Another example of patriotic zombies, this time from MANIAC director William Lustig. Working from a script by B-movie guru Larry Cohen, this 1996 release tries to Kruegerize the great American icon, but the entire enterprise feels as lifeless as its title character.
The plot centers around Jody (Christopher Ogden), a young boy whose uncle Sam was killed by friendly fire during the Gulf War. Finally making its way home, his casket waits in Jody's living room until the funeral, saving the production much money in location costs. (Head-scratching abounds in the early scenes: if Sam's a zombie in the prologue, why/how is he dormant in his coffin? Why did it take so long to identify Sam's body, when he died with his dog tags? And what the hell is Jody doing in school in July?) When a group of teens burn a flag at his gravesite, Sam returns to life, donning an Uncle Sam costume for his vengeance-spree.
UNCLE SAM takes forever getting started, as its roster of victims is established (a draft-dodging teacher, a local politician who belittles the National Anthem, the cop who's dating Sam's widow), but even once the killing begins it comes off dry and perfunctory. For what's essentially a slasher film with a creative premise, UNCLE SAM seems strangely dispassionate when bumping off its cast. But then, it's never clear why Sam kills; is he outraged he was denied burial at Arlington? Does he want to punish those who disrespect the country he loves? Or is he merely out for revenge? Cohen's screenplay picks whatever motivation's convenient at that moment.
And while it's obvious why Sam chooses his victims--painfully so, in most cases--he dispatches them with no irony or sense of poetic justice, save one bit involving a head-shot Abe Lincoln. UNCLE SAM tries to incorporate Fourth of July trappings, like killing off Robert Forster in a shower of fireworks, but wouldn't Sam consider impaling someone on the American flag disrespectful?
Lustig includes a number of familiar faces in small roles, from Isaac Hayes as a wounded war veteran, to William Smith, who wrote and performs the clunky spoken-word piece over the end credits, but his leads are woefully anemic. Jody starts off as a genuinely curious child trying to sort the romanticized image of battle from its grim reality, but quickly turns into an unlikeable brat. Sympathy is suddenly shifted to Jody's friend, a boy blinded and crippled in a firework mishap, who has plot-convenient telepathic powers; his presence makes little sense.
Unlike the similarly-themed HOMECOMING, UNCLE SAM keeps its tongue firmly in cheek (unfortunately, it also has one thumb stuck up its ass), but it never creates the spark that a fun horror movie should have--the film's a shining example of how shitty fright flicks were in the mid-'90s. Instead of simply dedicating the film to Lucio Fulci, Lustig should've followed his lead.
Lustig went on to do great documentaries for Anchor Bay and later founded the incredible Blue Underground label, which brought us a wealth of memorable pictures on DVD. Judging from the flaccid nature of his last feature film, it's clear that he made the right decision.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
DAY 120--CARPE NOCTEM
Yeah, another DIARY OF THE DEAD contest entry, this one from Keith M. Bates. (If it makes you feel better, I'm getting a little tired of these, too; patience, gentle readers, I'll be spacing them out soon.) CARPE NOCTEM tackles the classic they're-attacking-the-installation scenario, ostensibly on the same night Romero's original takes place.
Besides being just a vignette, and a fragment of one at that, NOCTEM is shoddily written, with odious acting. I realize that some of these shorts may be produced by amateurs, bu c'mon people, isn't there a community theater near you? (I'd also like to take a second and pimp the experimental film EXQUISITE CORPSE, a collection of short films based on the writings of Michael Arnzen. Anyone submitting to this contest would do well to study it, to see that it is possible to make a short film--with a true beginning, middle, and end--in under three minutes.)
Without the technical polish to compensate for its sketch of a premise, CARPE NOCTEM doesn't add up to much.
CARPE NOCTEM
Besides being just a vignette, and a fragment of one at that, NOCTEM is shoddily written, with odious acting. I realize that some of these shorts may be produced by amateurs, bu c'mon people, isn't there a community theater near you? (I'd also like to take a second and pimp the experimental film EXQUISITE CORPSE, a collection of short films based on the writings of Michael Arnzen. Anyone submitting to this contest would do well to study it, to see that it is possible to make a short film--with a true beginning, middle, and end--in under three minutes.)
