As loyal Vault dwellers, you might be aware that one of--if not the film that transformed me into a died-in-the-wool horror fanatic was the late Dan O'Bannon's masterpiece, The Return of the Living Dead. From when I first experienced it at age 12, I was enthralled by it, and the fascination has only increased with time. It's a fantastic horror comedy for so many reasons, but I've been through that many times before. The bottom line is, it's a film that means a whole lot to me (and no, not just because of Linnea Quigley as Trash...)
You may also be somewhat familiar with the vintagely fantastic Avon Theatre of Stamford, Connecticut, which I have occasionally big-upped on this very blog, whether it be to help spread the word about some really cool screenings they were having, or to report on a great time I had at one of those screenings. The Avon has a Cult Classics series, for example, that has long been a source of unmitigated joy in my life. And now, I'm proud to say that I'm going to be a part of the Avon's Cult Classics series, and in particular, they're upcoming showing of ROTLD. In short, it gets no better than this.
Basically, the Avon will be screening ROTLD on Thursday night, October 21, to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the film's release. It will also be showing alongside an unrevealed second feature. Now, I've been sworn to secrecy as to what it is--but rest assured, it will not disappoint. And I'm proud to say that both myself and the lovely Captain Cruella of the Carnivorous Cadavers will be hosting this screening. Now if that won't get you down to the theater, than dammit people, I don't know what will...
I'll have the privilege of introducing both films, and well, the good Captain will be providing zombie ambience as only she can. In fact, I can thank her and her mysterious undead powers for helping to finally get the Avon and the Vault together in the first place. This place is a local treasure, and it is literally a dream come true to be able to join in on the fun.
In addition to introducing one of the films crucial to my development as a horror fan, Cruella and I will also be giving away passes to one hell of a horror film festival on the horizon, the Hudson Horror Show. The festival's organizer, Chris Alo, will even be on hand to promote the event, lighting up Poughkeepsie, New York on November 6 (more on the Hudson Horror Show to come next week here in the Vault...)
So if you're in the area, I urge you to make your way to the Avon Theatre on October 21 for this screening of one of the most beloved horror films of them all. It is sure to be a blast. Not only that, but keep an eye out for future Cult Classics screenings at the Avon, as the theater's director of business development and film programming, Adam Birnbaum, has extended an invitation to yours truly to not only host more of the Avon's horror screenings, but to actually take part in their selection. So fasten your seat belts, Connecticut horror fans--things are about to get interesting...
It says a lot about the popularity of this week's sub-genre, that this time out we've got more contributors than ever before. Zombies are arguably the dominant monster of modern horror, and certainly have been on a proverbial tear for much of the past decade especially. Today's horror fan is almost inevitably a hardcore zombie fan--we just can't seem to get enough of those mindless, flesh-eating, undead meatheads.
It always says a lot about the breadth and quality of the sub-genre, that with so many contributors this week, nevertheless not one of them selected the same movie. We've got a pretty impressive selection here, if I do say so myself, hope you enjoy...
B-Sol on Dawn of the Dead (1978)
Surprisingly to me as I look back, I haven't really said all that much about George Romero's Dawn of the Dead here in the Vault over the years, despite the fact that it is not only my personal favorite zombie movie, but my personal favorite horror movie, period. Maybe I've been intimidated by what a towering presence this movie is for me, how it affected me like no other horror film has before or since.
Romero certainly knocked it out of the park with Night of the Living Dead, but here he truly brings his bleak vision of America to full fruition, and gives us the absolute prototype of the modern zombie film. The waking nightmare he creates as the setting for this film is so convincing to me, so authentic, despite whatever you may say about dated makeup effects. When I watch this movie, I am transported wholly to a world in which the dead have risen and society is crumbling. The aura of doom hangs heavy, and even the humorous bits are tinged with rueful regret.
Zombies have terrified me more than any other movie monster, and this film is to blame. I am a purist when it comes to Romero zombies, and this whole idea of relentless, creeping corpses coming to eat your flesh, ignoring all boundaries of friendship and family, beyond all reason or escape, really struck a chord with me, and filled me with genuine dread. That's powerful film-making, and that's what modern zombie cinema is all about.
One of my favourite zombie films --no, scrub that, one of my favourite films ever--Dellamorte Dellamore (Cemetery Man) is a quirky little masterpiece, a film which takes the idea of the living dead in a sublime new direction. Francis Dellamorte (Rupert Everett) is the Buffalore Cemetery caretaker or, as one of his imminent inmates calls it, the ‘engineer’, but this is a cemetery with a difference. Sometimes the dead rise from their graves, and together with assistant Gnaghi (François Hadji-Lazaro) Dellamorte must re-dispatch them. It’s a troubled, lonely existence, and both men are looking for an indeterminate something--maybe even love--beyond the cemetery walls. When a beautiful widow (Anna Falchi) arrives to mourn her husband, Dellamorte cannot resist her charms, and is soon drawn into a chain of events which leads him to reconsider love, life, the universe and everything…
I first saw the film at a Halloween showing and, apart from vaguely being aware that it was a zombie flick, I knew nothing about it. If I was expecting hordes of potentially politically-relevant flesheaters, instead I got a striking small-town setting, a taphophile’s dream of graves, burials and mourning, and of course vivid atmosphere in spades (pun intended). A charismatic performance by Everett really underpins this film, and he deadpans through an often bizarre array of scenes and dialogue with an inimitably brooding gravitas. The original choice for this role, Matt Dillon, simply could not have done it better. It adds a pleasing circularity to the project that Everett was the inspiration behind the Dylan Dog comics, which in turn inspired the screenplay: Dellamorte Dellamore is as inescapable for Everett as Buffalore is for Francis Dellamorte, it seems…
The cast all work nicely together, balancing pathos alongside slick dark comedy, with the beautiful Anna Falchi perhaps deserving a special mention for her performance as the unnamed ‘she’ of the film. Although she appears in three different incarnations, she is most memorable in her first, that of The Widow--changing from vulnerable mourner into an insatiable Returner, a zombie you wouldn’t mind being bitten by. But then, as the film progresses, the undead aren’t the problem in and of themselves. They become symbolic of the inescapability of Dellamorte’s life and his growing identity crisis. It would be pushing it to say that this film is a philosophical work, I know, but it definitely uses horror in order to feel around some unusually existentialist themes. Dellamorte holds forth on the problems of love, the meaning of life, and self-knowledge, so the film’s original title (translating as ‘of Death, of Love’) really holds some meaning here. Unique, hypnotic and cool, Dellamorte Dellamore has a special place in my heart.
