Sunday, August 20, 2006

Book of the Dead: The Complete History of Zombie Cinema

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Considering the seemingly unquenchable thirst for all things zombie over the last few years, it’s been surprising to me that this publication, Book of the Dead: The Complete History of Zombie Cinema by Jamie Russell, has managed to escape the kind of rabid reverence that, say, The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks has. I suspect that, for the majority of people who say they like zombie movies, their real interest is rather limited to a handful of new, slick looking films, and have a preference for fiction only; other zombie films (and there are hundreds of them) pique little interest, and certainly books chronicling them don’t fair as well either. This is a real shame, because this book does such a wonderful and thorough job (certainly the most thorough to date) at registering for posterity the evolution of the subgenre.

Book of the Dead, in a way, picks up where Peter Dendle left off in the introduction to his Zombie Movie Encyclopedia. In that, the books might seem like complimentary backwards twins—Dendle provides us with a brief history and criticism of the subgenre—which was desperately neglected up to that point—and then goes on to do what the title suggests; provide us with an almost encyclopedic account of zombie films from 1932 to 1998. His history is revealing, but regrettably short, in that it was not the primary focus of the book. Russell’s book is like Dendle’s book, flipped. There is a filmography of zombie films in the back, giving each film a short personal comment, positive or negative. The body of the book, however, is focused singularly with recording and relaying the history of the subgenre. Both books are essential and neither detracts from the other.

In addition to the laying out of the undead record, Russell’s text displays a fair amount of cinematic criticism that dabbles in all areas that might affect a zombie movie, including social commentary and historicism, taking into account various themes as racism, sexism, economics, and more. That is not to say that the book is passage upon passage of thick, perplexing, academic-like blathering. Quite the opposite; while Russell educates us on the specifics, he engages us with a down to earth dialog flavored with intellectual analysis and peppered with a healthy sense of humor—a must when reading on this subject.

Another aspect in Russell’s approach to writing Book of the Dead is his unusual insistence in covering that which most fans either know about but aren’t very familiar with, or that they don’t know at all. While Russell covers all the basic zombie staples, and spends significant time exploring them, he doesn’t neglect those films that, while intriguing in their own right, seem to fall by the wayside in light of, say, the Romero Dead films. These films, though they may be popular among hardcore fans, seem to have escaped real noteworthy consideration up until now. For one who reads a lot of zombie-related texts—inevitably reading the same information about the same films over and over—this is enormously welcome. Titles privy to this treatment include Sugarhill, The Plague of the Zombies, Shock Waves, Shanks, and The Serpent and the Rainbow, among others. In some cases, Russell might spend a few paragraphs, and in others, a few pages—the point is that he recognizes these films as important enough in the subgenre for more than just the sideways glance that most who cover these films give them.

The service that is truly provided in this book is that it is as up to date as one could ask for, considering the recent, and possibly unexpected, zombie boom we’ve experienced. What was once a landscape belonging primarily to those happy few who felt a true affinity for these films became dominated—for better or for worse—by a popularity unprecedented in the subgenre. Up until that point, from Dendle’s Encyclopedia to Gagne’s Zombies that Ate Pittsburgh to Slater’s Eaten Alive!, didn’t we pretty much know the score? Suddenly, we’re accosted by a handful of decent, legitimate films, and sadly, a barrage of Hollywoodized fodder and backyard trash—and they came, one after the other, barely giving us time to catch our breath, let alone contemplate where they really came from and how such a thing happened.

And here’s where Russell steps in. Here is an account of the last few years, covering the fruition of the new zombie, from the Resident Evil Games and films, 28 Days Later, Dawn ’04, Shaun of the Dead, and Land of the Dead. Though little attention is paid to the ultra-low budget jobs (and thankfully, really), we are lead through a chronology that allows us to view the culmination as a whole, putting it into factual perspective. For those who have read extensively on the subgenre before, some of what is in here you’ll know. But, you know not everything—this book is full of interesting little tidbits and insights that will likely be of some illumination to even the most well-read fan or scholar, especially the closer the book moves towards the present state of affairs.

In addition to being informative, enlightening, and simply a great read, Book of the Dead is also an extremely attractive publication. Sporting a fun title adaptation of a promo poster for Fulci’s City of the Living Dead on the front cover and the famous moldering zombie from Andrea Bianchi’s Burial Ground on the back cover, Book of the Dead is also chocked full of over 300 stills, posters, and promo photos. It features two tantalizing color blocks of splendid zombirific images (totaling 62 pages of the book’s 311 pages).

