Die, The Beloved Country: THE DEAD

Zombie films are a dime a dozen these days.  Any hack with a camera and some cheap stage make up seems to fancy him or her self  the modern day George A. Romero , and as such, the once terrifying, disease carrying, shambling metaphor for death has become as terrifying as a Smurf.

And then along comes The Ford Brothers', The Dead.

Set in West Africa, The Dead is a throw back to the kind of zombie film, Romero was making back in his heyday. Bleak, stark, serious and layered with political and social undertones, The Dead is a far cry from the mindless, CGI enhanced zombie movies being served up lately.  Told in a slow, deliberate manner, shot in 35 mm; The Dead has a sort of sweeping epic feel to it - frankly it's the sort of thing movie goers (especially horror film fans), don't get a lot of these days.

What starts like a  Lawrence of Arabia meets Night of the Living Dead hybrid ( a lone figure in desert garb traversing the Saharan landscape whilst dodging or shooting a few really, really, really, slow zombies) eventually  reveals itself to be the story of two men looking for hope in a hopeless world.  One of the men, Brian (Rob Freeman) is trying to  find a plane so he can leave zombie-riddled Africa and get back home to his wife and daughter in the United States) - the other man, Daniel (Prince David Oseia) is trying to find his way to a refugee camp to locate his missing son.  Both men are military, and while one is mourning the living death of his beloved country, and the other trying to find his way out, both men bond and form a kinship that is both touching and heartfelt.  Despite the hardships and the misunderstandings, they come to depend on the other and a realistic relationship is formed...again, not the kind of thing one gets in modern film very often.

If this film has a heart, it beats in the chest of  Prince David Oseia who brings such realism to the goings on.  His character is a decent man who may have been called on to do unspeakable things in the past as his nation was bled dry from civil wars, famine and disease.  However, now, when a new enemy has materialized he understands that all men and women must work together to defeat the common foe or else what's the point of living( gosh, that's a lesson for these times).   Honestly, I have never heard of this actor before, but he pretty much owns The Dead, and I am expecting big things from him in the future.

But wait a second, you kids came here for the zombies, didn't you?  Well, fear not, because they are everywhere.  As ubiquitous as flies, the pale-eyed-living-dead shamble through the forests, jungles and deserts of The Mother Land.  These flesh eaters are slow, deliberate and stealthy. No running, no screaming, just the ever constant threat of them at every turn.  Truly, some of the most eerie scenes of The Dead occur as our heroes drive through the African wilderness at night, the headlights of their car picking up views of the ever present, ever shambling zombies that litter the landscape (these scenes bring to mind Val Lewton's I walked with a Zombie) .

Another aspect of The Dead that is spectacular, is the photography.   The African landscapes are at times breathtaking, while at other times they appear stark and barren - much like the continent itself.   I for one, found myself gasping at some of the scenery it was that impressive - make of that what you will.

 

In the end, The Dead will probably alienate most modern audiences who have come to expect hackneyed plots, running zombies, jump cuts and gags - and that's a pity, because this is the kind of film that does not come along very often.    I can't help but wonder what Romero thinks of this one (or if he's even seen it), but I suspect that he would approve of the film, and more importantly of its message; lying deep in the soul of this dark, disturbing, (and at times) gory movie is a message about the undying spirit of human kindness and, yes, hope.

Hope for the Zombie Genre

Constant readers of this blog know of my love/hate relationship with all things zombie.  There was a time when I found the reanimated, flesh eating corpse one of the most terrifying things in the horror genre.  And of course, George Romero deserves unending accolades for dreaming up the modern day zombie and setting it free to haunt our nightmares.

Unfortunately, these days, zombies are everywhere.  You've got your zombie walks, your zombie runs, your zombie cartoons, your zombie plush dolls, your zombie ice cream and, yes, even your zombie porn; and as such, a once blood curdling fantastic creature is now about as scary as a Smurf.  I half expect a Disney animated musical about zombies to show up one of these days.

That's why I am always surprised when I come across any zombie-themed work these days that is actually worth my time.  Happily, there are some works out there using the tired old shambler and infusing it with such spark and panache, one finds themselves understanding that all may not be lost when it comes to this genre.  For instance:

Tonight the AMC network begins season II of The Walking Dead, and if it's anywhere as good as last year's season, I think we are all in for a fun ride.  I was constantly impressed with the style of this series - great acting, believable characters, and, most importantly, terrifying zombies.  Of course like any good zombie tale, The Walking Dead gives us survivors that we can relate to; people who are not survivalist soldiers, but average Jane and John Doe-types driven to extraordinary measures to make it through the day (and night).

