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Tag Archives: The Walking Dead

12/27/14 (Part One): Tongue Through Cheek

14 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by phillipkaragas in Uncategorized

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Bruce Campbell, Chad Herschberger, cinema, co-writers, Doc of the Dead, documentaries, documentary, film reviews, films, George Romero, goofy, Greg Nicotero, horror films, interviews, Max Brooks, Movies, Night of the Living Dead, pop culture, Robert Kirkman, SImon Pegg, The Walking Dead, Tom Savini, voodoo, writer-director, zombie invasion, zombies

DOTD_poster__27x40_FINAL1

Sometimes, it’s not what you say but how you say it. Take, for example, documentary filmmaker Alexandre O. Philippe’s Doc of the Dead (2014). Chock full of fun interviews, interesting tidbits and plenty of in-depth history about the genesis and evolution of the zombie in both film and pop culture, there’s a lot to like here. Despite all of the good information, however, Philippe’s film still nearly sinks under the weight of its frequently flippant, mocking tone, especially when the film drops any “serious” pretensions and devolves into a series of silly zombie invasion spoofs and tedious musical skits.

When Doc of the Dead isn’t taking cheap potshots at the sillier aspects of its subject matter (zombie survivalists, zombie porn and the like), it’s quite an interesting, fast-paced film, if decidedly lightweight. Philippe and co-writer/editor Chad Herschberger utilize the standard formula of plenty of “talking head” interviews (George Romero, Simon Pegg, Walking Dead creator Robert Kirkman, Mel Brooks’ son/World War Z scribe Max Brooks, et al) alongside lots of film clips and the odd historical/epistemologial segment to give a pretty thorough overview of zombies in Western film, TV and pop culture.

I stress “Western,” since the filmmakers manage to completely bypass such admittedly rich zombie treasure troves as the Italian gore films of the ’70s and ’80s and any of the over-the-top Asian zombie films that have cropped up in the past decade or so.  While this would have, undoubtedly, broadened the focus of the film, I can’t help but feel that at least some mention of these other films would have been appropriate, if for no other reason than to point out how universal this particular horror trend has become in the past 40 years.

Foreign omissions notwithstanding, my biggest and most critical complaint regarding Doc of the Dead has to be all of the silly digressions, goofy skits and tongue-in-cheek stupidity that sits uncomfortably next to the more serious scholarship. I’m not claiming that all documentaries need to be serious or even that a zombie-themed documentary could ever be completely serious…we are talking about re-animated corpses, after all, so some measure of suspension of disbelief is required, no matter how you tackle the subject. I will firmly state, however, that the split-tone in Philippe’s film made it impossible for me to ever be completely on-board. For every cool story related by Romero or interesting observation (zombie cinema is one of the only horror genres to develop from folklore rather than literature, for example, which is pretty interesting, when you think about it), there’s a dumb segment involving amateur re-imaginings of Night of the Living Dead (1968), a zombie music video or silly interview with survivalists about the best weapons to use in case of a zombie attack.

The biggest problem with this tactic, quality of the goofy segments notwithstanding (and the quality really can be extraordinarily shabby, especially when compared to the relative polish of the rest of the film), is that it makes it seem as if the filmmakers don’t really care about their subject matter. This was the same team that put together The People vs George Lucas (2010), so they definitely have a reputation for irreverence, but the goofy tone just seems out-of-place most of the time. I found myself enjoying the “serious” parts of the film enough that I wanted more consistency but the inherently inconsistent nature of the film just made me tired and frustrated, by the end: I wanted more scholarship but the filmmakers wanted more “funny” scenes of badly made-up zombies stumbling around in domestic scenarios.

Ultimately, I didn’t hate Doc of the Dead: there’s too much good stuff here to completely write off the film. I just wish that Philippe and crew had been able to maintain a more consistent tone or, barring that, were able to craft something as humorous and entertaining as Mark Hartley’s Machete Maidens Unleashed (2010), which managed to be both scholarly and flat-out funny. Fans of zombies in film, TV and pop culture will find plenty to enjoy about Doc of the Dead (although most fanatics will have heard most of this stuff before) but the film is too lightweight to make much of an impact beyond the true believers…and the truly patient.

