2/9/15 (Part One): Stay Frosty, My Friends

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Ane Dahl Torp, Army of Darkness, auteur theory, Ørjan Gamst, Bjørn Sundquist, cabins, Charlotte Frogner, Christian Wibe, co-writers, Colonel Herzog, dark comedies, Dead Alive, Dead Snow, Dod Sno, Einsatz, Evy Kasseth Røsten, favorite films, Film auteurs, foreign films, friends, gore films, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, horror franchises, horror movies, horror-comedies, isolation, Jenny Skavlan, Jeppe Beck Laursen, Lasse Valdal, Matthew Weston, Nazi zombies, Nazis, Nightmare City, Norwegian films, Peter Jackson, ski vacation, Stig Frode Henriksen, stolen gold, Tommy Wirkola, Vegar Hoel, writer-director, zombies

There may not be many guarantees in this world but here’s one that you can take straight to the bank: Nazis will always make great cinematic villains. After all, what other group is so synonymous with complete and total evil, so unburdened with any easy notions of humanity or morality? For filmmakers, Nazis are real-world vampires and boogeymen, historical realities where the “black hats” are so intrinsically part of the package that there’s never a need to sugarcoat or offer any sort of counterpoint: after all, what person, in their right mind, is actually going to stick up for these ghouls? Who’s going to raise their hand and protest the traditionally black-and-white presentation of these blood-thirsty bastards? If you think about it, Nazis are just about the best, purest personification of evil we’ve got: pure, undiluted hatred, with no possibility for empathy or sympathy.

While filmmakers learned long ago that Nazis make sure-fire villains, horror filmmakers have managed to one-up this notion of “ultimate evil” by taking it to its logical conclusion: ravenous Nazi zombies. What’s worse than a Nazi, after all, than a flesh-eating Nazi that can’t be killed? From cult classics like Shock Waves (1977) and Zombie Lake (1980) to more recent films like the Outpost series (2008-2013) and Blood Creek (2009), genre filmmakers have been mining this vein for some time, albeit with decidedly mixed results. For the most part, however, these films all have one thing in common: they portray their undead Nazi menaces as terrifying, dead-serious threats.

This tendency towards a more serious tone is completely obliterated by Norwegian writer-director Tommy Wirkola’s massively entertaining Dead Snow (2009), an honest-to-god horror-comedy that manages to make the threat of undead Nazis both suitably terrifying and impossibly funny. Similar to the early splatter-comedies of Peter Jackson,  Wirkola’s outrageous tale about a ski vacation gone very, very wrong is a high-energy romp filled with gory effects, incredibly rude humor and some of the most kickass action setpieces in the game. When the film falls short, it’s a slightly silly, rather predictable variation on traditional zombie films. When Wirkola and company lock into a groove, however (which is most of the time), Dead Snow is absolutely relentless, ridiculously fun and one of the very best horror films of the ’00s.

Dead Snow kicks off with that hoariest of old tropes, the group of friends heading to the country for some rest and relaxation. In this case, the location is the snow-covered Norwegian countryside and the friends are the usual mixed group of character types: we have couple Martin (Vegar Hoel) and Hanna (Charlotte Frogner); wise-cracking horror movie buff Erlend (Jeppe Beck Laursen); Hanna’s cousin, Chris (Jenny Skavlan); outdoorsy Vegard (Lasse Valdal), who’s dating Sara (Ane Dahl Torp), whose family owns the cabin that they’re headed to; Roy (co-writer Stig Frode Henriksen) and Liv (Evy Kasseth Røsten). For the most part, they’re all likable characters, although most are sketched as lightly as one would expect for this type of genre offering: Martin is a doctor-in-training who faints at the sight of blood, Chris is the “hot girl” who falls for the resident nerd, Erlend always has a relevant bit of horror movie trivia for any particular situation, etc…Again, nothing we haven’t seen before, although it’s a refreshing change of pace to have a horror ensemble that’s this likable: only the hardest of hearts would root against this batch of cheerful goofballs.