Without the technical polish to compensate for its sketch of a premise, CARPE NOCTEM doesn't add up to much.
CARPE NOCTEM
DAY 119--HOMECOMING
Y'know, it's funny, but until recently I'd never seen Showtime's MASTERS OF HORROR series. Blame it on my lack of cable, or the skewed ratio of the number of movies to time-alloted, or that I'd heard too many mixed reactions to go out of my way to check it out. Regardless, I had decided that if and when I sampled Mick Garris's TV brainchild, I'd probably skip Joe Dante's first-season episode HOMECOMING, the somewhat controversial anti-war zombie tale. Ironic, then, that this is the first one that I see.
Now, the last thing I want to do is turn this blog into anything remotely political; your views are your views, and I'll respect them. And while I appreciate Dante's (and scriptwriter Sam Hamm's) frustration and anger, such a blatant presentation of a political viewpoint negates its satirical edge, no matter how biting.
Even on a basic storytelling level, the plot (in which a GOP spin doctor instigates the resurrection of soldiers killed in Iraq, who return to vote the current administration out of office) struggles to be interesting. Of course, when you prominently feature facsimiles of Larry King and Ann Coulter, it's going to be damned difficult to draw me in (though the always-great Robert Picardo does a great job standing in for Karl Rove), but the story's pace is just too slow, weighed down by principles when it should be propelled by its characters. There is a brief exploration of lead Jon Tenney's childhood and his first brush with tragedy, but it's so simplistic it verges on silly; I didn't find it believable at all.
Maybe it goes back to the old saw about discussing politics and religion, but watching HOMECOMING was like being trapped in an elevator with one of those talking heads from Faux News. Hey, Dante's entitled to express his opinion, but I would've preferred a coating of metaphor to help the message go down. (I'd also take a page from SOUTH PARK, who excel at this kind of thinly-veiled satire; being funny helps get your point across easier.)
Now, the last thing I want to do is turn this blog into anything remotely political; your views are your views, and I'll respect them. And while I appreciate Dante's (and scriptwriter Sam Hamm's) frustration and anger, such a blatant presentation of a political viewpoint negates its satirical edge, no matter how biting.
Even on a basic storytelling level, the plot (in which a GOP spin doctor instigates the resurrection of soldiers killed in Iraq, who return to vote the current administration out of office) struggles to be interesting. Of course, when you prominently feature facsimiles of Larry King and Ann Coulter, it's going to be damned difficult to draw me in (though the always-great Robert Picardo does a great job standing in for Karl Rove), but the story's pace is just too slow, weighed down by principles when it should be propelled by its characters. There is a brief exploration of lead Jon Tenney's childhood and his first brush with tragedy, but it's so simplistic it verges on silly; I didn't find it believable at all.
Maybe it goes back to the old saw about discussing politics and religion, but watching HOMECOMING was like being trapped in an elevator with one of those talking heads from Faux News. Hey, Dante's entitled to express his opinion, but I would've preferred a coating of metaphor to help the message go down. (I'd also take a page from SOUTH PARK, who excel at this kind of thinly-veiled satire; being funny helps get your point across easier.)
DAY 118--WHEN YOU TURN . . .
Adolpho Navarro throws his undead hat into the ring with his short WHEN YOU TURN . . . Presented as captured video as five strangers seek refuge from the living dead, its cinema verite feel would've been more successful with more consistent POV camerawork, less blurriness when the camera moves, and better digital effects (the latter being particularly problematic). There's no story here, just a rapid progression of people (named Shaun, Barbara, Cooper, ad nauseum) of being bitten, turning, and biting the next one in line, though with the level of acting displayed I was quite grateful the entries are restricted to a three-minute time limit. (Since when did zombies acquire bad Karloff impersonations?)
Although it replicates the DIARY OF THE DEAD feel, its cutesy-clever gags and amateurish performances prevent it from being more than a slight gimmick.
WHEN YOU TURN . . .
Although it replicates the DIARY OF THE DEAD feel, its cutesy-clever gags and amateurish performances prevent it from being more than a slight gimmick.
WHEN YOU TURN . . .