10/31/14 (Part One): Better Late Than Never

02 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by phillipkaragas in Uncategorized

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31 Days of Halloween, Asia Argento, auteur theory, Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead, Dead Reckoning, Dennis Hopper, Diary of the Dead, dystopian future, Eugene Clark, Fiddlers' Green, Film auteurs, George Romero, horror films, horror franchises, intelligent zombies, John Leguizamo, KNB Effects, Land of the Dead, Maxwell McCabe-Lokos, mercs, Night of the Living Dead, paramilitary groups, rich vs poor, Robert Joy, SImon Baker, social commentary, tanks, The Walking Dead, Tom Savini, writer-director, zombie films

land_of_the_dead_ver2_xlg

As the wait continued for the follow-up to “Forefather of the Dead” George Romero’s Day of the Dead (1985), longtime fans of his brand of socially-conscious zombie carnage probably weren’t remiss in feeling that this particular ship had already set sail into the sunset. After all, Day of the Dead’s production was notoriously compromised due to financial constraints (Romero’s original plan to continue expanding the world that he created with Dawn of the Dead (1978) was, effectively, shot in the head and downsized to a “handful of survivors in a bunker” storyline after it all proved prohibitively expensive) and Romero appeared to have little success in attracting investors for another entry. For all intents and purposes, it looked like Romero’s zombies had finally stopped kicking, even if his filmmaking career continued to chug along with non-zombie efforts like Monkey Shines (1988), The Dark Half (1993) and Bruiser (2000).

But, to paraphrase another master of the macabre, “over time, even death may die” and Romero’s “Dead” fans finally got their long-delayed wish when Land of the Dead (2005), the official follow-up to Day of the Dead, finally roared into multiplexes. For the first time in 20 years, Romero’s shambling gut-munchers were once again duking it out for box-office dinero, hoping to infect a new generation of horror audiences. Anytime someone waits twenty years for something, however, there’s an inherent danger of irrelevance: after all, there have been twenty years of zombie films between Day and Land. Would Romero still have the goods or would this be another sad example of a master craftsman set adrift, helpless against the ever-changing zeitgeist of our modern era? The answer, as it turns out, would be a hearty “yes,” followed by a quieter, slightly more hesitant “perhaps.”

Radio broadcasts and images of zombie mayhem over the opening credits give us a shorthand version of the events leading up to the “present day,” which appears to reside in a decidedly dystopic near-future: zombies have, effectively, taken over the world, although small bands of survivors still carve out rough existences in the burned-out cities that litter the landscape of what used to be America. The living dead have continued to “evolve,” in a manner of speaking, which we witness first-hand as we see zombies attempting to play instruments, pump gas and carry on rudimentary conversations with each other. One zombie in particular, a large gas station attendant (Eugene Clark), seems to have more intelligence than the average gut-muncher and appears to serve as defacto “leader” to the zombies, organizing them into a more cohesive “army.”

Our plucky protagonist, Riley (Simon Baker), is the leader of a paramilitary group that serves as the last line defense for one of the anonymous, ruined metropoli that jut up from the landscape like scorched bones. Along with the obnoxious, conniving Cholo (John Leguizamo), best friend Charlie (Robert Joy), Mouse (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) and the rest of the hardened former soldiers, Riley answers to the ultra-slimy Kaufman (Dennis Hopper), lord of the self-sustaining, high-rise paradise known as Fiddler’s Green. Fiddler’s Green, home to the city’s most wealthy and powerful, towers above the slums of the city like an unattainable Eden for the unwashed masses. While the poor and downtrodden carve out existences in a futuristic ghetto that makes Blade Runner (1982) look like Pasadena, the rich and powerful live it up in a combination skyscraper/shopping mall/luxury apartment complex that couldn’t be a more obvious metaphor if it wore a sign saying “Future zombie snacks.” The only thing standing between the 1% and the “walkers” are Riley, his troops and one badass tank known as Dead Reckoning.