Since the film’s very first scene depicts Sara fleeing through the woods, pursued by shadowy, malevolent figures in vintage Nazi regalia (to the tune of “Hall of the Mountain King,” which is just about as epic as it sounds), we’re already hip to some strange happenings in these here parts, but we get our official confirmation when a mysterious stranger (Bjørn Sundquist) shows up at the cabin to pour Pernod all of the partying youths’ ice cream. Turns out that the area they’re in has a bit of a bad history: a particularly ruthless Nazi battalion, led by the stone-cold Colonel Herzog (Ørjan Gamst), terrorized the locals there during the waning days of World War II. After the locals turned the tables and massacred the Nazis, Herzog and a group of his men escaped into the snowy mountains, never to be seen again. According to the stranger, the group, known as the Einsatz, still lurks up there, somewhere, waiting for unwitting victims to wreck their ageless vengeance on.

We wouldn’t have a movie if our plucky heroes took good advise, however, so they kick the stranger out and keep partying. When Vegard takes off to look for his tardy girlfriend, however, we get that other reliable horror convention: the splitting of the group. As the various friends go about their business, monstrous figures lurk in the shadows until everything comes to an explosive head (literally) and the group finds themselves under frenzied assault from a mob of zombified Nazis, led by the rotted but impossibly serene undead commandant. When the zombie mayhem kicks in, it never quits, rocketing our group (and us) full-throttle towards their inevitable rendezvous with ultimate evil. Our plucky heroes will need to fight back with everything they have, however: Herzog and his minions are on a mission straight from Hell and woe to anyone who gets in their way.

From beginning to end, Wirkola’s Dead Snow is an absolute blast of pure, undiluted fun. I’ve already mentioned the resemblance to Jackson’s early films, although Dead Snow is anything but a Dead Alive (1992) rip-off, even though both films share similar DNA. If anything, the film often plays like a far more splattery version of Raimi’s goofy Army of Darkness (1992): Army of Darkness even features a Deadite general who bears more than a passing resemblance to Dead Snow’s Herzog. There’s a good-natured tone to the carnage and chaos that completely belies the often show-stopping violence: you wouldn’t think that a scene involving a character rappelling down a mountain-side, using intestines for rope, would be silly and giddy but, in Wirkola’s hands, it most certainly is. Nothing in the film is watered down and no one is safe, lending a bracing sense of unpredictability to the proceedings: any character has the potential to be eviscerated at any moment and the film has a blast playing with these expectations.

Similar to Lenzi’s zombies in Nightmare City (1980), Wirkola’s zombies are fast, ferocious and more prone to stabbing you to death than trying to take a chomp out of your ankle. While I’ve never been the biggest fan of “fast zombies” (or smart zombies, for that matter), the ones in Dead Snow work brilliantly. In many ways, the film is extremely action-oriented, even for a zombie siege film: similar to how Dario Argento filled his films with “murder setpieces,” Wirkola’s is filled with white-knuckle fights against the resurrected Nazis. While there are a few instances of more measured, atmospheric horror (such as the excellent scene where Chris is stalked in the outhouse), most of the film involves the zombies chasing down and butchering their prey right out in the open, as the poor humans put up whatever resistance they can muster.

And muster resistance, they do: if you don’t find yourself jumping from your seat on a regular basis, fist raised to the sky, as Martin and the others kick zombie ass…well, I feel kinda sorry for you. Whether it’s the awesome bit where Vegard attaches a machine gun to his snow-mobile or the truly epic battle between Martin, Roy and about a million dead Nazis, Dead Snow is one great set-piece after another. When the film really gets going, it rarely stops, inching on the brakes only to highlight some of the film’s more overtly humorous aspects.

The humor, of course, is the other thing: while many horror-comedies completely botch the chills-to-giggles ratio, Wirkola and co-writer Henriksen prove as apt with the funny stuff as the runny stuff. While much of the humor revolves around gross-out gags and decidedly immature, politically incorrect observations about the world at large, there’s an underlying element of razor-sharp, insightful, pitch-black satire that serves as a sturdy foundation. One of my favorite scenes here (or in any movie, to be honest), involves the classic bit where Martin must deal with getting bit: after successfully going through all the usual motions, via a quick-cut montage, he stands victorious, only to immediately get bit by another zombie. It’s a brilliant gag that works on many levels (Dead Snow has lots of fun playing with standard zombie flick clichés) but is completely sold by Hoel’s all-in performance as Martin: his frustrated howl makes me spit-take every time I watch the film.