I highly recommend this book. If you’re just a passing fan of zombies because you like how they run and jump, and the awesome film soundtracks, then maybe you don’t care about this book. But, if you’re a true fan of the subgenre, and see yourself being so long after the current craze has died away (and I imagine you are, really, if you’re reading this), then make some room amongst your other zombie books by Dendle, Slater, and Davis—you’ll definitely want to add this.

Review by Kriscinda Meadows.

Please check out our accompanying interview with author Jamie Russell.

Gospel of the Dead: George Romero's Visions of Hell on Earth

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Kim Paffenroth’s Gospel of the Dead: George Romero’s Visions of Hell on Earth, despite not being a particularly difficult read, has turned out to be a difficult book to review. If you’re basing whether or not you want to read it solely on its title, you might find yourself a little misled. Written by a theology professor in the Department of Religious Studies at Iona College, a Catholic university, and published by Baylor University Press, a Baptist academy (part of whose mission is “to serve the academic community by producing works of excellent quality that integrate faith and understanding”)—this book is clearly a theological work but only seems so peripherally. The book is made up of an Introduction, a Conclusion, and five chapters in between, each dedicated to a particular film; each chapter contains a synopsis of the film, analysis, and conclusion.

Paffenroth spends a lot of time analyzing sexism and racism (touching briefly on homophobia in Chapter 4) from a socio-psycho analytical perspective. He occasionally refers to these unfortunate human tendencies in the faith-based language of “sinful” and talks about things “divine.” But other than that, you could read about 85% of this book and not think twice about religion. And then he hits you with it, and if you’re not what he calls a “believer” in the Christian sense, frankly, you might feel a little uncomfortable, if not downright insulted. Many of the arguments made against rationalism and for faith could be easily flipped and made against faith and for rationalism, but much of the thrust of the religious criticism is based on pointing out all that is bad with logic and reason, and insisting that the problems that we face with our human faults and difficulties can somehow be solved through faith.

For example, in the first chapter that covers Night of the Living Dead, while we can all acknowledge that due to the characters’ inability to conquer these regrettable natural vices we all have, the characters are equally unable to come together and succeed against seemingly insurmountable odds. Paffenroth assumes that the characters (and assuming other residents of the area trapped in their own houses and attempting to get to rescue stations) basically put all of their eggs in the basket of reason, and therefore, they all die in the end. These characters bickered with each other and were guilty of the sins of pride, vanity, greed, domination, anger, hatred, etc. What isn’t provided is an alternative vision of what the film would have been if based entirely on faith. Instead of people who rely on logic for their survival, let’s make each character a church-goer—but to make it realistic, let’s make them members of different Christian denominations. Now, do we still think that faith will bring these people together and they will somehow survive? Or is physical survival not the point? The book fails to point out how faith would have made for a different conclusion. Though Paffenroth says that religion doesn’t promise physical safety, the general populace of “believers” mostly don’t feel that way, as shown in various tragic disasters. Hundreds may die, but survivors will credit God for their personal physical safety through a “miracle.” So, in those more practical terms, how exactly could faith have saved the characters in Night? To say that the characters were unable to act in a decent, moral manner due to their lack of faith is quite assumptive and completely rules out the facts of morality through means other than faith. Yes, people of reason act badly, but as history has shown us, so do people of faith.

In addition to the failure to take reality into account, Paffenroth also refrains from giving all the important details in some cases. In the case of Ben in Night, he accuses him of not wanting to go into the basement because he is proud of the work he’s done at boarding up windows and doors—hence he’s guilty of being vain. When I watch the film, I can clearly see (and hear in his argument with Cooper) that he doesn’t want to go into the cellar because it is a “death trap”—there’s no Plan B, no back-up escape route. Not the same thing at all. Similarly, he describes Kenneth in Dawn ‘04 as being callous for no reason other than a strong sense of individualism—not wanting to help out the group. It’s not until he has comprehensively defamed Kenneth in this way that Paffenroth off-handedly throws in, much, much later, the reality that this character was indeed looking for his brother, making him decidedly un-individualistic, unselfish, and while he might still be viewed in the beginning as callous, it is not for the reasons stated by Paffenroth.