While Riley hopes for a modest little piece of land somewhere relatively zombie-free, Cholo has much bigger ambitions: he wants to move into the Green and take his place with the hoity toity elements of society. After he’s doublecrossed by the odious Kaufman, however, Cholo steals Dead Reckoning and aims it right at Paradise: if Kaufman doesn’t pay up what he owes, Cholo will happily mulch the rich and famous with their own firepower…irony, thy name art Romero. Realizing that the only one who can stop Cholo is the guy who trained him, Kaufman enlists Riley and Charlie to return the tank to homebase and deliver the “traitor,” dead or alive. With the assistance of Slack (Asia Argento), a wannabe soldier who Riley rescues from one of the city’s zombie vs human cage matches, the trio are closer than ever to realizing their dream of getting the hell out of the city. All that stands between them is a former comrade, an indestructible weapon of war and a zombie army led by an undead “messiah” named Big Daddy. The stakes? Nothing less than the future of the entire human species.

With a budget almost five times that of Day of the Dead (albeit still “modest” by modern tent-pole standards) and a much bigger scope, it’s tempting to view Land of the Dead as the “proper” follow-up to the landmark Dawn of the Dead. While one could certainly make an argument for this (at the very least, Romero’s desire to fully realize his short-changed vision must have been the genesis for the project), it’s also pretty evident that Land of the Dead presents a natural progression from Day of the Dead, especially when one considers the continued “evolution” of the zombies. Bub may have learned to use a Walkman but the zombies in Land of the Dead can communicate with each other, use basic tools and weapons, strategize (on a basic level) and seem to experience basic human emotions, such as anger, sorrow and pride.

This, of course, has always been one of my main issues with Day of the Dead: the “humanization” of the zombies may dovetail nicely with Romero’s overarching themes of societal collapse and rebirth but it also has the (presumably unintended) effect of removing much of the inherent horror from the living dead: once the zombies start acting more and more like “us,” as it were, they cease to be monsters and begin the journey towards sympathetic characters. While this is still handled rather subtly in Land of the Dead (to a point), the scales tip completely by the time of Diary of the Dead (2007) and it’s pretty obvious that the zombies are now the “victims” while the humans are the “monsters.” While Land of the Dead’s finale is certainly thought-provoking, Riley’s ruminations on the possibility of a shared “promised land” for both human and zombie-kind put us on a much different philosophical plane than the apocalyptic climaxes to either Dawn or Day of the Dead.

None of this, by the way, is to argue for “dumber” zombie films: I’ve always felt that the social politics of Night of the Living Dead (1968) and Dawn of the Dead were one of the main reasons why those films will always be such complete and undeniable classics. There’s a delicate balance to be maintained, however, a balance that Romero appears to grow increasingly uninterested in as the franchise continues: perhaps the desire to make his films more than just “zombie films” fuels this although, to be honest, this is probably just the natural progression of his earlier films, albeit taken a bit far, at least for my personal tastes.

My biggest issue with Land of the Dead, ultimately, is that it ends up being a rather mediocre horror film, despite being an above-average action film. Romero has sacrificed most of the inherent chills and shocks of his first three zombie films in favor of rather repetitious “run and gun” scenes involving Riley’s mercs and the undead: we get treated to what seems an inordinate amount of rather cheap-looking action beats rather than horror setpieces like the inquisitive Hari Krishna or the semi-trailer fiasco from Dawn of the Dead. Land of the Dead is also a much different-looking film than either Dawn or Day: the zombie effects are all handled by KNB, rather than Tom Savini, which actually makes Land of the Dead a bit of a dry-run for the smash-hit TV show The Walking Dead. This is a minor quibble, obviously, since KNB’s designs are nothing to sneeze at, although discerning viewers will still notice the difference (KNB’s zombies are much more “technical” but Savini’s zombies always felt more “real” to me, strangely enough).

