World War Z (2013)

Did anyone expect a zombie movie from the director who brought you Stranger Than Fiction (one of the best metafictional films) and Quantum of Solace (one of the less inspiring Bond films in recent memory)?  Maybe I expected a talkier film from Marc Forster, especially because of the epistolary format of the eponymous Max Brooks novel, but what I got was something more engaging – an entertaining blockbuster-lite with some thrilling zombie set pieces.

Brad Pitt stars as Gerry Lane, average joe with classified UN experience which comes in handy when teeming hordes of the undead take over Philadelphia – and, Gerry learns, most of the world.  In exchange for his family’s safety, Gerry agrees to escort a leading physician in search of a cure, a harrowing search which will take Gerry around the world and face to face with speedy, deadly zombies.

Devotees of the Brooks book will likely find fault with the fact that the film streamlines the book’s narrative, eliminating most of the political commentary and torqueing the story toward a more action-based plot.  (In fact, I suspect you could change the name of the film and those folks might like it better.)  While I miss the governmental satire Brooks brought to the genre, portraying political leaders as bumbling naysayers until it’s too late, I found the book a bit repetitive, duplication which the film eliminates by focusing on Gerry Lane and not his interviewees.

This change allows Forster to focus more on in-the-moment experiences of the zombie apocalypse rather than reflect nostalgically on the experience.  While the latter has its advantages in a literary form, it’s hard to imagine that being a compelling film (perhaps as a mockumentarian experiment?).  Instead, Forster drops us in on the day of the zombie disaster, literally in the middle of a traffic jam with only pancakes to prepare us.  Granted, this comes at the expense of character development; we don’t know much about what makes Gerry or anyone else in the film tick beyond basic survival.  Conversely, the film mercifully avoids padding out the cast with stock survivor characters (see Shaun of the Dead for a gleeful vivisection of these tropes) by following Gerry.

It’s likely Pitt’s star power that elicits the audience’s sympathies more so than the strength of the script, but Forster makes up for the script’s shortcomings (with Brooks, five writers – too many cooks?) by prizing spectacle over protagonist.  By staging a series of progressively more intricate and more terrifying zombie confrontations (I counted seven), Forster creates a deeply personal involvement with the audience, who can’t help but hold their breath once it becomes apparent that zombies react to sound.  Simultaneously, the shifting setting creates a global feel for a genre that too often has been bogged down by the stale locked-room plot (cf. Mulberry Street done wrong, Dawn of the Dead done right).

Want zombies in the metropolis?  Sure, you’ve seen it before, but rarely with the terror-of-the-unseen rendered here.  Zombies on a plane?  (Where’s Sam Jackson when you need him?)  WWZ’s got those, too.  And if you liked those two, Forster outdoes himself with the film’s final big zombie scene, which collects all the bits the film introduces to the mythology and throws them together into a tense sequence requiring silence and sharp reflexes – almost like a video game level but without the passivity that often plagues such moments.  Here especially, Forster knows when to go for the jugular and when to pause for a moment of levity (thank God for Pepsi, that’s all I’ll say).

Taken holistically, World War Z isn’t the “complete package” that zombie aficionados might expect from the genre, but what WWZ lacks in innovation it atones for with execution.  With those house lights dimmed and nothing between moviegoers and the screen, the bumps in the dark create an effective cinematic experience that ends up being more fun than I expected.

World War Z is rated PG-13 “for intense frightening zombie sequences, violence and disturbing images.”  The zombies are pretty freaky – pale veiny skin with translucent eyes, snarls and gnashing teeth with dried flecks of blood.  The blood doesn’t flow as freely as elsewhere in the genre, but plenty of bodies are felled by biting, gunfire, and blunt force trauma; in an intense but brisk moment, a hand is amputated.

Shaun of the Dead (2004)

This review has probably been a long time coming. Edgar Wright's first filmic collaboration with Simon Pegg, Shaun of the Dead has been referred to more times on this blog, I would estimate, than any other non-reviewed film herein. Well, no more. Here below, for your reading pleasure, is a treatise on why I love Shaun of the Dead.