These are a few examples as to how Paffenroth’s perspective, if being read from a secular perspective, might be difficult to swallow. This is not to say that the book isn’t worth reading, for much of the scrutiny, socially and psychologically, is quite good. Paffenroth bases much of his reading on previous scholarship on the films of Romero, and in that sense, some of it may not be new to the reader. That being said, there are few places one can look to find these thoughts laid out in such detail. Furthermore, Paffenroth’s analogous comparisons with Dante’s Inferno are as interesting as they are relevant, and for the most part, thankfully presented in a way that can be appreciated by both “believers” and non-believing students of literature and popular culture, which, to me, is what academic scholarship should be.

Gospel of the Dead can be contradictory in the sense that on one hand, the author champions the virtues of women’s rights, the rights of minorities, and their value in society (he even, contrary to what some secularists might find to be stereotypical Christian behavior, goes so far as to condemn homophobia), while on the other hand he downplays the benefits and good works of those who base their life and moral compasses on something other than religious doctrine. While women should be treated equally, and should have the autonomy to make the decision to have a child (as in Fran in Dawn ’78), he downplays any sense that women might equally have the autonomous right to terminate an unwanted pregnancy and control their own bodies. With these things in mind, when you open this book, you should be prepared for wonderful, insightful, and interesting analysis couched within a loose theological framework that, in the end, berates reason without faith, and certainly doesn’t entertain the idea that one can be good, and moral, without having to submit to any particular religion, especially Christianity. This makes Gospel of the Dead, while interesting and insightful in some areas, clearly written for a certain audience—Christians.

On another note, what makes the title particularly misleading, in my opinion, is that gives the impression that this is purely a study of director George Romero’s vision. Much of it is. However, the 2004 Dawn of the Dead remake is given its own chapter, whereas the 1990 Night of the Living Dead remake is not considered at all. The reason given for this is that the Night remake is practically identical to the original and doesn’t offer anything new to consider. This is surprising; most critics have observed numerous differences, some of them fundamental. Considering Paffenroth’s primary focus on sexism and racism, Night ’90 offers up significant material in these areas, especially when compared to the original, which is not only vastly different, but is from another time and, therefore, context. Here we are able to explore Barbara’s new role as a strong, gun-toting woman who is in control (indeed, the lone survivor), as opposed to the catatonic Barbara of the original, who succumbs to her own zombified brother after spending most of the film staring into space and playing with doilies. Also, in terms of racism, the relationship between Ben and Barbara can now be surveyed in the context of interracial relationships (romantic or otherwise) in the 1990’s, as opposed what was generally acceptable in the struggling Civil Rights era of the 1960’s. It seems to me that there is a lot to discover in these terms when considering Night ’90, and the movie is actually quite different than the original.

What Night ’90 does have in common with Romero’s other films which Dawn ’04 does not is an actual, direct connection with Romero himself. George Romero wrote and produced the Night remake, which, in my mind, makes this film closer to Romero’s creation and thus a continuation of the zombie mythos in evolutionary terms. The Dawn remake—though rife with very interesting commentary and analysis—is only very tenuously connected with Romero himself, or even the original film. The chapter on the Dawn remake, regardless of the film’s detachment from Romero’s direct influence, is still a very worthy chapter—its examination of the film is interesting and in many aspects, poignant. These positive attributes, however, don’t make it any more Romero’s work than Shaun of the Dead or any other film influenced by Romero (which is most zombie movies) could be, and would serve better as a separate piece. It would be my suggestion to cover Night, Dawn ’78, Day, Night ’90, and Land if one wanted to stay true to the title of the book, and completely faithful to Romero’s vision.

These criticisms, as I’ve stated before, do not make the book worthless, as it has many merits in the areas of social and psychological commentary. It’s written in a style that makes it accessible to fan’s and not just fellow professors, and can very easily spark off the average fans very real ability to carry out his or her own analysis of these films. However, the majority of average fans that love these films and know them well enough to partake and participate in this kind of deep thinking about them, according to a survey I recently conducted, are not particularly religious. While they lean prominently in the direction of non-racist, non-sexist, and non-homophobic in comparison to your average American, they do so based on morals either not connected with, or very loosely associated with, the Christian faith. Not all…just most. Because of that, some of the conclusions made throughout Gospel of the Dead in regards to secular thinkers might not come across as agreeable.