While the film is extremely well-made (the cinematography is quite attractive and the excellent score, courtesy of Christian Wibe, really heightens the action), it’s the incredibly game, likable cast that really puts this over the top. To a tee, none of the characters are unduly obnoxious (although Martin has a few quirks, like almost suffocating his girlfriend while messing around, that are admittedly worrisome) and we come to genuinely care for all of them. We spend the most time with Martin, our defacto protagonist, but they’re all a hoot, really. I’m particularly fond of Valdal’s “Spicoli by way of the great outdoors” take on Vegard: he cuts a helluva heroic swath through the evil Einsatz and never even looks like he breaks a sweat, which is a pretty sweet trick.

Ultimately, Dead Snow is just about as good as it gets for this kind of film. Genuinely funny, gory enough to impressive the hounds, full of likable, memorable characters and possessed of some seriously badass villains, everything about Wirkola’s sophomore film (his debut was a Norwegian “re-imagining” of Kill Bill (2003), believe it or not) is top-notch entertainment. While some critics bemoaned Wirkola’s followup, the tongue-in-cheek Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013), I found that film to be equally delightful, establishing the writer-director as a budding auteur along the lines of Peter Jackson or Frank Hennenlotter. Wirkola would go on to turn Dead Snow into a franchise with the equally excellent, English-language Dead Snow 2: Red vs Dead (2014), proving that he’s no flash-in-the-pan. Suffice to say, no one rides the solid line between horror and comedy quite like Wirkola does: as long as he’s driving, I’ll be more than happy to ride shotgun.

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10/12/14 (Part Two): Zombies, Aliens and Meteors…Oh My!

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31 Days of Halloween, aliens, Australian films, Australian horror films, cinema, co-directors, co-writers, Daybreakers, Dead Alive, Dirk Hunter, Edgar Wright, Emma Randall, feature-film debut, Felicity Mason, film reviews, films, Gaynor Wensley, gore films, horror-comedies, infections, meteor, Michael Spierig, Movies, Mungo McKay, Peter Jackson, Peter Spierig, Rob Jenkins, sci-fi, sci-fi-horror, small town life, the Spierig Brothers, triple shotgun, twist ending, undead, writer-director, zombie, zombie film, zombies

For the most part, it’s extremely hard to surprise me with a twist in a horror film. This has nothing to do with me being some sort of super-astute audience member (although I like to think that I pay careful attention will watching) and everything to do with the fact that I’ve spent the majority of my life watching every single horror flick I could get my hands on. Trust me: if I’ve seen some of this shit once, I’ve seen it a hundred thousand times. “It was only a dream” ending? Check. Unreliable narrator? Yup. “I see dead people?” That one sounds familiar. How about that old classic “It was only a dream but now it’s about to come true?” Yawn. “We were ghosts all along?” Sounds familiar. “This desolate wasteland is actually Earth?” Move along, folks…nothing to see here. For the most part, cinematic twists are like any other aspect of pop films: if it worked once, conventional wisdom says that it will work forever, ad infinitum.

The first time that I sat down to watch the Spierig Brothers’ (Michael and Peter) feature-debut, Undead (2003), I was pretty sure that I knew what I would be getting in for. This was a modern-day zombie film, so I was pretty sure this was either going to follow the Shaun of the Dead (2004) mode (although Undead actually preceded Wright’s British rom-zom-com) or Zack Snyder’s ultra self-referential Dawn of the Dead (2004) remake (although Undead actually came before that one, too). It was an Australian film, so I was pretty sure that it would be suitably gory and/or rather insane, as Aussie genre films are wont to be. At the time, I didn’t really know much more about the film than that: it was just the newest genre film that I’d yet to see, which pretty much made it must-see for me, sight unseen.

Little did I know, of course, that Undead is anything but your average zombie film. Hell, it’s not really like your average anything, to be honest: if I had to classify the film, I’d say that it exists in a suitably daffy territory somewhere between Peter Jackson’s classic gore comedy Dead Alive (1992) and Edgar Wright’s gonzo alien-invasion comedy The World’s End (2013). It’s a zombie film, to be sure, but it’s also an alien invasion film that features deadly acid rain, a hulking, nearly silent hero with a triple-shotgun and a happy-go-lucky finale that’s like a sloppy make-out session between Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977) and Stephen King’s Under the Dome. It’s a gore film, through and through, featuring some mighty impressive practical effects mixed in with some less than thoroughly convincing CGI but it’s also a good-natured, character-based comedy that places a premium on convincing acting and keeps the scenery chewing to a bare minimum. In short, Undead isn’t really like any one thing: it’s more like the rag-tag Voltron of out-of-control exploitation cinema, come to save the world while tearing as many people in half as possible. It is, to be honest, a complete treasure.

