romance.