In a film that calls itself "the first rom-zom-com" (romantic zombie comedy), Pegg stars as the titular Shaun, who's grappling with a lackluster job as an electronics salesman and a precarious relationship with girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield), who wants more out of life than nights out at local pub The Winchester with Shaun's coarse roommate Ed (Nick Frost). Then zombies attack, and Shaun is forced to deal with his possibly-infected stepfather Phil (Bill Nighy) while attempting to win Liz back amid a mob scene of bite-happy undead.

It's no secret to loyal readers of this blog that I'm absolutely mad about Shaun of the Dead - in an all-encompassing delirious love sense of the word (appropriately, the British definition). The film remains Edgar Wright's finest hour (or hour-forty, to be precise), rambunctiously entertaining and unflinchingly satirical without ever becoming distractingly parodical (I'm looking at you, "Reference Movie" crowd). Blame the airtight screenplay by Wright and Pegg, which teases zombie film conventions while foreshadowing its own plot growth. The script's greatest virtue, though, is its repetition of memorable dialogue and eye-popping (sometimes literally) visual gags that get funnier each time they're executed.

The performances are also credible, with the players doing their parts without relying on comedy crutches like mugging or pandering. Because the cast takes itself seriously while simultaneously recognizing the absurdity of their situation (the epitome of this being Shaun's heated exclamation, "Oh, give us a f---ing break!" as a second wave of zombies encroaches on his position), the comedy is played for more than just a knowing chuckle. Instead, we're treated to great rolling-in-the-aisles fits of laughter which comes not in small doses but in almost every scene. Pegg leads the cast, but it's Frost who will elicit the most laughs from filmgoers, with his gruff yet endearing portrayal of the unpolished Ed; if nothing else, his impression of "Clyde" (it'd be spoiling to tell who Clyde is) will get a few giddy giggles. Even Bill Nighy takes his droll self and drags it out into a plausible caricature of the unlikeable survivor with a heart of gold.

Where the film really succeeds, though, is in its childlike enthusiasm for its subject matter and the gleefully chaotic way in which it plays out, non sequitur humor amplifying the already farcically absurd nature of the film. Who else would think that Queen fits perfectly with a zombie invasion? (Spoiler: it does.) Where else would ice cream and smoking be priorities while surviving a zombie attack? (Spoiler: only in Ed's mind.) And where else would you find a zombie invasion film where the invasion itself happens off-screen and is only a MacGuffin around which the characters can chase each other?

I'm inclined to say that Shaun of the Dead is my favorite zombie movie ever (sorry, Zombieland, but it takes more than a Twinkie to win my heart), and I'm even more ready to claim that it's one of the better films overall made in the last ten years. It's certainly one of the most entertaining.
Shaun of the Dead is rated "R for zombie violence/gore and language." The zombies themselves are grotesque enough, but there are bludgeonings and arterial sprays all over the film, prompting the unforgettable one-liner, "You've got red on you." F-bombs and C-words abound, all played for laughs but nonetheless fantastically inappropriate.

Zombieland (2009)

After Jennifer's Body (and after the last few posts retroactively updated the blog with reviews I'd written a while back), I needed a fresh movie to restore my faith in the cinema. It was with reservation that I slid Zombieland into my DVD player, but within moments my trepidation was assuaged.

You see, I love a zombie movie that doesn't take itself seriously - Shaun of the Dead is on my as-yet-unpublished "Best of the 2000s" list - and if the undead tongue is firmly in the decaying cheek, I'm right there. Zombieland is another entry in a long line of zombie movies with a sense of humor, and it's one of the better ones.

In an America populated primarily by zombies and where identities are subordinated to destinations (our protagonist is named Columbus, because that's where he's going), survival of the fittest is the order of the day, and the prize for those who make it is the promise of the last Twinkie on earth. Narrator Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg, who seems to be the B-list Michael Cera) meets up with Tallahassee (a fabulous Woody Harrelson), who's all about one-upsmanship and making zombie-killing an art while searching for that last Twinkie. The unlikely duo match wits several times with con artist sisters Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin) before a delightful showdown at the most bitingly contagious theme park this side of Disney World.