Since part of the unmitigated joy of watching Undead involves all of the ingenious little ways in which co-writers/directors Michael and Peter Spierig constantly screw with expectations, it behooves me to say as little about the actual plot as possible. Suffice to say that the film begins with a meteor shower, turns into a zombie apocalypse film and then proceeds to morph into something completely batshit crazy. While I’ve referenced several things that would seem to give a pretty good indication of the film’s intended direction, nothing can really prepare one for the bizarre ways in which the Spierigs decide to connect the dots. The best advise I can give with the film is to go in as blissfully unaware as possible and just surrender yourself to the insanity. Trust that the Spierigs will get you from Point A to Point Z intact (despite how insane the film becomes, it always makes perfect, if cracked, sense which is something of a minor miracle) and just get to the business of enjoying the film.

And, boy howdy, is there a lot to enjoy here. Despite the occasionally dodgy effect (the CGI sky, in particular, never looks quite right), Undead is an absolute special effects marvel, filled with one eye-popping setpiece after another. Picking favorites is kind of moot, since they’re all so good but particular standouts would definitely include the amazing convenience-store battle (the makeshift broom/circular saw weapon would make Ash weep with joy) and the bit where Marion (Mungo McKay) strides through the landscape bare-ass naked, wasting zombies just as ruthlessly as when his delicate bits were covered up. The finale is a completely gonzo joy and the seemingly never-ending zombie mayhem is handled with as much cheeky aplomb as the similar material in Jackson’s Dead Alive, pretty much the gold standard for these types of films.

In most horror/action films, you’re lucky if you get one truly great hero: Undead actually gives you two, the aforementioned absolute badass Marion and the film’s heroine, Rene (Felicity Mason). In any other film, a character like Marion would steal the film from the rest of the cast and head straight for the hills: how in the hell are you supposed to compete with a one-man zombie kill-squad who carries a triple-shotgun and comes straight out of the “Man With No Name” school of near-silent asskickery? One iconic character isn’t enough for Undead, however, since we also get Rene, a former beauty contest winner who ends up being the most no-nonsense, take charge, ass-kicking heroine since Ripley had a little problem with an uninvited interstellar guest. While McKay and Mason are both absolutely amazing performers, they’re handily supported by a better-than-average cast, including Emma Randall as an asthma inhaler-armed deputy and Dirk Hunter as a ridiculously macho gun-nut police officer who constantly attempts to assume authority without ever actually assuming it.

From a craft-point, Undead is an exceptionally well-made film. There’s a sense of whimsy to the proceedings that helps to temper the extreme violence (and Undead is extremely violent, no two ways about it), in a similar strategy to Dead Alive, and the film is full of nuance and subtlety, despite the filmmakers’ “go-for-broke” approach to the craft. The movie never feels silly, however, and proudly earns each and every one of its horror beats: this is a full-throttle horror film, first and foremost, despite the wealth of laugh-out-loud moments. And laugh-out-loud moments there are aplenty: Marion engaging in fisticuffs with a zombified fish…Rene cutting a zombie in half with a steering wheel club…Dept. Harrison assuring everyone that “people hallucinate sometimes when they panic…I know that I do,” which has to rank as the last thing you want to hear a cop say in an emergency…Marion hanging upside down from the door frame, by his spurs, and blowing away zombies left and right…as I said earlier, it’s literally one amazing setpiece after another for the better part of 90 minutes.

The Spierig Brothers would go on to make Daybreakers (2009), the Ethan Hawke-led vampire film, although that’s a solid step down from what’s on display here. Like Peter Jackson, the Spierigs are at their absolute best when indulging all of their (many) whims: larger budgets and the participation of more “respectable” agencies just seem to dilute their impact. While there’s nothing terrible wrong with Daybreakers, there’s also nothing particularly exceptional about it, either: when compared with Undead, however, the deficiencies become that much more glaring.