Colson Whitehead's Zone One is a witty, fatalistic novel concerning a post-zombie-Armageddon New York City where groups of clean-up crews sweep through the streets and office buildings eradicating the stray living dead in preparation for resettlement.  Presented in a non-linear style, Zone One is a narrative that uses its theme as an allegory for life in post 9/11 America.  Whitehead is a writer a million miles ahead of the pack, and that he decided to produce a novel like this one begs the question, "Why bother?"   The answer is found within the pages.  The hero known as "Mark Spitz" (it's an inside joke), seems coolly detached from the proceedings, even when he describes the events of his own personal, "Last Night" (the term used to describe the night the dead came back and everything went to hell).  Everyone has a "Last Night" story - where were you when the lights went out? - where were you when the planes hit the World Trade Center? - where were you when your neighbors started eating each other? - and soon those sad stores all seem to blend together. 

Despite it's rather lofty goals, Zone One also satisfies in terms of terror.  The scene in the book describing the fall of Broadway alone is one of the most sensational and breath taking descriptions of a nightmarish zombie infestation one might have ever read.

Do yourself a favor, read this book.

Kelly Jameson's Z=mc2: Time-Travelin' Zombies vs. the Garden State is an over-the-top, science fiction/horror, political satire novel that starts at a break neck speed, and just gets faster until it threatens to shatter the speed of light.  Set in the not so distant future (a future that amongst other things, features Sarah Palin as the President of these United States) , Z=mc2... tells the story of what happens when a dumpster behind a restaurant in the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey serves as  a portal that allows time traveling, genetically mutated zombies  to find there way to the Garden State to pick up some good eats.

Set in and around "The Pines", this novel is a kitchen-sink-stew of absurdity, laughs, gross outs, existential rants, and brilliant prose.  It's obvious that Jameson is using her story to satirize America (and South Jersey in particular), my only fear is that much of it might go over the casual reader's head (god knows, I had to go back re-read every few pages).

Any book that includes the zombie of Albert Eisenstein, chainsaw wielding bikini clad gals, and an institutionalized man  who quotes lines from Ed Wood's films, as well as  a portly attorney who goes by the name of Hilarius Fuchs (say that out loud) stands the chance of possibly becoming so character driven the reader may get a tad confused as to who's who and what's what.  And yet, despite the (seemingly) hundreds of characters populating Z=mc2..., Jameson never looses sight of the zombies.  Her monsters are brain eaters like we saw in Return of the Living Dead, and they are most certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Bottom line, if you want a change of pace in your zombie-lit experience, this is the book for you.  Also, I can't help but love the fact that all of the action is taking place in my back yard (full disclosure, I live just on the border of the infamous New Jersey Pine Barrens).

On the Air!

Since the name of the game these days is "shameless self promotion", allow me a second to engage in that practice and point you to a podcast featuring yours truly...yes, really, it's me full of caffeine and ready to chat up a storm with the Don Draper of the Horror Blogosphere, Brian Solomon over at Conversations in the Dark at The Vault of Horror.  Joining us, was that most charming zombie commandant, Captain Cruella.   

While we were supposed to be debating the films and social consciousness of George A. Romero, we also managed to touch on topics  like horror themed porn, and Sharon Stone (and you know those two subjects always go hand-in-hand).  Anyway, give a listen by clicking the link below.

LINK-A-DINK

The Real Housewives of Pittsburgh

Considering that George A. Romero started making films during one of the most turbulent decades in modern history (that would be the 1960’s, in case you were not sure), it’s easy to look at some of his earlier films and see the reflection of the times up there on the screen.  One of the things that I’ve often found most telling about Romero and his convictions, is the empathetic way most of his female characters are treated – indeed, all one needs to do is watch the follow up to Night of the Living Dead;  There’s Always Vanilla  a romantic comedy that touched briefly on the topic of abortion, and Jack’s Wife (AKA The Season of the Witch) which was a meditation on a Nixon-era-suburban-house-wife who feels the need to break free of her comfortable identity and explore other avenues in hopes of reinventing herself.  To me, at least, it seems that Romero understood the women of this era and the restrictions society put on them.  