There's not much to be said about Night of the Living Dead that hasn't already been spoken. But when it came time to choose a favorite zombie film, I couldn't find myself considering anything other than it or its sequel, Dawn of the Dead. That's a choice I've waffled on many times, but today I'm sold on Night of the Living Dead as my final answer.
Night of the Living Dead is more than a movie, it's an institution. It's literally the most accessible horror film of the past 50 years--thanks to its slip into the public domain--and it's become something of a “starter” film for anyone who wants to experience what horror movies are all about. As horror was peaking in pop culture during the 1970s, it was Night of the Living Dead that became the syndicated TV hit that every late night horror host was showing to impressionable youth. When home video, and later DVD, became popular, any distributor that could find it released their own copy of the film. At least 40 different versions of the film exist between these two types of home media today, and the first Blu-Ray versions of the film are rolling out as we speak.
But to me, this is more than just one of those films that should be lauded because of how beloved it has become. One could also argue that Night of the Living Dead was a turning point for the horror genre, as it was one of the first films to turn everyday people--in this case dead people--into monsters, and then bring these monsters into modern America. And, without ever using the “zed word”, George Romero's approach to creating horror set the stage for an entire sub-genre and a new movement in independent horror film-making.
I could ramble about the significance, in culture and to the film community, of Night of the Living Dead all night long. And when I account for the film's effect on the viewer--in this case, a guy that's still creeped out by the uncertainty the characters face and the impending sense of doom that haunts the film--and the fact that the black-and-white film just feels like what I'd look for from any late night horror viewing, there's no topping Romero's first triumph in my book.
Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II is one of those films that I can revisit over and over and over again, and then one more time for good measure. While most people wouldn't think of this as an outright zombie film due to its blending of several genre elements, the finale does involve a zombie ripping through the torso of a recently shot victim in order to massacre the senior class on prom night.
The film has an ability to cleverly recycle staples from genre classics into one cohesive, seamless whole. It borrows elements from George A. Romero's zombie films and from Carrie, contains a dream sequence that recalls A Nightmare on Elm Street with a dash of German Impressionism set in a high school cafeteria and features a kooky take on possession themes, all set against the backdrop of a teen comedy/horror film.
As if that wasn't enough, you have genre regular Michael Ironside in the cast, and some inventive--not to mention mean-spirited--death sequences. One victim informs her best friend that she is pregnant, only to be hanged to death by the film's title villain, who makes it appear as a suicide. There is also a sequence in which another victim is smashed to death by her high school gym lockers, and yet another involving death by computer. To top it all off, it also boasts some well-timed one liners and some memorable dialogue. Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II is a film that I never get tired of despite repeat viewings. It also ranks in my top 10 horror films of the '80s.
Vault dweller Angela Howeth on The Return of the Living Dead
I had to go back to my own childhood on this one. Of course I completely love and adore the originals such as Night of the Living Dead, and the not-so-original such as Zombi 2, but honestly I had to go here. I remember going to a sleep over when I was in the 4th grade and watching this movie for the first time. While my girlfriends where all busy talking about boys, and New Kids on the Block, I was completely enamored with this movie. I thought to myself, “Oh this is completely utterly disgustingly perfect.” It had everything--punk rock, a dysfunctional and irresponsible government, and of course terrifying gruesome zombies.
I think the cross between the movie soundtrack and the actual sound of the zombies was creepy enough. Am I the only one who thought some of the zombies sounded like pigs being slaughtered as they were being reborn from their graves? For me sound has a ton to do with it, and these zombies where not meek at all. Not only did they do their normal zombie moan from hell, but they also spoke of the pain of WANTING AND NEEDING BRAINS!!!! This ties directly to that scene in the morgue with the half woman tied down on the gurney. This scene terrified me; it was human in the sense of something that needed substance in order to feel good to live. But yet she wasn’t living, she was dead, and still she yearned so greatly for our soft spongy brains--with no legs, no skin, no organs left besides half her spinal column, her eyes and her brain. It is stuff that nightmares are truly made of.
Another favorite scene in the movie is the one in which Linnea Quigley's Trash character gets mauled by the zombies. Imagine yourself being naked in nuclear rain; and getting caught in a mosh pit of zombies; yeah, no good. That and she kind of resembles Ronald McDonald's step-sister. This movie just holds a happy place in my childhood, as odd as it sounds, I will never get the picture out of my head of the zombie popping out of the grave: “Do you want to party!” Return of the Living Dead is one of those movies that I can watch and keep finding more stuff to laugh or be terrified about.
My love affair with zombies started out a lot like everyone else's, I suspect. It was a double feature sleep over with Evil Dead 2 and Dawn of the Dead that kicked the whole thing off. Dawn of the Dead gave license to my imagination to run wild in a world overrun with the dead where the only responsibility was survival, which in a world of abundant shopping mall resources, guns and ammo included, looked like an awful lot of fun, even when the bikers raid the place. This was a fantasy dreamed up when I was a kid. I'm an adult now and the rational adult mind tends to over think things, so the fantasy is a lot less fun these days because I have the context of maturity to compare the horror of the apocalypse to. Naturally, the care-free fantasy of Dawn of the Dead became something much more pessimistic and opened the door for Day of the Dead to make its way into my consciousness and take the number one spot for favorite zombie movie.
