A passionate and (nearly) complete compendium from an emotionally invested fanatic.
Zombie
Movies: The Ultimate Guide (Chicago
Review Press) works as a channel to bring like-minded enthusiasts together. You
can read between the lines to discern that the author, Glenn Kay, had an
emotionally charged time spending red-eyed nights reviewing almost every zombie
film in existence. He gives special credit to Night of the Living Dead (1968) for reviving zombie
films in general, and midnight horror shows in particular, to this day. The
author also credits the book The Serpent and the Rainbow (1988) as “a much needed
reminder of where the Zombie came from.” What he means is that the earliest
zombie movies of the 1930s were historically accurate, at least in that they
took place in Haiti
and their principal characters were exploited on the coffee or sugar
plantations. By the 1960s, the definition of zombie came to mean a more
generic living-dead, sometimes flesh-eating, sometimes possessing other
stomach-turning traits, but seldom viewed within a larger social context. I
missed the film version of The Serpent and the Rainbow, but I did read
the memoir by Wade Davis, who was disgusted by the way his book was portrayed
onscreen and retreated to Borneo,
mortified. I’m not sure what he expected, as Wes Craven was the film’s
director. In all fairness, a non-fiction work like The Serpent and the
Rainbow would be challenging to translate to screen, especially when
sensationalism is the thing that sells. There’s no question that by the 1990s, zombie films were
once again being given a more thought-provoking treatment. This renewed
sensibility, in the words of Steve Newton, writing in the Georgia Straight,
deserves credit “for bringing braininess to the zombie genre—as opposed to just
brain eating.” Two films that did not make it to Kay’s checklist are Ubaldo Ragona’s
Last Man on Earth with Vincent Price (1964) and Herk Harvey’s Carnival of
Souls with Candace Hilligoss (1962). These two masterpieces must have influenced the
author’s hero, George Romero. Both films include chilling scenes in which the
undead pursue and surround the main character—Romero repeatedly paid homage to
these in Night of the Living Dead. Less subjectively, I noted three
factual errors on Kay’s part, which I’ll mention for other aficionados. First,
in his mention of Robot Monster (1953), he says the monster’s getup is a gorilla suit and a
robot head, but upon closer inspection, it’s a gorilla suit and a diver’s
helmet, an observable distinction. Second, he says William Castle’s last film
was Shanks (1974), but in fact Castle made one more film, Bug (1975). (That’s a shame,
too, for Castle’s oeuvre may have been more impeccable had he stopped at Shanks.)
Finally, he says Rabid was David Cronenberg’s second film, after Frissons,
but Cronenberg completists out there will know that Rabid was actually
his fourth film (Stereo and Crimes of the Future were the first
two). Apart from these hypercritical points, Zombie Movies, with its
contagious passion and extensive research, is entitled to top rating.