Later, we’d see similar themes pop up in Martin;  Martin’s female cousin is ready to hook up with a louse just so she can get a ticket out the dying city she’s stuck in, and Mrs. Santini is another unhappy housewife who seemingly finds solace in the arms of the film’s protagonist as they are both lost souls trying to find a way to some sort of happiness.  Both of the women in Martin appeared to be only able to change things with the help of a man and Romero understood that cold fact – the women’s movement might have been going strong in New York City and Los Angeles, but in the rust belt, things had not changed all that much.

***

In Night of the Living Dead, there are three women.  Each of them are beholden to men for their needs:  Barbara might be smarter than her brother Johnny, but once he’s killed by a zombie, she becomes a screaming hysterical mess who can only be subdued by a right hook (watch the movie again, Ben does not just slap her to shut her up, he deck’s her!). 

Then there’s Judy. 

Obviously, what we are seeing is a burgeoning hippie chick, but she’s still not able to make up her own mind unless she’s reassured and comforted by her boy friend…and even then, she can only end up as a roasted main course for the hungry zombies.

Finally, there is Helen Cooper – Harry’s wife.

Clearly, this well dressed, finely coiffured woman has been around the block.  She is very aware that her husband is a jack ass, and she even verbalizes this to him at one point when she says, “We may not enjoy living together, but dying together isn’t going to solve any thing. “   Helen has probably even read The Feminine Mystique – but would it be enough for her to leave Harry and her daughter behind were the zombie apocalypse not happening?   Sadly, when push comes to shove, and Helen see’s her newly zombified daughter munching away on one of daddy’s limbs, she can do nothing but utter, “Poor baby”, and then fall down on the floor and scream while the little zombie brat stabs her .

In the end, the women in Night of the Living Dead all died because they depended on the men to save them.

***

Some ten years later, when Romero released, Dawn of the Dead, enough had changed in society to serve us up a female character who can not only hang with the boys, but can also be one of the survivors of the zombie uprising.

Frannie is a television producer who along with her boyfriend and two soldiers, beat a hasty retreat out of zombie-infested Philadelphia, to equally zombie infested Monroeville, where she and the boys set up house in a local shopping mall.

At first, Fran takes a somewhat docile approach to things, until one day she’s almost killed by a Hare Krishna ghoul.  After this episode, Fran lays down the law: she wants to  learn how to use a gun, fly the helicopter, and most importantly, she is not going to play mommy for the three guys! 

In one of the film’s most telling moments, the men discover that Fran is pregnant, and one of them say’s, “I can get rid of it”.  It’s downright chilling to see the matter-of-fact-way they discuss this situation, and when Fran overhears the conversation she confronts her boyfriend over the fact.

Fran (as well as the others) eventually becomes seduced by the mall.  Everything that anyone would need is close at hand – there’s a moment in the film when she is sitting at a makeup mirror piling on a ton of cosmetics until she looks like a hooker.  Eventually, she begins to remove the make up and turn back into her real self.

At film’s end, when the mall is breached by a marauding gang of bikers, Fran fights as hard as the guys to protect what they have.  But when the zombies get back into the mall, and her boyfriend is killed and reanimated, it’s clear that escape is the only option, and in the end, Fran (who is now operating the chopper) escapes with the other remaining solider.  Not only is she something of a hero, she may be humanity’s last hope for survival as she is pregnant.

In my eyes, Fran was the quintessential 70’s woman.  She might look good, but she’s also got the guts and gusto to be just as tough as one of the boys –  provided she spoke up - Gloria Steinem  would approve.

***

By the time Day of the Dead arrived  final girls and female soldiers were everywhere in movies.  From Ripley in Alien to Nancy Thompson in A Nightmare on Elm Street.  So when we meet Sarah, a gun toting, no nonsense scientist, we are in familiar territory.  Sarah is nobody’s fool, and she’s got balls big enough to go up against zombies, as well as gun happy crazy soldiers.  That she is the only woman stuck in an underground bunker with a group of men is rather interesting.   Clearly, a lesser director would have sexualized Sarah, but Romero, again, seemed to understand that the role of women in society had changed for the better and Sarah was an equal to the others (even if some of the men did not wish it so).