It's a well explored notion that Romero's classic zombie movies reflect the era of their production so it's no surprise that Day of the Dead is one giant metaphor for America in the '80s. That's not exactly why I like it, though. Day of the Dead was the culmination of Romero's efforts. The original script, which is available for reading online, is a much bigger movie that Romero has since incorporated into other movies, but what we got still comes off like the culmination of all of Romero's previous efforts. Day's scope, though actually very small, feels huge!
The whole thing takes place in this cavernous missile base with a large cast of cackling evil military guys and the scientists that they're supposed to protect. Heading it up is Joe Pilato as the maniacal Captain Rhodes, constantly sporting a sheen of nervous sweat, ranting and raving, pointing his gun at anyone who questions his authority. He has some of the best lines and gives the best deliveries of any Romero zombie survivor. On the other end is Richard Liberty as the insane Dr. Logan, conditioning his zombie, Bub (Logan and Bub are references to Wolverine of the X-Men) and dissecting captive zombies down to their component pieces. It's a colorful cast of wild, shouting characters working with one of Romero's slowest, yet most frantic zombie scripts. Sure, there's a lot of talking--the usual point of criticism leveled at this flick--but they're great streaks of Rhodes' wild freak-outs!
Characters aside, Day was the ultimate experiment in special effects for the time. They're completely disgusting. Tom Savini's express makeup for large groups was coupled with the high detail and realism of Greg Nicotero's techniques to create some of the nastiest zombies ever put on film. To this day, it remains unchallenged, even by further explorations of zombies by Romero himself.
Day may not be a taut thriller with constant action, but for my money, it's the most sophisticated of all of Romero's movies, with the best special effects, most colorful characters and most morbid, oppressive tone that expertly communicates the hopelessness of possibly being the last living humans on Earth. I revisit this one far more than any other in the canon.
I’ve always found answering the question ‘what’s your favourite zombie film?’ both difficult and easy. Difficult, in that I’ve not actually seen that many zombie films, in comparison to your average horror fan, anyway; and easy, in that I’ve got fewer films to pick from! Zombies are not my favourite sub-genre, and yet, they’re everywhere. They seem to be the horror film-maker’s choice for getting a point across, particularly when it comes to making a comment on the homogeneity of society. My choice of film, then, stands out, in that it has nothing at all to do with the homogeneity of society, and everything to do with the individual.
My favourite zombie film is Colin. The film is famous for being made on a shoe-string budget of roughly £45 ($70), and yet it’s reached world-wide audiences and critical acclaim. Directed by Marc Price, the film follows the titular zombie, from his brief moments before being bitten, to his slow, arduous transformation into one of the mass of living dead shuffling through London’s streets. Coming at the tail-end of a rash of fast zombies (if they’re zombies at all!), Colin is a wonderful breath of fresh air, a film which, for all of its impressively realised gore and action, is an emotional, human journey.
Part of that success belongs to Alistair Kirton, who plays Colin as both lost child and cornered animal to great effect. Some of the film’s most memorable scenes take place in complete silence, not in the abandoned streets of the city or in the middle of a zombie horde, but in the heart of the home--the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom. No £45 film is going to perfect, but with Colin, Marc Price has made a damn impressive try of it.
The film’s greatest success, for me, is that it’s a zombie film that made me care about its protagonist. I don’t often find myself all that bothered about what happens to characters in zombie films, but I do care for Colin. Marc Price successfully made a zombie film, with a zombie protagonist, which tells a simple, human story. Not very horrific, I know, but it certainly makes the film stand out from a very crowded sub-genre. Besides, that bit with the spine? Definitely gross.
Italy was by no means a stranger to the walking dead. With rejuvenated stiffs committing such foul acts as shoving splinters in pupils and attacking people as they performed top-hat dance routines, Italian filmmakers were squeezing the genre dry of every last putrefied drop. So what, you may ask, makes Burial Ground so different from the rest of the flesh-hungry pack? I believe my appreciation for this film might have stemmed from my complete surprise on its initial viewing, as I think it would with most. Up until the point I saw Andrea Bianchi’s mini-epic, I smugly thought that I had just about seen everything zombies had to offer. Little did I realize all the wonderful surprises that were in store for me, whether they were subtle contrasts or bits of in-your-face grandness.
The look of the zombies in Burial Ground was one of the very first elements to register with me. Never before, not even with Fulci’s conquistador throat-munchers, did I see zombies who were actually terrifying to look at. The majority of them here have deaths-head type visages, their skeletal teeth and empty sockets seeming to sneer at you as they greedily reach for your skin. They’re a true army of the dead, fully capable of wielding weapons (!) in order to get at the food they crave so madly. A particularly spectacular sequence occurs when one zombie, with Bullseye-like precision, throws a nail across a garden and pins a maid’s hand to the wall just as she’s going to close a window! His cohorts then use a deliciously symbolic scythe to painfully saw the screaming wench’s head off and then eagerly scuttle around as the cranium comes a-tumblin’ down! That scene alone was enough for me to realize that this one was not the typical zombie fare.
The entire movie is filled with a very real sense of dread. The psychotropic score constantly has you at unease as the dead stiffly stalk around the house of survivors. This is the type of feeling every zombie film should have, that of ultimate doom and utter defeat at the claws of the souls we thought we held dominion over. As silly as it may seem, as I watched the movie, eyes open wide inside the cozy den of my home, I almost felt as if this is what the Apocalypse would truly look like. The dead returned to consume the living, never stopping or ceasing their motions. Terrifying stuff. Add to that the oddly surreal bits that are sprinkled throughout the film and you have one unique viewing experience. Case in point: Peter Bark, a twenty something man who plays the part of a ten-year-old child. One of the most awkward-glances-all-around moments in film history occurs when Peter passionately begs his mother for a very personal type of night cap. You haven’t seen it all until you’ve seen that.