While I'm not a big fan of Eisenberg - Adventureland (also set, curiously, at an amusement park) left me cold and I'd much rather watch Michael Cera do the same act - Harrelson rarely lets me down, and his turn as Tallahassee is iconic for all the right reason, setting a new standard for infectiously fun zombie-killers in the same way that Zac Efron redefined teeny-bopper musicals. Stone is cute in a quirky kind of way, and she's entirely believable as a sneaky survivalist. Breslin's cute, too, like a less pretentious and more talented Dakota Fanning with more appeal to a broader audience. So the cast is a lot of fun.

(Note: I think the statute of limitations on spoilers has expired, but just in case... skip this paragraph if you don't want a pleasant mid-flick surprise spoiled.) The most fun, though, comes from an entirely unpredictable and extremely kitschy cameo appearance by Bill Murray, playing himself as one of the last remaining non-infected humans. Murray plays himself, but he does it with as much dry wit as in his most acclaimed roles (Groundhog Day and Ghostbusters, which gets a name check here). There's nothing un-funny about his five or so minutes in the middle of the movie, and the rest of the film almost feels like a letdown once he exits the stage.

The second half of the film has a different feel after the dynamically rip-roaring opening hour, but it's still a lot of fun. It's hard to believe that, in the forty or so years since George Romero made zombies cool, there are still creative ways to kill the undead (again). But how about garden shears? A car door? A piano? Zombieland has all that and more, especially the unforgettable "Double Tap" rule that must be seen to be fully appreciated.

The film is gratuitously violent, but its excessive nature is not purposeless, because the film is so ludiccrously over the top that the blood-and-guts effects have to be similarly beyond the pale. So while some fans might object to the slow-mo shot of a zombie vomiting blood over the opening credits, those of us who are in on the joke know that Zombieland is intentionally dialing the genre up to eleven. Watching Tallahassee do his thing - giggling maniacally and taunting the zombies as he goes - should be proof enough that the filmmakers are having as much fun as they'd like us to have.

It's a biting good time.

Zombieland is, no surprise, rated "R for horror violence/gore and language." The gore certainly isn't for the squeamish, but the language wouldn't make Joe Pesci blush.

Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn (1987)

I've already given Evil Dead a great review for being fun and frightening, with all the shine of a great Hollywood camp classic. Unfortunately, by the time Evil Dead II came around, the zombie-fied adventures of Ash Williams (Bruce Campbell - a man with so much camp cred, they put it in his name) are wearing a bit of tarnish.

After a mildly disorienting recap of the first film (director Sam Raimi, unable to reuse footage from the first film due to a rights conflict, had to film new footage recapping the first film), we pick up right where we left off - with a mysterious force attacking Ash (Campbell) just as new faces are coming to the haunted cabin in the woods. Along the way, Ash encounters a(nother) demon in the fruit cellar and has to cope with the infection of his own hand, which goes rogue in top slapstick form.

Evil Dead II delves more into the mythology of the franchise, exploring in greater detail what the creepy creatures are and where the Necromicon (Book of the Dead) came from. This attention to detail - and the increased appearance of stop-motion and body-suit monsters - ends up hurting the film, distracting us from the emotional heart of the movie: namely, Ash and the four new forest-going folks. Where the first movie kept the invading forces a mystery - and rightly so (see The Strangers for the utmost in anonymous villainy) - Evil Dead II's interest in world-building seems forced and self-conscious.

Perhaps the creatures would have worked if they looked more realistic. The first film's creatures were predominantly just the actors wearing ooky makeup once their characters became infected. Here we have a full-figured rubber suit living in the fruit cellar and a headless stop-motion skeleton in the woods, as well as a Harryhausen-esque hydralike creature attacking Ash at the climax. And don't get me started on the incarnation of evil that appaears at the end of the film, which looks something like a ridiculous cross between The Blob, Starro the Conqueror, and Spidertron from Power Rangers. Keeping it real rather than resorting to fantastic creatures might have helped the film.

But Campbell still keeps it light as Ash, inciting a decent amount of guffaws - particularly at his antics once his right hand becomes infected. And it takes a special kind of camp to strap a chainsaw to your arm (is this where Cherry Darling's gun leg was born?) and deliver the line "Groovy!" without destroying the audience's experience. So kudos to Campbell.