It seemed as if actress Lori Cardille might have been channeling Jane Fonda while playing Sarah, at least that’s what always comes to mind when I see her in this film, but whatever the case, she makes the scientist a force to reckon with whether she’s chopping off her boyfriend’s arm with a machete, or facing down a very deranged commanding army sergeant.

In spite of the fact that  Day of the Dead came out during the Reagan era, women were making major strides in business, politics and science, that said, Sarah may have been a reflection of both Margret Thatcher and  Sally Ride.

That her character survives, not only reinforces the notion that women, in Romero’s mind, will be the real hope for the future, but that it’s an  inevitability.

***

While he did not direct the 1990 remake of Night of the Living Dead, it was scripted by Romero. 

Coming full circle, this time, we find that while Barbara does go a bit spastic at first, when she finally snaps out of it, she becomes a gun toting, hard ass who actually takes the time to watch the zombies and understand that all one would need to do to escape them is outrun them.  It’s Barbara who seems to be rising above all of the yelling and screaming and hysteria.  And ultimately, it’s Barbara, who not only survives, she kills the non zombified Harry Cooper while coolly noting, “That’s another one for the fire”.

Things don’t go as well for Helen Cooper this time.  Besides realizing that her husband is a jerk, it’s clear that he is also physically abusive.  One of the most disturbing scenes in NOLD 90 is when the Cooper’s are arguing and Harry smacks his wife in the face.  Granted, she strikes back, but still, it’s highly disturbing.  That said, Helen is still independent enough to walk away from her husband and try to assist in finding the elusive keys to the gas pump (try being the operative word here), but in the end, she’s still not strong enough to avoid her flesh eating daughter.

Judy (now known as Judy Rose) is less of a doormat this time as well, she even threatens Ben and Harry reminding them that they are in her boyfriend’s house, and if they both don’t stop arguing, they can be thrown out.  But even so, she still can’t bring herself to admit that the dead are really coming back for the living (even though it’s going on all around her).  Like the Judy before her, this one also becomes a barbecued meal for the marauding ghouls.

As the film ends, Barbara, manages to make it to morning by not depending on anyone but herself – would that Helen and Judy Rose have done the same…

***

Romero has continued to populate his “Dead” films with strong female characters, and I am always pleased to note that.  One need only look at his most current, Survival of the Dead to see the characters of  Tomboy and Janet for proof.   And frankly, that’s one of the things I so admire about this man.  He could always take the easy way out and throw in a bunch of scantily clad female victims for the fan-boys to ogle, but I do believe  his aim has always been a bit higher.

These Days, Zombies are Dead to Me.

There was a time, not so long ago, that The Zombie was one of the most horrifying creatures in  popular culture.  Of course I am talking about the ghouls that sprang from the minds of Mr. George A. Romero and company way back in 1968 (prior to that you had your voodoo zombies, but they posed no real threat to anyone); Romero had us  dealing with reanimated corpses that shambled about on a lone quest - to eat the living.  Singularly, The Zombie was no real threat.  He or she was slow, stupid and clumsy, and could easily be outrun.  But when you came across a horde of them (as was often the case), things usually went bad quickly.

Those early days of movie zombies were the most terrifying. Technicolor blood and guts splashed across the screen, and while the viewer's stomach might have been turning, his nerves were in tatters - and why not?  Zombie movies were not the dime-a-dozen they are these days.  This was a time well before Max Brooks was writing tongue in cheek survival guides, or when every one had a video camera so that everyone could shoot a walking dead movie - back in the old days, The Zombie was one scary mother fucker.

So what went wrong?  When did The Zombie go from representing our collective fear of death, disease and group think to becoming just a silly prop (or worse, a cuddly monster)?

The start of the downfall  was when Michael Jackson, in 1983, gave us dancing zombie's in his short film, Thriller - but, in my humble opinion, the problem started in earnest in 1985 with the release of Return of the Living Dead; a comic  horror film that was co written by two of Romero's former collaborators, John Russo and Russell Streiner (who played Johnny in Night of the Living Dead).  While Return... has it's charms, (I know, everyone loves The Tarman) - it also had zombie's who spoke, and  craved human brains (this of course means that said zombie would have to crack open the skull of his victim to get to the coveted gray matter).  Furthermore you had zombie's wise cracking as well as at least one female ghoul who despite her rotting flesh, was a hard bodied, punk bimbo that served as way of bringing in the teen aged boys and their raging hormones into the theaters.