Burial Ground is likely to be passed over by most fans as another in a long, long line of zombie flicks to be released from Italy during the first living dead boom in cinema. But if you look closely enough and if you’re appetite is whetted enough for some different and grueling zombie action, you’ll find that this cloth does not just smell of death… it smells of awesomeness.
Shaun may be a little irresponsible, a slacker, and own some embarrassing vinyl albums... but who would think of a cricket bat to defend yourself in the zombie apocalypse? The rest of his crew took typical items like golf clubs, axes, shovels, baseball bats, you know... phallic objects. It may be an English thing, but the cricket bat is probably the coolest undead destroying instrument since the boomstick.
Think of it this way, Shaun is like every Average Joe you meet on the street. He's just like you! It's always a nice thought that you don't need to be this rough and tumble guy to survive. All you need is some passion and a good weapon. The reason Shaun of the Dead is such an appealing film to all audiences, is because the zombie outbreak closely resembles what the outbreak would most likely really be like. In a world of chaos and rotting corpses, Shaun and his friends decide to stick it out and survive while still maintaining their personalities. All too often in zombie films, people lose who they really are once the outbreak begins. It's about survival yes, but it's also about not losing who you are.
The true heart of the entire film is centered on Shaun. Shaun is a great zombie killer because he's not only thinking about himself. It's very easy to become selfish in a time of crisis and only care about keeping yourself alive. While this is a nice plan for an individual, its a disastrous plan for those who actually have a heart. Shaun had been completely neglecting those who care the most about him, but when put in the situation where he's almost expected and allowed to be selfish... he's not. He works to keep not just himself afloat, but his mother, ex-girlfriend, her flatmates, his best friend, and for a while even his hated step-father. He risked his life traveling from his house to his mother's house, and then even climbed up a building to save his ex-girlfriend and her flatmates. That's the true act of a hero if you're asking me.
So basically, he's not some uber badass who knows exactly what to do, he's just someone who's probably grown up watching the uber badasses who know exactly what to do. He's thrust into this situation, and while he's hesitant at first, he almost comes to terms with it and realizes what needs to be done to try and survive. So off he goes to secure his loved ones and hold down in the safest place he can think of. It may not all work out, but he at least does something instead of sit and panic. Shaun of the Dead is a perfect of example of how middle America would handle the zombie crisis.
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Now head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc Patterson and his crew have come up with. And if you're interested in taking part in the last two installments, just give Marc or myself a holler.
This week in The Lucky 13, we take a look at one of my personal favorite sub-categories, the horror comedy. There's just something about horror in general that will often provoke a perversely humorous response in us, sometimes even when not intended. Maybe that's why it's so much fun when a horror film overtly embraces the humor that seems paradoxically inherent in the genre.
There are countless great horror comedies worth remembering , and I'd just like to tip my hat to several that have not been represented either here or at Brutal as Hell--gems like Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein, An American Werewolf in London and Shaun of the Dead. So many great ones to choose from, but here's a look at our personal favorites...
B-Sol on The Return of the Living Dead
Believe it or not, the film that truly sparked my lifelong fascination with the horror genre was ROTLD. It was the first modern horror film I had ever watched from beginning to end, and as I watched it unfold, I was filled with a combination of revulsion and fascination.
Like most pre-teen boys, I suffered from an acute lack of irony, which naturally led me to take the film quite seriously as pure horror. Almost all the comedy was totally lost on me, which makes it all the more fun to watch it now and be able to laugh instead of shiver. It's amazing how much I didn't appreciate back then.
For me, The Return of the Living Dead was a gateway movie, opening the door to so much more. My next stop was the Evil Dead flicks; then came George Romero; and the rest, as they say, is history. Funny how I saw ROTLD before even having seen the Romero movies they were partially spoofing. It's also pretty amazing to think that a movie that easily could've been a throw-away '80s shlockfest merely aping great horror films has come to be considered a great horror film in its own right, even worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as Romero's series.
Marilyn Merlot on Zombieland
So I have to admit when I first saw the preview for Zombieland, I wasn’t much of a fan, and already had decided I wouldn’t see it. I was never into spoofs of horror or horror movies trying to be comedies. Then I started to hear good reviews, and people saying how they really liked it. Now my interest was piqued. And in the end, it really was a perfect mix. Firstly, it had a great cast of characters, which is really what made the movie. A tough/bad ass guy; the nerd just trying to survive; and a pretty girl with edge to her.
What makes you laugh right from the beginning are the zombie rules you need to go by to survive. Those of us who have watched endless zombie movies know these really are important rules. Soon Columbus, played by Jesse Eisenberg, meets up with Tallahassee, played by Woody Harrelson. These two embark on a road journey, meeting up with two sisters, Witchita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin). The group sets out together to try and survive the zombie holocaust. The ensuing hijinks include a notorious overnight stay at the Hollywood home of Bill Murray.
The whole thing winds up in an amusement park, which is the perfect setting to show off both the action and the humor that make the movie work so well. Columbus and Tallahassee's rescue attempt of Wichita and Little Rock is both very exciting and hysterically funny. By the end of the film, all these different characters come together as a dysfunctional family, Tallahassee finally gets his twinkie, and everyone hits the road together…
It was within the darkened den of my uncle’s California house that I was first exposed to this film. The glow from the television set illuminated my terrified face. But no matter how great my fear was, I couldn’t keep my eyes from the screen. I jumped like a startled cat when the rotting hand of a corpse jutted from a grave. I shrunk back in terror as a pair of beastly eyes stared out from the darkness of a crate. I got goose bumps as I imagined an army of carnivorous cockroaches crawling up and down my arms. Despite all these feelings of anxiety and shivering fright, I couldn’t deny one thing… I was having an incredibly fun time.
The beauty of Creepshow lies in its ability to illicit both screams and laughs from the viewer’s mouth. In my belief it stands as a true definition of the term “horror comedy”; it contains terrifying scenes that genuinely scare you, but the entire time you sense that the film’s tongue is firmly planted in its rotting cheek. It’s gallows humor with the highest quality noose. You may squirm at the sight of a stinking cadaver trudging through a misty graveyard, but then you’re tickled pink the moment it opens its skeletal mouth and gurgles “I want my CAAAKE!” I’m giggling just reminiscing about it.
