Netflix’s All My Friends Are Dead is a Polish horror-comedy about young idiots who do stupid things that spiral out of control over the course of one fateful New Year’s Eve. It’s stylish, but style alone doesn’t make a movie worth watching. A rookie detective waits outside a crime scene. He ebulliently snaps on his rubber gloves and shows his badge to the grizzled vet who’s going to show him around. A woman muttering crazy things is carted out on a stretcher, and she’s the lucky one. The place is just littered with bodies – blood: everywhere. The elder detective has seen it all before. He spots a dead woman with a nice necklace and he removes it. His wife will like it, he says. Flashback: the day before. All those dead bodies we saw are alive now, which is what can happen in movies that forego linear storytelling. We meet some of the attendees: A cute couple; he’s smitten, but she’s upset with him. Another cute couple; he’s fixated on being a wannabe rapper, and she therefore feels underappreciated, but she keeps spouting annoying astrological woo-woo. A third couple, he’s jealous because she doesn’t want to commit and a few more. All My Friends Are Dead is somewhat garish and pointless. The film features annoying characters whose actions sometimes generally approximate that of recognisable human behaviour.