Happily, 1985 also saw Romero's return to the living dead with Day of the Dead.  But by this point, even The Master was getting a bit soft when he gave us Bub, the (almost) domesticated zombie who enjoys calling his Aunt Alicia, as well as feeding on human flesh.  In spite of the comic relief that Bub provided, Day of the Dead was far from being a comedy and it continued the horrific and hopeless cinematic universe Romero had created several decades earlier.

It seems that The Zombie fell out of favor for most of the 1990's - with the exception of a Romero scripted remake of Night of the Living Dead, and John Skipp and Craig Spector's anthologies (Book of the Dead & Book of the Dead II - Still Dead), there was not much in the way of flesh eaters around in the decade of Bill Clinton (Chopper Chicks in Zombietown, anyone?).

It was not until 2004 when Shaun of the Dead popped up, that The Zombie came back in a big way.  Unlike Return of the Living Dead, Shaun ... while clearly a comedy, kept The Zombie's pretty horrifying and the gore flowing.  Sure, sure, by film's end Shaun's mate is a docile, video game playing monster, but that's OK, as most of the film was pretty relentless in spite of it's comedic nature (that scene when David is torn apart by zombies has to be one of the most ballsy scenes in a so called comedy, ever!)

It seemed that after Shaun of the Dead came out, The Zombie in popular culture was suddenly  reborn - a remake of Dawn of the Dead (which heralded the introduction of the dreaded running zombie - because like everything else in America, even our ghouls have to be fast and streamlined, or maybe it's just a case of collective ADHD); the video game inspired crap fest that is the Resident Evil films;  the aforementioned Max Brooks tomes, and, seemingly hundreds, of no-budget zombie films.  These days you can't turn a corner without bumping into something zombie related.  Cities host "zombie walks", blogs celebrate the living dead, books abound about lovelorn zombies ... frankly, I think we've reached a saturation point ...and becuase of that, zombies are just not scary anymore.

Maybe it was the movie Fido (about a boy and his pet zombie) or Otto (about a gay twink zombie looking for love) or the much admired (by everyone but me) Zombieland (where the zombies are used like punchlines to bad jokes); whatever the case, the hungry dead just don't have that creepy mojo anymore.  What's even more pathetic is that while tripe like the aforementioned Zombieland is hearlded a masterpiece - when George Romero trots out his walking dead, and infuses his stories with all kinds of social commentary, his work is greeted with disdan at best, or ignored at worst.  It seems nobody want's The Zombie as a metaphor any longer.

Farewell, sweet zombies, thanks for all the scares, the nightmares, the inspiration - the world has you now, you're dead to me - for real.

The Real Housewives of Pittsburgh

Considering that George A. Romero started making films during one of the most turbulent decades in modern history (that would be the 1960’s, in case you were not sure), it’s easy to look at some of his earlier films and see the reflection of the times up there on the screen.  One of the things that I’ve often found most telling about Romero and his convictions, is the empathetic way most of his female characters are treated – indeed, all one needs to do is watch the follow up to Night of the Living Dead;  There’s Always Vanilla  a romantic comedy that touched briefly on the topic of abortion, and Jack’s Wife (AKA The Season of the Witch) which was a meditation on a Nixon-era-suburban-house-wife who feels the need to break free of her comfortable identity and explore other avenues in hopes of reinventing herself.  To me, at least, it seems that Romero understood the women of this era and the restrictions society put on them.  

Later, we’d see similar themes pop up in Martin;  Martin’s female cousin is ready to hook up with a louse just so she can get a ticket out the dying city she’s stuck in, and Mrs. Santini is another unhappy housewife who seemingly finds solace in the arms of the film’s protagonist as they are both lost souls trying to find a way to some sort of happiness.  Both of the women in Martin appeared to be only able to change things with the help of a man and Romero understood that cold fact – the women’s movement might have been going strong in New York City and Los Angeles, but in the rust belt, things had not changed all that much.

***

In Night of the Living Dead, there are three women.  Each of them are beholden to men for their needs:  Barbara might be smarter than her brother Johnny, but once he’s killed by a zombie, she becomes a screaming hysterical mess who can only be subdued by a right hook (watch the movie again, Ben does not just slap her to shut her up, he deck’s her!). 

Then there’s Judy. 