Creepshow is a work of deep-rooted love for the genre, a valentine to horror fans and readers of the four-color terrors of yesteryear. The set design and lighting, with its garish reds and blues, gives this awesome anthology the authentic feel of an issue from E.C. Comics taken straight from the newsstands of the 1950s. It includes all the common stories that used to adorn those pages: ironic vengeance from six feet under, evil doers getting their just desserts in the form of their greatest fears, and Adrienne Barbeau getting her bitch face munched off by a furry crate critter! The film also has a dream team of horror luminaries working behind it. George Romero directs the ghastly proceedings, Stephen King provides the highly entertaining tales (and a lunkheaded performance as a mutated farmer), and Tom Savini showcases some of his best makeup work, with reanimated corpses and cuddly monsters.
As the years go by, my respect and love for this film increases with every viewing. I can sit down and watch it, no matter what the time or occasion. It’s as infectious as a zombie bite, its demented glee spreading to the dark cockles of one’s heart almost as quickly as Jordy Verill’s unfortunate gardening problem. From the unforgettable opening piano score to the last frame of revenge by voodoo’s pin, you’ll feel like you’ve finally come home to the ghoulish hilarity that’s escaped you for so long. After all, it’s the most fun you’ll have being scared!
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Head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc Patterson and his crew have come up with. And if you're interested in taking part in the future, just give Marc or myself a holler.
"A writer can't scare a reader unless that writer scares himself or herself first. So, you can't excite anyone in the audience unless you're excited writing the script! You're taking yourself for a ride before you take the audience for a ride!"
If you're not instantly familiar with the name Dan O'Bannon, you should be. This is the man who wrote Alien--not just a great sci-fi/horror film, but the sci-fi/horror film. This is the man who wrote and directed The Return of the Living Dead, not just a great horror comedy, but the horror comedy. The same man is responsible for both of these absolutely pivotal movies/franchises. Oh yeah, and he also wrote the scripts for Lifeforce and Total Recall, just in case his resume needed a little extra boosting.
And now, the man who did all those things is no longer with us, having passed away last night after a short illness at the sadly young age of 63.
From a personal perspective, I can tell you that were it not for ROTLD, I very well might not be the horror fanatic I am today. As a kid, I already had a solid grounding in Universal and Hammer, but it was O'Bannon's brilliant zombie comedy that put me over the top as an obsessed lifelong fan of the macabre. Without Dan O'Bannon, there might very well have been no Vault of Horror. Less than a fraction of a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme of things, to be sure--but I thank him for that.
O'Bannon had a somewhat sparse career, but what he chose to be associated with over the years is so impressive. Definitely a case of quality over quantity. He went to USC with none other than John Carpenter, collaborating with him on both of their debuts, the sci-fi comedy Dark Star (1974). He was on board for the earliest days of George Lucas' Industrial Light & Magic--you know those computer-generated Death Star blueprints, and the stop-motion game pieces Chewie & R2 use in Star Wars? Yeah, he worked on that.
He was also a writer of science fiction and horror in print as well as film, contributing occasionally to the landmark illustrated magazine Heavy Metal. In fact, two of his stories were adapted in the 1981 Heavy Metal movie, including the one about zombie pilots in World War II (figures!). In the '70s, he was attached as a writer to one of the most legendary cinematic missed opportunities, Alejandro Jodorowsky's adaptation of Dune. Although the project never happened, it did acquaint O'Bannon with H.R. Giger, the man who would design the title character of his most famous script.
What came out of the failed Dune for O'Bannon was the chance to script what would become Ridley Scott's masterpiece, Alien. So I guess we can't be too disappointed. You don't need me to tell you what a brilliant screenplay O'Bannon crafted for that picture, one whose influence continues to be felt to this day. He took the established haunted house/slasher motifs, and bonded them to a sci-fi template in a way no one had before. The closest prior comparison might be Forbidden Planet, but that was obviously pre-slasher. In the wake of Star Wars, he showed us the darker, grimmer side of sci-fi.
Nor do you need me to tell you what a minor miracle he pulled off with ROTLD. A movie called The Return of the Living Dead, based on a half-cocked attempt by John Russo to capitalize on the cult popularity of his previous work with George Romero, had no right whatsoever to be any good at all. Yet once O'Bannon took over, in his one great directorial turn, he transformed it into what I can say in all confidence is a terrific piece of film-making, justly revered among genre fans, but worth a look for any lover of film. It's a solid piece of work that gets better every time I watch it. Hell, it was so good it totally overshadowed Romero's own Day of the Dead, which came out at the same time!
So I'll be remembering Dan O'Bannon today, one of the key people who made me the fan I am. I hope you will, too.
Two years ago today, I sat in a cubicle at a dreary former job and decided to write about stuff that I actually enjoy. Thus was born The Vault of Horror, and now, to celebrate the second anniversary, I've recorded my first-ever solo "DVD commentary", on the movie that started it all for me as a horror fanatic--Dan O'Bannon's The Return of the Living Dead.
I hope you enjoy listening, whether below, on the Vaultcast site, or via download. I also hope you've enjoyed the past two years, as I've tried my best to make the Vault the best damn horror blog out there. Here's to many more years!
If any of you were operating under the misguided notion that this was a family blog, prepare to have your notions torn asunder after listening to my most... unorthodox interview with a very unorthodox lady, the one and only Jewel Shepard, known to most fans as Casey ("Fuck off and die!") from Return of the Living Dead. Jewel is certainly one of a kind, and this is one Vaultcast you don't want to miss!
Listen in rapt attention as an awkwardly giggling B-Sol shoots the shit with Ms. Shepard about naked grocery shopping, stripping for Dan O'Bannon, and her sapphic Facebook exploits. Oh yeah, we also talked about our mutual need to escape Brooklyn, being offered the part of Trash (!), and her fan mail correspondence with the Unabomber. So take a listen below, won't you? Or, if you'd prefer to listen later, download it at the Vaulcast page!