Like Dead Alive, Undead will absolutely not be for everyone’s tastes. It’s hard not to oversell the film’s violence and gore quotient but sensitive souls should take note: the film thrives on graphic dismemberment and bodily explosions in a way that indicates that New Zealand and Australia might be close, geographically, but they’re even closer, cinematically. The film might not revel quite as much in the over-the-top obscenity of Jackson’s classic (you won’t find any zombie wombs in this, period, much less ones large enough to stuff a protagonist into) but it never shirks on either the red stuff or clever ideas, either. And there’s actually one point on which Undead absolutely trumps Dead Alive: while Dead Alive had a rip-roaring finale that made you want to pump your fist in the air, Undead has a mind-blowingly cerebral one that really makes you think about everything that came before. Bloody, hilarious and thought-provoking? Without a doubt, Undead is the real deal: if your stomach is strong enough, give this a try and meet your new favorite film.

10/12/14 (Part One): Beat on the Zom-Brat

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'90s films, 31 Days of Halloween, auteur theory, Bad Taste, Brenda Kendall, cinema, co-writers, Dead Alive, Diana Penalver, Elizabeth Moody, favorite films, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, foreign films, Fran Walsh, gore films, Heavenly Creatures, horror-comedies, Ian Watkin, Meet the Feebles, Movies, New Zealand films, Peter Jackson, practical effects, Raiders of the Lost Ark, special-effects extravaganza, Stuart Devenie, The Frighteners, The Lord of the Rings, Timothy Balme, writer-director, zombies

Fans who flocked to Peter Jackson after his groundbreaking adaptation of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings (2001-2003) must have really had their worlds expanded once they started to take a trip through his back catalog. The Frighteners (1996) isn’t such a stretch, obviously, and Heavenly Creatures (1994) is certainly a strange film but it’s more of an arthouse curio than a truly deviant piece of filmmaking. Go back further than that, however, and you truly start to hang out in the weird part of town. Jackson began his career with a trio of films that managed to explore perversity, gore, shock, taboos and humor in some pretty bracing ways: Bad Taste (1987), Meet the Feebles (1989) and Dead Alive (1992) are just as shocking today, in many ways, as they were over two decades ago. Very few films have ever dared to tread ground half as controversial as Jackson’s X-rated puppet spectacular Meet the Feebles and his Bad Taste manages to live up to its name in just about every way possible. And then, of course, there’s Dead Alive.

For horror fans of a certain age, especially those who’ve always sought out the more extreme ends of the genre, Jackson’s Dead Alive has been something of a right of passage since it was released 22 years ago. Popular mythology states that Dead Alive is the goriest film ever made and, to be quite frank, I’m more than inclined to agree. Oh sure, there are plenty of films out there are more extreme and unpleasant, more focused on mean-spirited body torture and nerve-wracking surgical procedures than Jackson’s zombie-comedy. There’s been twenty years of special effects improvements since the early ’90s and even network TV shows (think about some of the setpieces in NBC’s Hannibal and recall a time when NYPD Blue’s bare butts were a sign of the impending apocalypse) are trafficking in the kind of gore effects that used to be the sole purview of underground horror flicks. Conventional wisdom would seem to make it impossible for Dead Alive to keep its throne after all this time. After rewatching the film, however, I was struck with a realization: this is still just as bracing, intense and hardcore as it ever was. In fact, I’m hard-pressed to think of any other film that manages to maintain such a consistent level of gleefully insane, gore-drenched mayhem as Dead Alive does: that the film also manages to come across as sweet-natured and decidedly old-fashioned is not a fluke…it’s one of the reasons why Peter Jackson has been one of the world’s most interesting filmmakers since he first burst onto the scene.

At its heart, Dead Alive is a sweet love story about clumsy, mild-mannered nice-guy Lionel (Timothy Balme) and fiery shop-clerk, Pacquita (Diana Penalver). Pacquita has fallen madly in love with Lionel thanks to a Tarot reading and is determined to get her “happily ever after,” even though poor Lionel seems more bemused than smitten. There is, of course, one big problem: Lionel’s absolutely wretched mother, Vera (Elizabeth Moody). Vera is a complete harpy – nasty, vain, hectoring, verbally abusive, snide, stuck-up…she makes Anne Ramsey’s awful mother in Throw Momma From the Train (1987) seem like Mary Poppins, by comparison. Vera has Lionel completely wrapped around her finger and likes it that way. When she notices that her little boy is showing an undue interest in the shop clerk, Vera springs into action, determined to keep them apart at all costs.