Obviously, what we are seeing is a burgeoning hippie chick, but she’s still not able to make up her own mind unless she’s reassured and comforted by her boy friend…and even then, she can only end up as a roasted main course for the hungry zombies.

Finally, there is Helen Cooper – Harry’s wife.

Clearly, this well dressed, finely coiffured woman has been around the block.  She is very aware that her husband is a jack ass, and she even verbalizes this to him at one point when she says, “We may not enjoy living together, but dying together isn’t going to solve any thing. “   Helen has probably even read The Feminine Mystique – but would it be enough for her to leave Harry and her daughter behind were the zombie apocalypse not happening?   Sadly, when push comes to shove, and Helen see’s her newly zombified daughter munching away on one of daddy’s limbs, she can do nothing but utter, “Poor baby”, and then fall down on the floor and scream while the little zombie brat stabs her .

In the end, the women in Night of the Living Dead all died because they depended on the men to save them.

***

Some ten years later, when Romero released, Dawn of the Dead, enough had changed in society to serve us up a female character who can not only hang with the boys, but can also be one of the survivors of the zombie uprising.

Frannie is a television producer who along with her boyfriend and two soldiers, beat a hasty retreat out of zombie-infested Philadelphia, to equally zombie infested Monroeville, where she and the boys set up house in a local shopping mall.

At first, Fran takes a somewhat docile approach to things, until one day she’s almost killed by a Hare Krishna ghoul.  After this episode, Fran lays down the law: she wants to  learn how to use a gun, fly the helicopter, and most importantly, she is not going to play mommy for the three guys! 

In one of the film’s most telling moments, the men discover that Fran is pregnant, and one of them say’s, “I can get rid of it”.  It’s downright chilling to see the matter-of-fact-way they discuss this situation, and when Fran overhears the conversation she confronts her boyfriend over the fact.

Fran (as well as the others) eventually becomes seduced by the mall.  Everything that anyone would need is close at hand – there’s a moment in the film when she is sitting at a makeup mirror piling on a ton of cosmetics until she looks like a hooker.  Eventually, she begins to remove the make up and turn back into her real self.

At film’s end, when the mall is breached by a marauding gang of bikers, Fran fights as hard as the guys to protect what they have.  But when the zombies get back into the mall, and her boyfriend is killed and reanimated, it’s clear that escape is the only option, and in the end, Fran (who is now operating the chopper) escapes with the other remaining solider.  Not only is she something of a hero, she may be humanity’s last hope for survival as she is pregnant.

In my eyes, Fran was the quintessential 70’s woman.  She might look good, but she’s also got the guts and gusto to be just as tough as one of the boys –  provided she spoke up - Gloria Steinem  would approve.

***

By the time Day of the Dead arrived  final girls and female soldiers were everywhere in movies.  From Ripley in Alien to Nancy Thompson in A Nightmare on Elm Street.  So when we meet Sarah, a gun toting, no nonsense scientist, we are in familiar territory.  Sarah is nobody’s fool, and she’s got balls big enough to go up against zombies, as well as gun happy crazy soldiers.  That she is the only woman stuck in an underground bunker with a group of men is rather interesting.   Clearly, a lesser director would have sexualized Sarah, but Romero, again, seemed to understand that the role of women in society had changed for the better and Sarah was an equal to the others (even if some of the men did not wish it so).

It seemed as if actress Lori Cardille might have been channeling Jane Fonda while playing Sarah, at least that’s what always comes to mind when I see her in this film, but whatever the case, she makes the scientist a force to reckon with whether she’s chopping off her boyfriend’s arm with a machete, or facing down a very deranged commanding army sergeant.

In spite of the fact that  Day of the Dead came out during the Reagan era, women were making major strides in business, politics and science, that said, Sarah may have been a reflection of both Margret Thatcher and  Sally Ride.

That her character survives, not only reinforces the notion that women, in Romero’s mind, will be the real hope for the future, but that it’s an  inevitability.

***

While he did not direct the 1990 remake of Night of the Living Dead, it was scripted by Romero. 

Coming full circle, this time, we find that while Barbara does go a bit spastic at first, when she finally snaps out of it, she becomes a gun toting, hard ass who actually takes the time to watch the zombies and understand that all one would need to do to escape them is outrun them.  It’s Barbara who seems to be rising above all of the yelling and screaming and hysteria.  And ultimately, it’s Barbara, who not only survives, she kills the non zombified Harry Cooper while coolly noting, “That’s another one for the fire”.