As sequels go, this isn't the worst I've seen. Evil Dead II is probably on the level of Attack of the Clones as far as sequels go; it takes a while to get going, but the same charm from the first movie is still present and the ending is wow-inducing, setting up perfectly for the third installment in the series, Army of Darkness. Groovy, indeed.


Evil Dead II was initially released unrated, but the creature violence (graphic blood of all kinds of colors) and gruesome shadowplay (mostly involving chainsaws) would land it a hard R rating today, with the help of some strong language.

Mulberry Street (2006)

Let's give new director Jim Mickle's Mulberry Street an A for effort but unfortunately brand it with a C for execution. I usually deplore such graded reviews since they invite comparisons (I'd certainly give The Dark Knight an A for effort, but that in no way equates it with other As for effort), but here it seems appropriate.

One of a string of recent "experiment films" in the horror genre, Mulberry Street is an update of sorts of the zombie genre. Here the zombie infection is spread via rats in a soon-to-be-abandoned tenement home on Manhattan's Mulberry Street. The tenents end up fighting for their lives while holed up in a creaky building that is bound to have a few infestations; chief among these characters is Clutch (Nick Damici, co-writer with Mickle), who's expecting his daughter Casey (Kim Blair) to return home from the war today of all days.

I give this one an A for execution because rats scare the jeepers out of me. Anything with gnawing teeth and an irritating squeak just rubs me the wrong way, so I'm glad someone decided to give government bioweapons and biological mutations a rest. The overall creepy factor of swarms of rats succeeds here, and the gore that's becoming more prevalent in horror films is effectively used here. And fairly fresh face Damici has a lot of potential as demonstrated by his tough yet compassionate and endearing turn as Clutch.

Yet the movie drops the ball in a lot of places. Jump moments - my favorite part of any horror movie - are almost invisible, predictable when they occur and absent in most places where they should be. The cinematography has been praised for being realistic and documentarian, but I found it overly shaky and blurred, feeling a lot like watching video game animatics rather than combat sequences pitting human against rat-person. And, Clutch aside, most of the cast falls into empty cliche territory, feeling like good ideas but without the characterization to adequately explain their purpose in the plot.

The hallmark of any good horror film, furthermore, is twofold: a strong message and a gripping ending. Unfortunately, Mulberry Street is lacking in both. The movie hints somewhat at themes of eminent domain (anti), the war in Iraq (pro), and perhaps even AIDS - the latter of which relies on some muddy subtext that other bloggers have picked up on moreso than I did. As for endings, Mulberry Street practically steals from Night of the Living Dead without the creativity, imagination, or irony that the 1968 groundbreaker had.

Skip it, dear readers. Let me know if there's any really good horror movies out there that I haven't seen just yet!


The MPAA rated Mulberry Street "R for creature violence/gore and language." Gore is abundant, as is some objectionable language that gives the film an authentic Big Apple feel.

The Evil Dead (1981)

Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead is without a doubt one of the most disgusting movies I've seen in my life. Yet, for all the blood, gore, and effluvium copiously flowing through the film, I couldn't tear myself away.

I couldn't stop laughing!

It's kind of funny that I'd resume my reviewing duties with a look at a cult classic almost thirty years old, but then I have a habit of seeing these "golden oldies" too late (I'm reminded of the Jim Gaffigan bit where he sees Heat and wants to talk about it, only to find all his friends saw the film six years ago - a plight I'm now in with that exact movie). But after watching The Evil Dead, I'm not surprised that Bruce Campbell and the character "Ash" are cult favorites. After a lackluster experience with Mulberry Street, I was looking for a startling and severely nauseating horror flick, and Raimi delivered.

It's difficult for me, without a thorough knowledge of the genre, to separate what's innovative from what's cliche, so I won't suggest such distinctions. Ash (Campbell) and four of his buddies are spending some time in an abandoned cabin in the middle of some undeniably haunted woods when the spirits are awakened by a tape recording and begin to attack the five youths. It's a simple premise, one that Raimi executes more than adequately.