DAY 117--RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD PART II
Ken Wiederhorn, who directed the B-movie gem SHOCK WAVES back in 1977 (and incidentally, anyone who can hook me up with a copy of that flick will be my new BFF), returned to zombies in 1988 with this tragically unfit sequel to Dan O'Bannon's serio-comic classic. Not-funny and not-scary in equal measure, the film treats fans of the original with the same casual disregard as it does with the film itself.
Originally written by Wiederhorn as a stand-alone screenplay, he wedges a barrel of Trioxin into a tame story about a young boy (Michael Kenworthy) who accidentally unleashes an army of undead onto his sleepy California town. James Karen and Thom Mathews return from the first in unrelated roles, and although their scenes together are just as asinine as the others, they're by far the highlight of the picture. (I've long since come to the conclusion that Karen would rock reading the Yellow Pages on YouTube, an option far more appealing than another viewing of this dreck.)
Wiederhorn regurgitates many of the more popular elements of O'Bannon's film, offering up a pale imitation of the Tar Man and having Karen and Mathews repeat some of their more memorable lines. If this was done in the spirit of homage I could be more forgiving, but too often it feels more like laziness on the director's part. On his DVD commentary Wiederhorn freely admits the film was an attempt to break out of the horror market, but such a remark isn't necessary; his apathy bleeds through every frame of this flick.
What angers me most is Wiederhorn's treatment of the undead. The scene in which the zombies rise from their graves--a setpiece that shows promise at first, despite aping the first film and stretching the boundaries of logic--plays them for laughs almost as soon as they're out of the ground. GodDAMN how that pisses me off! And if you're going to make your zombies the butt of your jokes, for fuck's sake be funny. But throwing in near-sighted zombies and the undead falling into open graves isn't enough, Wiederhorn goes the extra mile with a gratuitous THRILLER parody that's as stupid as it is irrelevant.
More remake than sequel, RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD PART II is enough to bring the bile to the back of my throat. If I may quote the esteemed Roger Ebert, I hated hated hated hated this movie. (My apologies to Mr. Ebert if I missed a hated.) Boring and insulting, it would take nothing less than a smoking hot zombie chick to salvage this series, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
In lieu of a trailer (which wouldn't load, probably out of shame), here's the Michael Jackson zombie in all its outdated glory:
Originally written by Wiederhorn as a stand-alone screenplay, he wedges a barrel of Trioxin into a tame story about a young boy (Michael Kenworthy) who accidentally unleashes an army of undead onto his sleepy California town. James Karen and Thom Mathews return from the first in unrelated roles, and although their scenes together are just as asinine as the others, they're by far the highlight of the picture. (I've long since come to the conclusion that Karen would rock reading the Yellow Pages on YouTube, an option far more appealing than another viewing of this dreck.)
Wiederhorn regurgitates many of the more popular elements of O'Bannon's film, offering up a pale imitation of the Tar Man and having Karen and Mathews repeat some of their more memorable lines. If this was done in the spirit of homage I could be more forgiving, but too often it feels more like laziness on the director's part. On his DVD commentary Wiederhorn freely admits the film was an attempt to break out of the horror market, but such a remark isn't necessary; his apathy bleeds through every frame of this flick.
What angers me most is Wiederhorn's treatment of the undead. The scene in which the zombies rise from their graves--a setpiece that shows promise at first, despite aping the first film and stretching the boundaries of logic--plays them for laughs almost as soon as they're out of the ground. GodDAMN how that pisses me off! And if you're going to make your zombies the butt of your jokes, for fuck's sake be funny. But throwing in near-sighted zombies and the undead falling into open graves isn't enough, Wiederhorn goes the extra mile with a gratuitous THRILLER parody that's as stupid as it is irrelevant.
More remake than sequel, RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD PART II is enough to bring the bile to the back of my throat. If I may quote the esteemed Roger Ebert, I hated hated hated hated this movie. (My apologies to Mr. Ebert if I missed a hated.) Boring and insulting, it would take nothing less than a smoking hot zombie chick to salvage this series, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
In lieu of a trailer (which wouldn't load, probably out of shame), here's the Michael Jackson zombie in all its outdated glory:
DAY 116--BODY FARM
BODY FARM, a short film credited to FGCU Zombie Film, is another applicant in the DIARY OF THE DEAD contest. (Hopefully, you're not getting tired of seeing these. They're not only an excellent way of maintaining a one-a-day status when real life gets hectic, but many of these shorts are fascinating.) Structurally I didn't care for it--the meat of the story is a daydream, capped with an or-is-it ending, is trite and done beyond death--but this tale of a student and his professor visiting his school's "body farm" at least displays some decent visual style. Yes, we've all seen zombies emerging from an elevator and hordes of zombified faces pressed against windows, but as far as capturing the spirit and feel of Romero's work (an aspect of the contest that's frequently overlooked), BODY FARM shines.