Things don’t go as well for Helen Cooper this time.  Besides realizing that her husband is a jerk, it’s clear that he is also physically abusive.  One of the most disturbing scenes in NOLD 90 is when the Cooper’s are arguing and Harry smacks his wife in the face.  Granted, she strikes back, but still, it’s highly disturbing.  That said, Helen is still independent enough to walk away from her husband and try to assist in finding the elusive keys to the gas pump (try being the operative word here), but in the end, she’s still not strong enough to avoid her flesh eating daughter.

Judy (now known as Judy Rose) is less of a doormat this time as well, she even threatens Ben and Harry reminding them that they are in her boyfriend’s house, and if they both don’t stop arguing, they can be thrown out.  But even so, she still can’t bring herself to admit that the dead are really coming back for the living (even though it’s going on all around her).  Like the Judy before her, this one also becomes a barbecued meal for the marauding ghouls.

As the film ends, Barbara, manages to make it to morning by not depending on anyone but herself – would that Helen and Judy Rose have done the same…

***

Romero has continued to populate his “Dead” films with strong female characters, and I am always pleased to note that.  One need only look at his most current, Survival of the Dead to see the characters of  Tomboy and Janet for proof.   And frankly, that’s one of the things I so admire about this man.  He could always take the easy way out and throw in a bunch of scantily clad female victims for the fan-boys to ogle, but I do believe  his aim has always been a bit higher.

Town Without Pity

I just recently re-watched, George Romero's Martin.

It had been almost twenty years since last I saw this twisted tale of a lonely youth from a majorly dysfunctional family who believes that he is an 84 year old vampire. A lot was going on my in life back then, and while I recall enjoying the movie, I don't think I gave it much thought once the video tape was placed back in its holder and the television went dark.

Today, watching Martin from an entirely different perspective; it is clear to me that George A. Romero is much more than a one-trick-zombie of a filmmaker.

On the surface, Martin is an odd little horror film about a young man, who may, or may not, be an actual vampire (true, he lacks fangs - can not turn into a bat - walks in daylight - is unaffected by garlic and crosses); but once the viewer digs a bit deeper, he or she will discover a treasure trove of themes like the death of small cities, the generation gap, the women's movement (and how it seemed to stall in the mid-70's, leaving middle class women wondering "what's next?"), sexual desire, and religion.

Played by John Amplas, Martin is a somewhat fey young man who outwardly seems to be a social outcast with some possible mental health issues. Of course once we watch him stalk and kill a young woman by injecting her with a sedative and then slicing her arm with a razor so he can drink her blood, five minutes into the movie, we understand that he's one fucked up puppy.

For some reason, Martin has been sent from his home in Indiana to go stay with his (seemingly much older) cousin, Tada (Lincoln Maazel) in Braddock, Pennsylvania, a small city that seems to have had it's life blood drained years ago. Cousin Tada immediately lets Martin know, that he is not going to stand for any kind of vampire shenanigans. In fact when Martin gets to his cousin's house he finds garlic wreaths on bedroom doors, and crucifixes a-plenty awaiting him. However crazy Martin may be, he does know that garlic and crosses have no effect on him, and he proves this to his cousin by eating some of the garlic, and kissing the crucifix. Nonetheless, Cousin Tada is not swayed and calls him, "Nosferatu".

Luckily, Tada's daughter, Christina (played by the soon-to-be-real-life Mrs. Romero, Christine Forrest) shows honest sympathy for her second cousin, and tells him that he is a victim of the family's long history of mental illness. But Chris has problems of her own, stuck in a dead end relationship with Arthur, (make-up maestro, Tom Savini) It is only later on that we understand the reason Chris is staying with this ner-do-well is that he will eventually become her ticket out of the dying city of Braddock. (It must be noted that Forrest turns in one of the best performances in this movie - she is honestly a damn good actress, even if she reminds me of a younger version of the woman who plays Mrs. Foreman on That 70's Show).

As things progress, Tada puts Martin to work as a delivery boy for his small, but thriving, butcher shop. It is during his tenure that he meets Mrs. Santaini (Elyane Nadeau), a desperate housewife from Braddock's more affluent suburbs. Flush with money and creature comforts, Mrs. Santaini is a beautiful, sad creature who wastes no time coming on to Martin shortly after meeting him. It is clear that she has somehow met a kindred spirit in the doe eyed youth who barely speaks. Martin is reticent at first, fearful that his sexual urges may cause him to kill the woman he might in fact desire.

