In the Flesh box set review: a thrillingly original take on the whole zombie horror template 

Partially deceased … Emily Bevan as Amy, Luke Newberry as Kieren and Emmet J Scanlan as Simon. Photograph: BBC/Des Willie

hese are desperate times for fans of emotional, intelligent zombie drama. Last week came the news that when BBC3 switches over to the web later this year, In the Flesh will not return for a third series. The move has left the Bafta-winning show’s fanbase – who fall somewhere between “obsessed” and “rabid” – furious at the loss of such a thrillingly original take on the whole zombie horror template.

Kieren Walker is a 17-year-old who killed himself three years ago, distraught at the death of his best friend Rick, a soldier in Afghanistan. He then returned to the fictional northern village of Roarton as part of something called “the rising”, a violent reawakening of the dead. He instantly did what comes naturally to zombies: track down the living and attempt to make them less so. After being caught and treated for PDS – partially deceased syndrome – he is allowed to re-enter society and return home to his family, whose biggest worry used to be which university their son would go to.

Kieren now hangs nervously between life and death as he attempts to build bridges with alienated loved ones and a local community whose pitchforks are twitching to impale this Peter Pan lookalike they see as “a rotter”. Things are no better at home, where sister Jem has become a member of the HVF, the gun-toting Human Volunteer Force, whose job it is to wipe out zombies like her brother.

Luke Newberry gives a delicate, measured performance as Kieren, a teenager who feels more confused and alone than most. Forced to wear makeup and special contact lenses to disguise the physical manifestations of zombiehood, his position in Roarton is anything but relaxed. Something of a softie, this avid painter suffers extreme guilt over what he did in the rising and really doesn’t feel ready to be back home. “But that’s why they say I am ready,” he says. “Because I’m feeling.” By contrast, his new best friend Amy is an out-and-proud member of the living dead, untroubled by her violent past and dismissive of the living, believing they spend their entire lives waiting to die. At one point, in a touching scene about teenage friendship, Amy (Emily Bevan) – daubed in neon and high on, er, sheep brains at a rave for the undead – offers the sober Kieren some of this fleshy narcotic. He politely declines.

Later, we see Kieren embarking on a relationship with cult leader turned terrorist Simon Monroe (Emmet J Scanlan) , and there are hints that his relationship with his deceased best friend went beyond playing Xbox together. In fact, In the Flesh uses Kieren’s heart as something of a plaything, requiring him to deal with the return of Rick, as well as hostility at practically every front door. Simon brings about a change in Kieren: he embraces his life with PDS and opens up to his family about the night of the rising and his earlier suicidal feelings. “That feeling, it’s like what being born must be like,” Kieren says of being reborn. “Except you’ve got context. Because honestly, dead, everything up until then was fear. Everything. Even when I was alive. Just different levels of fear.”

Writer Dominic Mitchell deserves huge credit for exploring sexuality, suicide and teenage angst with insight and heart, through the decidedly unlikely idiom of the living dead (although parents of teenagers may not find it quite so unlikely). Mitchell came up with the idea for the show after watching classic zombie films and feeling distraught that the lumbering marauders being killed in increasingly gory ways all had people who loved them.

The second series sees Roarton’s position as a haven for reformed flesh-eaters coming under pressure from Victus, a political party led by scaremongering MP Maxine Martin. Her message to the electorate is stark: “Behind that mask of makeup and medication is a cold-hearted killer who is just one misdose away from tearing your head apart.” The attempts at analogy aren’t exactly subtle, though she does stop short of blaming the undead for congestion on the roads. BBC3’s newly shorn budget means it can only afford to make one original drama a year. Will those holding the pursestrings be able to come up with anything as memorable as this?