Movie Review ~ My Dead Friend Zoe

Movies about ghosts typically veer toward broad comedy or supernatural horror, but My Dead Friend Zoe creates something entirely its own—an emotionally grounded dramedy using spectral companionship to examine grief, guilt, and unresolved trauma. Directed by Kyle Hausmann-Stokes and co-written with A.J. Bermudez, this film bypasses the usual imaginary friend tropes to deliver a story of profound loss wrapped in razor-sharp humor and terrific performances.

Sonequa Martin-Green is fantastic as Merit, an Afghanistan war veteran whose closest confidant is the ghost of her best friend, Zoe (Natalie Morales, Self Reliance). This isn’t some cute Ghost-like setup, though—Zoe may be Merit’s ride-or-die, but her presence represents Merit’s emotional purgatory. Merit isn’t just dealing with Zoe’s company—she’s struggling in ways she won’t admit. Trouble with the law has landed her in court-mandated group therapy sessions led by VA counselor Dr. Cole (Morgan Freeman, Vanquish), but she refuses to engage, evading any real confrontation with the emotions she’s been bottling up.

Meanwhile, her mother (Gloria Reuben, Admission) urges her to visit her estranged grandfather, Dale (Ed Harris, The Abyss), a Vietnam vet recently diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s. What begins as an obligatory trip to the family’s lake house turns into something deeper: Dale, the man who once inspired Merit to join the military, may now need her more than she (or he) realizes. As her mother pushes to put him in a retirement home and sell the house, Merit wrestles with how to make herself useful—perhaps for the first time since leaving the Army. Along the way, she also stumbles into an unexpected connection with an administrator at the retirement home (Utkarsh Ambudkar, Brittany Runs a Marathon), though even a budding romance isn’t enough to shake the ghost at her side.

The loving yet fraught chemistry between Martin-Green and Morales anchors the film, creating a deeply affectionate yet unsettlingly codependent relationship. Martin-Green brings raw, weary resilience to Merit without sinking into melodrama, while Morales matches her energy, toeing the line between devoted friend and a manifestation of guilt that refuses to fade away. 

Harris, always a commanding presence, plays Dale with a gruffness that masks something more fragile. His scenes with Martin-Green are some of the film’s most affecting, as two veterans from different generations find an unspoken understanding in their shared experiences. Historically, Harris can overwhelm his co-stars with his all-in acting style but he’s more laid-back this time around, trusting the material to do the heavy lifting for him.  Freeman, meanwhile, brings warmth and sincerity to Dr. Cole, who is more than just a cookie-cutter dispenser of wisdom. After recent years of paycheck roles, Freeman delivers a performance that feels grounded and human—his steady presence providing a safe space for Merit’s reluctant journey toward healing.

The film balances humor and sorrow with remarkable skill. Hausmann-Stokes, a five-year Iraq veteran himself, brings undeniable authenticity to the portrayal of veteran life. The film’s realism is underscored by the inclusion of real-life veterans in supporting roles, a detail worth sticking around for in the credits, where their names and service photos are honored. It’s a small but deeply meaningful touch that reinforces the film’s emotional core.

The lake house setting serves as a potent visual metaphor—isolated yet steeped in history, much like the characters within it. The cinematography resists stylized flourishes, instead leaning on natural lighting and understated framing that let the performances shine. This restraint extends to the film’s handling of the supernatural. It never veers into gimmickry; instead, Zoe’s presence feels as much a part of Merit’s internal make-up as the memories she refuses to process.

Despite its heavy themes, My Dead Friend Zoe never becomes an exercise in misery. The humor—often dry, sometimes biting—keeps it from being swallowed by grief. It’s a film about ghosts, but not the kind that haunt with rattling chains. These ghosts are the ones we carry with us and invite to stay because the alternative—moving forward—feels impossible.

At a time in film and television when military stories tend toward heroic glorification or bleak despair, My Dead Friend Zoe finds a rare, honest middle ground. It’s about the families we’re born into and those we create. It examines loss in all its forms. And most powerfully, it explores the complicated, painful, and surprisingly funny process of learning to live alongside our grief.  Like the ghosts we carry, it’s not easily forgotten.