When you're done, be sure to check out Jewel's very interesting YouTube page!
Hey there Vault Dwellers! It's BJ-C of Day of the Woman here with some great news B-Sol just informed me of. Normally he'd be delighted to post it himself, but he's doing the whole responsible parent thing and taking care of Skeleton Jack at the arcade. So I am here to deliver the good news! I'm like the Angel Gabriel....but not.
One of B-Sol's readers got him in touch with Jewel Shepard (aka blue haired Mohawk punk from Return of the Living Dead)on Facebook. From what he's told me, she was super cool and agreed to do an interview with him on Monday.
SCORE.
I did some Facebook creeping myself and let me tell you, mama aged VERY nicely. She is a straight up FOX. B-Sol whole heartedly agrees :) Which is ironic concidering his infatuation with Linnea Quigley...I'm sure she'll forgive him.
I considered writing yet another deep, philosophical diatribe on one topic or another tonight. But you know what, I'm one lazy blogger right about now. And so, inspired by BJ-C's creative slacking off over at DotW, I've decided instead to share with you the finest moment in the history of cinema.
As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by total exhaustion and gainful employment, I got exposed to a lot of frightening stuff on TV as a kid that helped pave the way for my lifetime horror obsession. Why TV, you ask? Mainly because I was too young to be taken to see horror movies in the theater. But since daytime TV in those days was fairly polluted with old horror flicks, that didn't mean I never saw theatrical films, too.
Case in point: The Changeling. No, not the admittedly excellent, if overlong Angelina Jolie Oscar bait. I'm talking about the George C. Scott classic that I still consider among the finest ghost stories ever filmed, perhaps second only to The Haunting. I caught this one as a wee lad, all alone in my grandparents' living room, while the rest of the family argued downstairs in that uniquely Italian-American way.
Can you say nightmares? And lingering trauma? The image of the little boy being drowned in the bathtub was burned into my consciousness, and I could not approach a full tub, or even a toilet bowl, without first checking for a submerged face after that.
But there was a big difference between the relatively tame movies shown on afternoon syndicated TV and the kinds of movies my parents loved going to the theater to see, and renting to watch on that newfangled contraption we hooked up to our TV in the mid 1980s. See, I grew up during a golden age of gore cinema, when video store shelves were stocked to overflowing with forbidden fruit. No, I'm not talking about that section behind the beaded curtain (although that held a taboo appeal, as well). I'm talking about the horror section, filled with box covers which on their own were enough to shock me.
My parents were big horror nuts, but knew enough not to let me watch with them. They knew I wasn't ready yet. But that didn't stop me from being fascinated to listen to the terrifying sound effects coming from the living room downstairs as I tried to sleep, accompanied occasionally by a startled yelp from my mom. Or from listening in as they would gleefully describe their favorites to friends and family, movies like The Evil Dead, Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street.
The first time they ever tried to initiate me was far from a success, but it is what officially kicked off my love of horror nonetheless, and sums up in a nutshell my relationship with it. That was the time they cautiously relented and allowed me and my younger sister (!), after prolonged begging, to watch The Exorcist with them. As I look back now, they were clearly teaching me a lesson...
I'm proud to say I held together pretty well. That is, until the moment when Regan turns on her caregivers, her eyes rolled up into her head, a subhuman voice emanating from her lips. In a scene my father likes to describe as reminiscent of a terrified Oliver Hardy, my sister and I simultaneously lept from the couch, wailing with fright as we scrambled upstairs and into our beds.
Yet despite my dismay, I kept thinking back to what I had seen, more intrigued than ever. This was a step beyond anything I had ever seen on Channel 9. This was fear in its purest, distilled form. And despite my dread, I couldn't help wanting more. And it has been the same ever since.
As I got older, I got a little more freedom in my viewing choices, and so began seeking out the kinds of movies I was never allowed to see before. Thanks to home video, I got a crash course in my preteens and early teens in the modern classics of the genre. The first one to enthrall my imagination, as I've discussed at length before, was The Return of the Living Dead.
But that movie was only a prelude to the one I'd discover at the age of 15, and which would fill me with a kind of visceral horror that's been unequaled since. It was a lazy afternoon in November 1990, and like the geeky third wheel I was, I sat bored on the couch in the den of my friend's girlfriend's house, my pal and his gal off in another room. Needless to say, I was bummed, and in my search for something to watch, I came across a VHS tape on the shelf marked "Dawn of the Dead".
I popped it in, and after about ten minutes, I was way too distracted to continue feeling sorry for myself. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. That would kick off a completely irrational fear of zombies that would last for more years than I can admit without being a bit embarrassed.
I don't need a degree in psychology to realize that my bone-chilling phobia of the fictional undead was directly connected to a deep-seated fear of death I had been living with ever since first fully grasping the concept of my own mortality. Romero's zombie concept seemed tailor-made to keep me awake at night: Here was death itself, personified in the actual bodies of the dead refusing to politely disappear. And not only were they right in your face, but they also wanted to eat you. Could it get any worse?
The fact that I understood logically that zombies did not exist was little consolation. They were a reminder of the inevitability of death, which was enough. Not to mention they were also the source of years of nightmares, which unbelievably enough, persisted stubbornly into my adult years. Yet true to form, I remained morbidly fascinated, seeking out the most gut-wrenching zombie fare I could find (hence my Fulci obsession). There was a time when viewing such films was a truly upsetting experience, but one which I nonetheless compelled myself to endure.
But I got over my zombiephobia. I think having kids played a big part. You don't realize how much it changes you until it happens, and one of the biggest symptoms of maturity is the relinquishing of silly childhood hangups. The fictional fears that consume the self-centered years of youth suddenly dissipate when you're faced with the real fears and concerns of grown-up life. I mean, who has time to be worried about zombies and vampires when you're busy worrying about feeding a family, paying a mortgage, and the very real horrors that inspire parents to protect their children at all costs?