My biggest quibble is the horrendously disproportionate sound quality, which renders the dialogue all but inaudible yet leaves the physical sound effects ear-splittingly loud. And daydream or not, having a character stand his ground and shoot zombies when running is a far clearer alternative gets on my nerves.
BODY FARM
My biggest quibble is the horrendously disproportionate sound quality, which renders the dialogue all but inaudible yet leaves the physical sound effects ear-splittingly loud. And daydream or not, having a character stand his ground and shoot zombies when running is a far clearer alternative gets on my nerves.
BODY FARM
Saturday, March 1, 2008
DAY 115--DAWN OF THE DEAD (2004)
Like many of you who read this blog, I was seething when I first heard the announcement that DAWN OF THE DEAD was being remade. How dare they tamper with Romero's classic, cried the dissidents (I know, I was among them). Heads were demanded on platters. Solemn death vows were sworn. They're gonna fuck it up, we railed. Jesus, they got the guy who wrote the fuckin' SCOOBY-DOO movie to do the screenplay for God's sake!
And when the film finally premiered we shuffled into our local multiplexes like the condemned headed to the gallows, visions of the PSYCHO and THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE remakes hanging overhead. Yet when the house lights went up at the end of the film you could hear a collective sigh of relief and bemused surprise.
Holy shit, that wasn't bad at all. Pretty damn good, even.
I exaggerate, of course, but if there was ever a movie that benefited greatly from zero expectations it was Zack Snyder's 2004 remake of DAWN OF THE DEAD. It benefited so much that all it took was a second viewing to demote it from "horror classic of the new millennium" to "not-bad studio fright film." While I still think it's a decent picture, with a little critical perspective it's quite easy to see the flaws in this well-made but shallow Hollywood product.
After an incredible prologue to get the story rolling (I've come to find that the earliest stages of an undead epidemic, as characters realize the severity of their situation and are forced to adapt, is my favorite part of apocalyptic-styled zombie films), it becomes clear that the new-and-improved DAWN is trading the original's pitch-black satire for slick Hollywood escapism. It succeeds in large part because it respects Romero's source material, even if his based-on credit lasts for all of a half-second. And though Snyder keeps a tight rein on the flashy excesses that mar most commercial directors' feature debuts, credit largely belongs to James Gunn's script (which is fair, since a lot of us blamed Gunn for ruining everything before the film came out).
Fans of the original got thrown bones in the form of cameos from Tom Savini, Scott Reininger, and Ken Foree; while it's a treat to see each of them, only the latter emerges as more than a gimmicky snippet. Foree gets to repeat his famous "When there's no more room in Hell" line, this time as a Falwell-esque condemnation of non-Christian lifestyles, a modern context that resonates more than the rest of the movie's "subtext" (i.e. a Muzak version of "Don't Worry, Be Happy" over the mall's PA, or naming its Starbucks-like coffee kiosk Hallowed Grounds). Fan-satiating cameos aside, Snyder has assembled a solid cast, but kudos go to Sarah Polley, who gives the proceedings credibility with her strong portrayal of the female lead, and Ving Rhames, whose grit also helps ground the film in reality.
But DAWN's also got its share of problems, and I'm not referring to its upgraded fast zombies (me, I didn't have a problem with them, I thought they were a natural cinematic progression). Despite getting to the mall much quicker than the original, the new version completely misses the point of a self-made mini-utopia. Even if Snyder wasn't interested in satirizing consumerism, he neglects the potential of the material wish-fulfillment implicit in its premise, grist which would've been perfect for a big-budget studio film. DAWN also rehashes many zombie tropes--the infection is spread through bites, shoot 'em in the head to kill them--as if they're new, though to the film's target audience, they probably are. (Pardon me as I cringe a little.)
