Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Review of Dawn of the Dead
Fast zombies are controversial… not in the same way as late term abortions are controversial, but among horror aficionados, the debate rages: can zombies run? As a devout liberal (with libertarian leanings) I say that whatever makes the zombies happy should be allowed. They seem to want to run, run free and bloody, and I say huzzah. Kinetic zombies are also a shitload scarier than their shambling cousins. I have seen the George Romero classic, Night of the Living Dead and was unimpressed. Horror classics rarely stand the test of time, especially as modern taste has rendered the public largely immune to guy-in-rubber-suit style thrills. A zombie that takes half the film to cross the front lawn, is simply not a terrible threat… you could jog down to Walmart, buy a shotgun, come back (with a Slurpee) and blow the guy’s head off before he reached the porch.
In the new Dawn of the Dead, based on Romero’s slightly less classic Living Dead sequel, the dead sprint, jump, twitch and dance (there’s a scene in the middle of the film where a large crowd of them amble around in pointless circles, making them look like Glenn Miller night at the old folks home). The dead are threatening, restless and plentiful, which gives the movie a palpable sense of dread and hopelessness. Any joy the characters derive from living, rent and tax free in a fully stocked mall is tempered by the realization that any respite is fleeting, and ultimately empty. They know that it’s only a matter of time until they all die and rise again. Which makes this the feel good movie of the year.
Don’t mistake me, this isn’t Sophie’s Choice. The characters in Dawn of the Dead are fairly shallow, if entertaining. Sarah Polley and Ving Rhames both stand out of an otherwise unremarkable cast. Polley’s performance is subtle, which is typical for her, but it helps us to believe her sadness, strength and vulnerability… she should be applauded for eschewing the chest beating, Sigourney Weaver route. Rhames plays his tough cop character coldly throughout, but gives us one or two moments when we see his façade break into grief.
The highest praise I can give a horror film is to say that I had trouble sleeping. The Ring kept me up nights for a week. Dawn of the Dead kept me up till Letterman… less worried that a zombie would attack me in my sleep, and more worried that the building would be surrounded when I woke up the next morning. What the hell could I do? I have little food in the house. I’d end up eating the cat food, then probably the cats. I have no weapons… just the samurai sword, and what good would that be against the hordes of undead who only need to bite you to cause an agonizing, unnatural death? Indeed, I am ill prepared for Armageddon, or even a small earthquake.
Given that I live on a series of small faults, I should rationally concern myself more with the latter than the former; yet I can't seem to get as excited about it.