To quell his appetites, Martin starts calling a late-night radio talk show where he is known as "The Count". Here he has an outlet, and a sounding board where he can tell the truth about vampirism ... that "the magic" is not real, there are no coffins to sleep in, no harem of undead brides at his beck and call; there is only the compulsion to drink blood.

It is during one of these radio mid-night confessions that we discover that Martin's blood lust is tied up with his sexuality. He feels that if he could, just once, have sex with out killing, he might be "cured". It's an interesting premise, because to this viewer, it seemed that Martin's sexuality might be the issue, would that he have dabbled in homosexuality, would murder follow? Does this boyishly handsome little freak just need some mano-a-mano shag time to break him of his taste for plasma?

Be that as it may, there will be blood.

Martin, at his Cousin's instance, strays far from town to find victims, and most of them are women like Mrs. Santini. Unhappy, upper middle-class women who Martin methodically stalks until the time is right to strike.

Interestingly enough, whenever Martin goes out to feed, his mind travels to fantasy-like black and white visions of himself as a well dressed classic vampire who follows willing, and big breasted, maidens in flowing night gowns through candle lit Gothic castles. Sometimes he fancies that he is being chased by an angry mob with torches through fog shrouded cobblestone streets ... all a far cry from the rusted out hulk of Braddock and it's shuttered store fronts and abandoned factories.

Of course the reality is that Martin is drugging unsuspecting victims, slicing them open, lapping up their blood and leaving them for dead.

Meanwhile, Cousin Tada (can't get enough of that name) drags his charge along to church. And here we discover that Braddock's only Catholic church is merely a shell as most of it was destroyed in a fire. The congregants meet in a small room upstairs in the one section of the chapel that was not completely ruined. But the big news at the parish is the new young priest whose come to town, Father Howard (played by none other than the film's director). Later that same day, Tada invites the young priest to his house for a meal, and begins grilling him on matters of faith. Needless to say, the old man is outraged over the holy man's less than fundamental beliefs and realizes that he will be of no help in ridding his cousin of demons.

From here things go from bad to worse as an exorcism Tada sets up with an older priest goes horribly awry, Mrs. Santaini falls into a deep depression, Christina leaves home, and Martin realizes that his longing for blood is chronic.

What's a demon to do?

In that the film, Martin seems to be tackling so many questions at once, it can be a tad confusing. There are some scenes that could have been trimmed, and a few of the actors might have benefited from , well, maybe taking acting classes -- but heck, that's small potatoes as this movie is so damn entertaining, artistic and compelling.

One of my favorite scenes is this bizarre moment when Martin happens across a marching band in a parade, and joins in, high stepping with the high-school kids and smiling like a fool. It makes no sense whatsoever, and yet it works. Another brilliant moment occurs when Martin appears complete with fake fangs, a cape and white make-up and sets out to scare his cousin. The entire scene is shot silent, and it is wonderful!

All in all, Martin is a fantastic piece of independent film making that turns the vampire legend on it's ear and places the action away from the misty moors and in to a Town Without Pity during a time when everything seemed to be dying; the hopes of the 60s', the memories of an older generation, the beliefs of the faithful, the dreams of a younger generation ... all of it just seemed to be falling apart, rusting like an abandoned car in a junk yard or, maybe, just maybe, like the rotting mind of a beautiful young man who in reality is nothing more than a deranged psychopath.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Georgie!

How could this have slipped my mind?

Happy Birthday to the father of The Modern Zombie. George A. Romero is 68 today.

You know him from his "Dead Films", but Uncle Georgie should be celebrated for more than those (admittedly) groundbreaking films.

Seek out some of his more obscure pieces like, Season of the Witch, a film concerning a suburban housewife who feels that her very identity is being diluted by her existence as a trophy wife to a successful businessman . Then take a look at Knightriders in which Romero re-tells the King Arthur legend via a group of motorcyclists who live out the Camelot dream on their hogs (and make note of a peripheral character who is gay and is not played for laughs).

And as for you flesh eating fans, February 15th marks the release of his latest Dead Film, Diary of the Dead!

Many happy returns of the day, to one of the true independent film makers out there!