And so, my attitude toward horror movies has actually taken a dramatic shift in recent years. The outlandish, supernatural horror that once sent me into cold sweats I now find harmless fun. I see the humor in such movies that my unironic teenage mind never grasped. Rather, it's the more plausible, realistic stuff that freaks me out these days. Maybe because I'm more aware of the real horrors the world contains, I find myself strongly put off by movies most would describe as "torture porn".
Sometimes, while watching movies like Hostel and the like, I find myself wondering if I'm losing my edge and turning into an old fogey. Because I just don't have the stomach for it anymore. Even a well-made film like Inside, for example, will leave me with a bad taste in my mouth. Part of it is wondering what goes on in peoples' minds that even leads them to come up with such stories and scenarios. But the more honest part of me also is repulsed by my own desire to watch it in the first place.
And so, the bizarre, inexplicable lifelong fixation on the limits of my own fear continues-- transformed, but ever present...
George Romero's 1968 masterpiece Night of the Living Dead is rightfully credited with inventing the modern zombie genre. Yet it was the sequel to that film--released a full decade later--that effectively branded that genre into the collective consciousness of popular culture, ensuring that it was no fly-by-night niche but a category that was here to stay, much like vampires, werewolves and mummies before it.
Dawn of the Dead led to a veritable explosion of zombie movies, thanks to the ways in which it took the elements introduced in Night to a level virtually unseen in horror up to that point. In the 1970s, horror was all about the explicit, rather than the implied. And Dawn delivered explicit in buckets--audiences witnessed the flesh of victims being bitten; the heads of ghouls blown apart by shotgun fire; bodies being torn to pieces by hordes of the undead. And all in brightly lit full-color.
The picture was also a major evolutionary step forward both stylistically and thematically. Romero was able to create an overwhelming sense of impending dread and realism--this was a vision of the entire world literally falling apart. At the same time, he was able to deal with issues of race, gender and consumerism in bolder, more direct ways. Add a dose of black humor, and you have the ultimate horror epic.
Although released without the all-important MPAA rating, Dawn of the Dead managed to become a cult underground sensation. And its success opened the floodgates for a seemingly limitless flow of horror movies that dealt with the walking dead.
The craze first took hold in Italy, and the result was the infamous "Italian cycle" of zombie films. As had been seen with the earlier cannibal subgenre in Italian horror cinema, Italian filmmakers were not exactly squeamish when it came to delivering the bloody goods. And they took to the new subgenre almost as ravenously as the creatures that would populate their films.
Among the first was Lucio Fulci, whose dubiously titled Zombi 2 (1979) was unofficially marketed as a sequel to Dawn of the Dead (known in Europe as Zombi). Set on a Carribean island, the film harkens back in some respects to the more traditional voodoo-style of much earlier zombie films. Yet it is also decidedly a product of the Romero renaissance, focusing as it does on graphic depictions of rotting corpses and their flesh-eating frenzies. Yet there is something even more sinister at work in Fulci's flick--with no trace of humor in sight, it's a straight-ahead gorefest of unprecedented proportions. Unrelenting in its horror, the film seems to seek mainly to revolt the viewer as much as possible.
Fulci's later zombie trilogy continued his explorations into the utter bleakness of zombie horror. Hailed by some for being stylistically and technically superior to Zombi 2, City of the Living Dead (1980), The Beyond (1981) and House by the Cemetery (1981) were also less directly influenced by Romero. Here, Fulci struck out on more of an original path, tieing the zombie mythos to that of H.P. Lovecraft, and intertwining the zombie apocalypse with the apocalypse presented in the New Testament Book of Revelations.
Outside Fulci, the Italian zombie subgenre contained a relentless multitude of other entries--some good, some bad, all uncompromisingly brutal. For example, films like Nightmare City, The Nights of Terror, Zombie Creeping Flesh, and Zombie Holocaust were all released in 1980 alone.
The violence depicted in these movies was of a type never before seen in the history of cinema. Many have pointed to Italy's pervasive Roman Catholicism as the source for this zombie obsession. Specifically, in the Italian mindset, the living dead represent the ultimate horror, the most unspeakable blasphemy, because their existence refutes the sanctity of the human soul and is a perversion of the fundamental Christian belief in the resurrection of the body.
But Italy wasn't the only place where cinematic ghouls were flourishing. Some of George Romero's American compatriots were paying attention, as well. This was evidenced by films like John Carpenter's The Fog, released a year after Dawn of the Dead. Building on Romero's notions of social commentary, The Fog reinforced the idea that these movies could contain messages beyond the depiction of gore.
Unfortunately, however, Carpenter's work was an exception to the rule in America, where most zombie flicks could be included in the growing morass of junk that threatened to envelope the entire horror genre as a reaction to the voracious demand of the new home video market. Highlights include admitted cult favorite Night of the Creeps (1986) and Redneck Zombies (1987). If nothing else, the zombie deluge in America succeeded in cementing the subgenre in the annals of popular culture, a fact that can be attested to by Michael Jackson's classic Thriller video of 1983. The undead had arrived.
One of the ways in which zombie films managed to survive the 1980s despite the oversaturation was by adding healthy doses of what helped the entire horror genre survive the decade as well: comedy. Perhaps in no other era was the horror comedy so prevalent, and within this particular niche it earned an especially memorable name: splatstick.
Going in the complete opposite direction as the Italian cycle, splatstick flicks reveled in the absurdity of the zombie premise, serving up heaping helpings of irony and ridiculously over-the-top cartoon gore. Films like Bad Taste (1987), by newcomer Peter Jackson, were able to provoke both laughter and revulsion simultaneously. Despite being more about demonic possession than zombies, Sam Raimi's Evil Dead and Evil Dead II often get lumped into this category as well, particularly the sequel. The two most revered splatstick entries would have to be Stuart Gordon's Re-Animator and Dan O'Bannon's The Return of the Living Dead, which came out within weeks of each other in 1985.