The one aspect where Land of the Dead vaults head and shoulders above its immediate predecessor, however, is the caliber of the acting. Quite frankly, Day of the Dead is still one of the most unpleasantly “shouty” films I’ve ever watched: every actor in that thing is pitching to the rafters and, at times, it feels more like a wrestling match than an actual film. Land of the Dead, by contrast, features some absolutely fine performances by the likes of Baker, Argento (Dario’s daughter) and Leguizamo, who I normally find to be excruciating yet who wear the role of Cholo like a spike-knuckled glove. I’ll admit that Robert Joy’s “idiot savant” role stretches credibility just a bit (he’s innocent, like a child, but also a crackshot sniper, like a plot device). Top of the class, however, is Hopper, like always, ruling the roost like some sort of megalomaniacal rooster. He’s predictably great, tossing off lines like “Zombies, man…they creep me out” with the joie de vivre that you expect from cinema’s favorite wild man. Even if everyone else in the movie stunk to high heaven, which they don’t, Hopper is still 1000% more charismatic than every actor in Day of the Dead combined.

Ultimately, Land of the Dead is what it is: a sequel that comes just about 20 years too late. While there’s an awful lot to like here and even some stuff to love (the bits involving the zombies’ fascination with fireworks are, to be honest, quite beautiful), this ends up being a pretty big step-down from Dawn of the Dead, despite being a better film, overall, than Day of the Dead (in my opinion, at least). As mentioned before, this is more of an action film than a horror film, for the most part, but it’s never anything less than watchable and, on occasion, has plenty of that old Romero moxie. This may not be Romero firing on all cylinders (by contrast, The Dark Half is a much, much better film) but I’ll take a “pretty-good” Romero zombie film over pretty much any other horror director’s fare any day of the week. Part of me will never stop wondering what might have happened if this had come a mere 5-10 years after Day of the Dead, however, instead of 20.

 

8/16/14: …And Good Riddance

08 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by phillipkaragas in Uncategorized

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Adrian Grenier, bad films, bad soldiers, Ben McKenzie, Caroline Dhavernas, co-writers, college friends, cyber-terrorism, Denis Hennelly, end of the world, Gaby Hoffmann, Goodbye World, Kerry Bishe, Laura Kachergus, Linc Hand, Mark Webber, McKenna Grace, nostalgia, post-Apocalyptic, power grid, Remy Nozik, Scott Mescudi, terrible films, The Big Chill, The Walking Dead, writer-director

goodbye_world_xlg

If you think about it, small-scale, low-budget post-apocalyptic films should be one of the easiest types of movies to pull off. After all, the various elements are practically codified, at this point: get a small batch of varied survivors together, preferably in a small, claustrophobic space and give them something to worry about outside the “safety” of their enclosure (nuclear fallout, zombies, biological terrorism, other humans, mutant animals, yadda yadda). Let the various survivors form groups and factions, then have them fight with each other for survival and/or supremacy. Throw in a few “surprise” romances, some “shocking” betrayals and a few morsels about how humanity tends to devolve into animalistic chaos at the first sign of societal upheaval et voila: you have yourself a decent little post-apocalyptic thriller/chiller/downer.

When done competently, these type of films can be dependable, if unspectacular, exercises, similar to competently made found-footage films: nothing amazing but decent enough to watch and, at the very least, marginally entertaining. When done exceptionally well, however, post-apocalyptic “survival” films can be quite special little affairs: recent efforts like It’s a Disaster (2012), This is the End (2013) and Rapture-Palooza (2013) have tackled the apocalypse from a humorous angle, while dead-serious efforts like Time of the Wolf (2003), The Road (2009), The Divide (2012) and The Colony (2013) tend to dwell on the more miserable side of surviving the end times. Let’s not forget zombies (Dawn of the Dead (1978), Night of the Comet (1984)), environmental issues (12 Monkeys (1995), Take Shelter (2011), Hell (2011)) and relationship travails (Melancholia (2011), Seeking a Friend For the End of the World (2012)), all of which make for great apocalyptic fodder. As I’ve pointed out, you can make a good (or great) post-apocalyptic survival flick out of just about anything: the sky, literally, is the limit.