As Vera spies on the young lovers at the zoo, however, she manages to stand just a little too close to the Sumatran Rat Monkey cage. We’ve been introduced to this particular critter already, of course, thanks to an ingeniously gory intro that manages to parody both Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) and King Kong (1933) and we know what’s coming: in due time, Vera has contracted a bit of the ol’ zombie sickness and has got to the business of rotting and eating unsuspecting people and animals. Soon, Lionel’s full-time job becomes keeping an eye on his zombified mother and her increasing horde of victims, all of which he keeps tranquilized in the basement, in order to prevent the kind of mass zombie invasion that seems all-too imminent. Poor Lionel is getting run ragged, however, and has started to push Pacquita away, in order to keep her safe from the mounting chaos. When Lionel’s unbelievably shitty uncle, Les (Ian Watkin), shows up and wants a piece of his dead sister’s estate, however, Lionel is pushed to the breaking point. Over the course of one insane night, Lionel, Pacquita, a mob of Uncle Les’ obnoxious rockabilly friends and a horde of ravenous zombies will all converge: heads will fly, limbs will fly, guts will fly, lawn mowers will be used as melee weapons, lawn gnomes will be jammed into bloody neck stumps and Lionel will learn that mother doesn’t always know best, particularly when she’s trying to chew off your face.

In any other hands, it would be easy to see how Dead Alive could have been nothing more than a grueling test of one’s cast-iron stomach, the horror movie equivalent of a game of freeway chicken. It’s absolutely no hyperbole to say that the film is drenched in blood: the intro features multiple dismemberment and the resulting blood “splashes” onto the screen, forming the film’s title…this is nothing if not truth in advertising, friends and neighbors. Jackson’s gore epic features everything that you expect from the “typical” zombie film (graphic flesh-eating; gut-munching; zombies blasted into pieces) but manages to add sequences that vault the film into a whole other stratosphere, such as the bit where a zombie pushes through another character and wears them like a mask or the bit where Lionel runs in place for several minutes because the floor is completely covered in slippery blood and body parts. Very little in this world really compares to Lionel being forced back into his (now enormous) dead mother’s womb, however, and this certainly serves as one of those horror watershed moments: if this film doesn’t bother you, congratulations…in all likelihood, very little will.

The gore effects and setpieces are absolutely astounding and jaw-dropping, no two ways about it, but the film’s real ace card is it’s totally wacky sense of humor. Despite being as intensely violent as anything out there, Dead Alive is also remarkably silly, goofy and, most surprisingly, good-natured. The film often fills like a fairy tale or kids’ movie gone awry, thanks to Jackson’s heightened use of magical realism and his trademark production design. Rather than feeling forced or out-of-place, the numerous comedy setpieces shine as brightly as the gore ones. One of my favorite scenes in any film, ever, is the spectacular moment where Father McGruder (Stuart Devenie) runs up to assist Lionel with his zombie problem and immediately springs into gleeful kung-fu mode: “I kick ass for the Lord,” he chortles, as he (literally) karate-kicks a zombie into multiple pieces. The scene is silly, sure, but it’s also a ton of fun and is tonally perfect. Likewise the scene where Lionel takes the zom-baby for a stroll in the park and tries to emulate the behavior of the parents, especially once the situation manages to spiral completely out of control: there are few joys quite as sublime as watching Lionel elbow-drop onto the rubber baby or drop-kick it across the park as concerned mothers raise eyebrows sky-high.

This, then, becomes the film’s true legacy: the movie is astoundingly gory and frequently completely disgusting (you’ll probably never look at custard the same way again) but it’s never anything less than good-natured, fun and 100% entertaining. Dead Alive may just be the perfect party film, for horror fans, especially if one can watch the film with neophytes: it’s one of the few films where I truly envy newbies the experience of seeing it for the first time, especially when one reaches the show-stopping party climax. Personally, I’ve always liked Meet the Feebles a little more than Dead Alive, probably because the former film will always seem like a nasty, transgressive marvel to me while the latter has increasingly achieved the kind of warm and fuzzy sentimentality that most folks probably associate with their favorite Christmas movies. That being said, Dead Alive is one of those films that made its way to my “favorite films” list after one viewing and has never left. I’m a fan of lots of different things, from the cute-and-cuddly to the soul-shattering but Dead Alive has always been a guideline for me, in a way: if you don’t like the film, we can still exist in the same orbit…I’ll always understand if the movie isn’t someone’s cup of tea. If you love this movie as much as I do, however, than you and I are gonna get along just fine.