Almost an instant classic, Re-Animator was based on the work of Lovecraft, and the satirical manner in which it dealt with the subject matter of bringing life to corpses made it the "anti-Frankenstein". Although its undead were not of the flesh-eating variety, Re-Animator was a more than worthy addition to the genre.
Return of the Living Dead's zombies were not of the flesh-eating variety either--no, they preferred brains. In fact, it was this film which directly led to the inextricable link between zombies and brain-eating that continues to persist in pop culture to this day. Originally envisioned as an unofficial sequel to Night of the Living Dead, O'Bannon chose instead, out of deference to the master, to take the proceedings in a more humorous direction. The result was a film which is regarded as one of the finest horror comedies ever made.
Ironically, ROTLD would go head-to-head with the long-awaited third chapter in Romero's series, 1985's Day of the Dead. Panned at the time by critics and rejected by fans, the film failed at the box office, its serious tone and depressing social message no match for the frivolity and punk rock mentality of O'Bannon's film. Also, budgetary constraints and creative disputes had caused the film to be significantly less than what Romero had originally intended it to be.
Nevertheless, Day of the Dead featured perhaps the most astonishing make-up work yet seen in a zombie picture (courtesy of Romero's right-hand man Tom Savini), and the most shocking violence this side of the Atlantic. It also gave us the sympathetic zombie Bub, one of the all-time great horror characters and another conceptual evolution in the subgenre. Over time, Day of the Dead would be reconsidered by fans and critics alike, and rightfully take its place alongside its two predecessors.
Once again, Romero had managed to reinvent the cinematic category he invented. But after Day of the Dead, several issues would cause the director to walk away from the world of the living dead. The genre would be forced to go on without him--and during a time when horror films in general would be suffering their lowest nadir in decades.
If you've been reading The Vault of Horror since the early days (all the way back in October), then you know about how much my son loves horror movies, and how much I enjoy showing them to him. Being a mere pre-schooler, his viewing has been confined to the more "tame" variety, such as Universal monster flicks, '50s sci-fi shlock and the like. But he's a tough little bruiser, so it takes quite a bit to unsettle him. He likes pushing himself, and nothing usually phases him. It's enough to make you occasionally forget that he isn't even four yet.
Once in a while, I had even experimented with movies like Shaun of the Dead and Fido, which tend to me more light-hearted, with only isolated bits of graphic stuff that can be easily fast-forwarded through. But that's about as adventurous as I got.
Then one day, as he and I were sitting on the couch, he suddenly hopped down, trotted over to the DVD tower, and pulled down The Return of the Living Dead. It had to be the glow-in-the-dark font on the special edition that got his attention--that and the zombies.
"Daddy, can we watch this?"
"Uh...no, no we can't watch that one. That's a grown-up movie. That's too scary."
What followed was a slowly escalating temper tantrum, of the kind that's usually reserved for bedtime or the denial of candy. Screaming, crying, jumping up and down, insisting. Now, I'm not one of these parents that simply gives in to their kids' every demand, creating spoiled brats in the process. But what I am is a pragmatist. We could go on like this for a couple of hours, I thought, or I could use this as an opportunity to teach the boy a valuable lesson. Cruel? I think that's putting it a little too strongly. I knew there was no way he'd get very far. And I was right.
As he sat on my lap, the opening scene in the medical supply warehouse held him transfixed. All those skeletons, split dogs and stuff--right up his alley. But then Frank and Freddy headed down to the basement. At the sight of the Tarman sealed up inside the trioxin cannister, he let out a little gasp. His eyes widened. Then stupid Frank smacked the cannister, letting out the gas. The Tarman's eyes opened, and we're off to the races.
Leaping off my lap for the first time, the little guy sprinted out of the living room, through the dining room and into the kitchen. A few seconds later, as the opening credits rolled, he crept back in, standing next to the TV.
"Daddy, I was just looking for a snack."
"I know, kid. Do you want me to stop the movie? Is it too scary?"
"No, I wanna see more. I'm not scared."
He climbed back up on my lap. We watched a little more. He laughed at the split dog yelping on the warehouse floor. But his reaction to the cadaver in the refrigerated locker was a little different. Once it started banging on the door and screaming to get out, he immediately jumped down off my lap again and bolted back into the dining room. Again, after a few seconds, he was back, this time a little slower.
"Daddy, I was just checking too see if the flowers on the table were OK."
I'm gonna need to teach the boy how to make up better excuses, some time before he starts dating.
"Are you sure that's all it was?"
"Yes."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Be honest, now."
"OK."
"Is this movie scaring you?"
"...."
"...."
"yes."
"Do you want me to take it off?"
"...."
"...."
"Yes. Let's put on one the movies that aren't scary."
"OK."
Relieved, I happily picked up the remote and ended the brief experiment. Just like I expected, he made it less than 15 minutes in before his stubborn little will gave out. As I put the DVD back on the shelf and took down Monsters Inc., I watched him sheepishly seat himself on the couch, a shy grin crossing his face.
"You know, it's OK to get scared sometimes. Everybody does. I told you there are some movies that are just a little too scary for you right now."
As loyal Vault dwellers, you might be aware that one of--if not the film that transformed me into a died-in-the-wool horror fanatic was the late Dan O'Bannon's masterpiece, The Return of the Living Dead. From when I first experienced it at age 12, I was enthralled by it, and the fascination has only increased with time. It's a fantastic horror comedy for so many reasons, but I've been through that many times before. The bottom line is, it's a film that means a whole lot to me (and no, not just because of Linnea Quigley as Trash...)
I'll have the privilege of introducing both films, and well, the good Captain will be providing zombie ambience as only she can. In fact, I can thank her and her mysterious undead powers for helping to finally get the Avon and the Vault together in the first place. This place is a local treasure, and it is literally a dream come true to be able to join in on the fun.