I'd pin DAWN's biggest flaw on the size of its cast. Snyder populates his mall with more players, supplying a bigger cross-section of society, but most of these peripheral characters feel like dead weight, sending the plot into several unneeded digressions (such as a maudlin scene involving a bitten Matt Frewer). Even though it runs roughly ten minutes shorter than the original, the new DAWN feels much longer.
If the 2004 version has any edge over its predecessor, I'd say it's with its ending. Not that I'm faulting Romero, who I felt brought a suitable closure to his story, but I did like how Snyder suggested the feel-good, studio-approved denouement many of us feared, then slipped us a downbeat coda over its end credits. This sequence, with its rapid editing and barrage of gruesome images, left me feeling somewhat sucker-punched.
(Special thanks to Dustin Stewart for his assistance with this blog.)
And when the film finally premiered we shuffled into our local multiplexes like the condemned headed to the gallows, visions of the PSYCHO and THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE remakes hanging overhead. Yet when the house lights went up at the end of the film you could hear a collective sigh of relief and bemused surprise.
Holy shit, that wasn't bad at all. Pretty damn good, even.
I exaggerate, of course, but if there was ever a movie that benefited greatly from zero expectations it was Zack Snyder's 2004 remake of DAWN OF THE DEAD. It benefited so much that all it took was a second viewing to demote it from "horror classic of the new millennium" to "not-bad studio fright film." While I still think it's a decent picture, with a little critical perspective it's quite easy to see the flaws in this well-made but shallow Hollywood product.
After an incredible prologue to get the story rolling (I've come to find that the earliest stages of an undead epidemic, as characters realize the severity of their situation and are forced to adapt, is my favorite part of apocalyptic-styled zombie films), it becomes clear that the new-and-improved DAWN is trading the original's pitch-black satire for slick Hollywood escapism. It succeeds in large part because it respects Romero's source material, even if his based-on credit lasts for all of a half-second. And though Snyder keeps a tight rein on the flashy excesses that mar most commercial directors' feature debuts, credit largely belongs to James Gunn's script (which is fair, since a lot of us blamed Gunn for ruining everything before the film came out).
Fans of the original got thrown bones in the form of cameos from Tom Savini, Scott Reininger, and Ken Foree; while it's a treat to see each of them, only the latter emerges as more than a gimmicky snippet. Foree gets to repeat his famous "When there's no more room in Hell" line, this time as a Falwell-esque condemnation of non-Christian lifestyles, a modern context that resonates more than the rest of the movie's "subtext" (i.e. a Muzak version of "Don't Worry, Be Happy" over the mall's PA, or naming its Starbucks-like coffee kiosk Hallowed Grounds). Fan-satiating cameos aside, Snyder has assembled a solid cast, but kudos go to Sarah Polley, who gives the proceedings credibility with her strong portrayal of the female lead, and Ving Rhames, whose grit also helps ground the film in reality.
But DAWN's also got its share of problems, and I'm not referring to its upgraded fast zombies (me, I didn't have a problem with them, I thought they were a natural cinematic progression). Despite getting to the mall much quicker than the original, the new version completely misses the point of a self-made mini-utopia. Even if Snyder wasn't interested in satirizing consumerism, he neglects the potential of the material wish-fulfillment implicit in its premise, grist which would've been perfect for a big-budget studio film. DAWN also rehashes many zombie tropes--the infection is spread through bites, shoot 'em in the head to kill them--as if they're new, though to the film's target audience, they probably are. (Pardon me as I cringe a little.)
I'd pin DAWN's biggest flaw on the size of its cast. Snyder populates his mall with more players, supplying a bigger cross-section of society, but most of these peripheral characters feel like dead weight, sending the plot into several unneeded digressions (such as a maudlin scene involving a bitten Matt Frewer). Even though it runs roughly ten minutes shorter than the original, the new DAWN feels much longer.
If the 2004 version has any edge over its predecessor, I'd say it's with its ending. Not that I'm faulting Romero, who I felt brought a suitable closure to his story, but I did like how Snyder suggested the feel-good, studio-approved denouement many of us feared, then slipped us a downbeat coda over its end credits. This sequence, with its rapid editing and barrage of gruesome images, left me feeling somewhat sucker-punched.
(Special thanks to Dustin Stewart for his assistance with this blog.)
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