This is, after all, a horror film, so the acting isn't Oscar caliber; Campbell approaches credibility, but the star acting comes from the "Fake Shemps" screaming and writhing as the epnoymous zombies. As a horror film, though, there's blood -and plenty of it. Deft cinematography and edgy camera angles bring more terror to the film than the admittedly dated special effects could. The first thirty minutes of the movie are not the best; the exposition sputters and dies a few times, delivering a few attempts at jump moments that flop and leading me to question whether I should give up the film before too long. Once the audio tape is found and one of the girls returns from a disorienting encounter in the woods, however, I was on solid ground.

I asked at the beginning why it was this particular film that brought me back to the reviewing fold. Here's the short answer - this is the Pirates of the Caribbean of zombie films. By this I mean that it doesn't take itself too seriously, but you'll take it seriously enough to have a good time with it - that is, don't be surprised if you're cringing one second and laughing the next. I sure did; those in the house with me when I watched it were flabbergasted by my uncharacteristic loudness during the film, groaning in disgust, reeling with nausea, doubled over with laughter. I had a blast with this film. I suppose, by reviewing it, I hope you will too.

The Evil Dead bore an NC-17 rating on its original release, though the DVD is unrated. Brutally gory scenes of zombie violence, as well as some partial nudity early in the film, would probably garner it an R rating today.

Planet Terror (2007)

Director Robert Rodriguez has never been known for high cinema; indeed, most of his movies pride themselves on being ridiculously over-the-top and purely for entertainment value. Planet Terror (originally paired with Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof in the 2007 commercial disaster Grindhouse) is no different, with the exception of being the best of the unique genre of "trash film."

That's not to say that the movie is trash; it's an homage to the trash films of the 70s. Rodriguez's love of garbage culture really shows here, but I'm not sure he realizes that he's doing those movies one better.

Planet Terror is, in a way, the zombie movie to end all zombie movies (in fact, if I never have to see another "...of the Dead" movie at the box office, it'll be too soon). When Lt. Muldoon (Bruce Willis) and his men unleash a concentrated nerve gas on a small Texas town, a few distinct characters struggle for survival - former go-go dancer Cherry Darling (the absolutely stunning Rose McGowan), who's short one leg; the mysterious El Wray (Freddy Rodriguez - no relation), who's too good with a loaded gun; Sheriff Hague (Michael Biehn), who's after his brother JT's (spot-on Jeff Fahey) barbecue recipe; and Dr. Dakota Block (Marley Shelton), who's just managed to escape from her villainous husband Doc Block (Josh Brolin, who's better here than he is in No Country for Old Men).

Though the plot is clear and crisp, you'll probably be paying more attention to the intentionally grungy visuals, the strikingly hysterical dialogue, and the flashbulb-photographic memorable images. The entire film is digitally "enhanced" with scuffs, scratches, and pops on the screen, so it looks as though you're watching a degraded film reel. That sounds like an annoying effect, but its execution is nothing short of mood-setting brilliance.

Rodriguez, who always writes his own screenplays (with the exception, of course, of Sin City), is at the top of his game with this one. Planet Terror is fast-paced, action-packed, and funnier than a Jim Gaffigan marathon (okay, maybe not that funny, but you get the picture). A lot of the humor comes from the intentionally corny dialogue, with lines like "I'm gonna eat your brains... and gain your knowledge!" and "It's go-go, not cry-cry" among the many that have entered my own personal vocabulary.

Then there's the iconic image of Cherry Darling, her leg replaced with a machine gun. We return to that old Godard-ism that "All you need for a movie is a gun and a girl." Somehow, I doubt this is what Godard had in mind when he delivered that famous aphorism, but darned if it isn't a fulfillment of that theory! Ignoring the impossibility of the physics involved in Cherry shooting her leg, there's just something damned cool about her. Points to Rodriguez for a brilliantly cool shot where Cherry, after decimating an army of zombies, blows the smoke from her gun-leg's barrel and later dons a pair of tinted sunglasses with a tremendous explosion behind her. Phew... cool.

High cinema it ain't, but Planet Terror is most certainly one of the most entertaining movies of 2007. A wild ride from start to finish, the most fun I've had at a movie since I-can't-remember-when, Planet Terror is one of those movies that tries so hard to be liked - and succeeds.