With all of that being said, however, writer-director Denis Hennelly’s Goodbye World (2013) is that other kind of post-apocalyptic survival film: the shitty kind. Without putting too fine a point on it, Hennelly’s film is almost complete and total garbage, a perfect trifecta of bad acting, obnoxious characters, a terrible script, tonal inconsistencies out the wazoo and a laughable resolution that’s so trite that it’s actually kind of insulting. If anything, Goodbye World comes across as a brain-dead, post-apocalyptic The Big Chill (1983), a bizarro-world version of The Walking Dead that replaces the zombies with annoying former college roommates and power-tripping wannabe-military tough guys. This, friends and neighbors, is the living definition of a film that I saw so that you don’t have to…you can thank me later.

In short order, we’re introduced to our rather large and unwieldy cast of clichés: James (Adrian Grenier), Lily (Kerry Bishe) and daughter, Hannah (McKenna Grace) are the “eco-friendly” family that lives off the grid; Benji (Mark Webber) and girlfriend, Ariel (Remy Nozik) are the “revolutionaries” who want to bring down the system; Lev (Scott Mescudi) is the (apparently) mildly autistic computer genius whose botched suicide attempt kicks off the destruction of the world’s power grid; Nick (Ben McKenzie) is James and Lily’s former business partner (and Lily’s former lover) who’s brought his new girlfriend, Becky (Caroline Dhavernas) and Laura (Gabby Hoffmann) is the form college friend who hates Becky with a passion.

These idiots all descend on James and Lily’s farm after an apparent cyber-attack has destroyed the world’s power grid: lights, phones, gas pumps and ATMs no longer work, which would be bad enough, but the loss of modern accouterments has an even more dire effect: it forces these ninnies to reexamine their old relationships, friendships and arguments, all while trapped together on an out-of-the-way farm. Since this is a modern post-apocalyptic survival film, we know that we can’t trust any kind of authority, especially from the armed forces. When a couple of sinister supposed National Guardsmen show up and want to bunker down at the group’s homestead, James and his gang show them the door, post-haste. If you can guess that we haven’t seen the last of the military guys…well, maybe you should have written the script, then, smarty-pants.

Look, here’s the thing: I can couch this in as many (or as few) niceties as possible but the bottom-line is pretty black-and-white: Goodbye World is an awful film. If one could somehow look past the thoroughly unlikable characters (in particular, Lily is one of the shittiest, most obnoxious, horrible characters I’ve managed to get stuck with in some 30 years of watching movies…and she only gets WORSE when combined with her old flame, Nick) and more miss-than-hit acting, you’re still stuck with a real donkey of a script. This is the kind of film that pulls one of those hoary old “talent show” scenes out of a moldy top hat and pretends that it’s some kind of narrative revelation: rarely have I wanted to claw my eyes out more than when Gabby Hoffmann waxes philosophic about playing George Washington in historical re-enactments.

Not only is there nothing original to be found here but the filmmakers manage to mess up even the most basic post-apocalyptic survival film beats: it’s like trying to make an omelet with Cheese Whiz, straw and roofing shingles. It’s pretty much a given that the film displays a distressingly low-level of tension (think a slightly “edgier” Afterschool Special) but it also manages to do away with anything that might offer the slightest bit of pleasure or entertainment factor for the audience. I’ve watched plenty of films where I thought, “Hmm…this is pretty awful, except for ________.” Goodbye World is the rare film where I was at a complete loss to fill in the blank: what actually worked here? As a point of comparison, Kevin Costner’s The Postman (1997) has seemed to occupy the pole position as far as universally derided post-apocalyptic movies go for almost two decades now: in this instance, The Postman comes off like The Godfather (1972) compared to Hennelly’s “opus.”

By the time the film works its way to a “resolution” that manages to not only pair up most of the characters but give them weepy “emotional” scenes to boot, I was way beyond through with this bit of foolishness. My favorite low point? The ridiculously hokey “Daily Bubble” routine between James, Lily and Hannah that’s somehow inflated to become a societal metaphor by the film’s final scene. Here’s the thing, though: if we get to the end of the world and we need to rely on this cast of characters for salvation…well…just take my word for it and stick a fork in the Earth. When given the choice between perishing or starting a new world with these idiots, I’ll take the dirt-nap any day of the week.

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