Review by Kriscinda Meadows.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Jesus Freaks (je'zus freks), n. see ZOMBIE by Andre Duza

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

I must admit to having a little beef with that fellow, Jesus.

It’s probably because my childhood, most of which was spent in a small Irish town, once referred to as ’The Alabama Of The North’, riddled with all shades of fundamentalist christian churches, veering from the very black-and-white to the slightly-less-black-and-white-but-still-pretty-fucking-grim. Twice weekly, I found myself suffering hellfire doom-and-gloom and dreary renditions of old, archaic hymns in our family place of worship. There, my little ears were bombarded with stories of people who were one prayer short of glory, waking amidst the flames of hell, crying for just one more chance… And by fuck, was that scary biscuits when you were all of nine years old!

Such were the building blocks of my youth, leading this little reviewer to scurry quickly to the Big Smoke, at the age of eighteen, to a world with a little more grey and frey around the edges. I quickly forsook the horror stories of my youth for a much more palatable kind, that of the Stephen Kings and George Romeros of this world.

So when Andre Duza made noises about his new release, Jesus Freaks, I was excited from two perspectives. Firstly, I absolutely adored the wall-of-death-fairground-ride that was his debut novel, Dead Bitch Army (Haven’t read it yet? Geez, why not?!) and the Indie Gods chapbook starring the same character, her Royal Scariness, Bloody Mary. After reading those little gems, anything the man Duza was releasing was certainly going to be greedily devoure!

Secondly, what with the rotting bone I had to pick with everyone’s ‘favourite’ messiah, Jesus (unless you’re Muslim, or Jewish, or Hindu, or Atheist, or me etc. etc. etc.) I was quite intrigued to see what Duza was all about with this one…

I should have guessed, of course…

Not content with one Jesus, Duza introduces his latest tale of woe with two Jesuses-s-s-s (Jesui?), miraculously unleashed on an unsuspecting world, doused in bloody rain and plagued by a spat of folk-rising-from-the-dead. Duza’s principal Jesus hails from the US of A, blonde and blue-eyed, the type favoured by folk like deputy villan of the piece, Rev. Jesse James Dallas. The other …er… Jesus, is found in none other than war-torn Iraq, sporting more of a Middle Eastern pallor, and going by the title of Yeshua. As to how these two prospective messiahs fit into a zombie story would be to spoil the piece, somewhat, save to say that they do. And do very well…

Duza’s Jesus Freaks is a very odd novel, and little fits together quite as you suspect it. There are more twists and turns in the storyline than a sliced-open-intestine, leading the reader through a collage of graphic and gloriously described scenes of gore-stained mayhem, starring characters so comic-book that you can almost see the speech bubbles submerged within the print.

Boy-done-good-anti-hero, Kane, at first seems like the classic bad-ass cop, renowned for getting things done his way (a way which seems a little unorthodox in his 2015 New World) but soon learns to channel this fervour within a society fending off an ever-threatening plague of zombies. Streetwise Jason Williamson, at first appears to be your everyday gang-weary, North Philly kid, before he too is lured into the madness of Duza’s plot, mixing all kinds of chaos up as he crosses paths with Kane.

Duza certainly pulls no punches as he pounds home his latest horror, introducing and manipulating each character with ease, as the zombie tide continues to rise…

As the zombies get their airtime, I begin to wonder if their ever-worrying presence is a parody of how the Western world deals with its poorer residents, or alternatively, a reflection of the simple, blind-faith mindset of those converts flocking to the new millenium Jesus, and his glitzy showbiz miracles…

(Or both? Or neither?)

… But to be absolutely honest, I soon forget about the social commentary that most definitely peeks its head above the covers, in most Duza output, and just get stuck into the blood-and-guts shotgun-pumping goodness of scene upon scene of headshot hoo-haa.

As the novel progresses, shifting curiously from one character to another, the two Jesus-us (JESUI?!) clocking up their respective followers, sporting very different agendas, you might begin to wonder if Duza has the makings of an epic here, a series that could have spawned across a trilogy of novels, perhaps, as opposed to being mixed together in this one outing. Some characters, and perhaps concepts, might seem to get lost within the maze, perhaps taking one twist too many? One might be guilty of wishing, at times, for the constant eloquent explosion, that is Duza’s writing style, to be reined in a little, if only to give a little bit of downtime before the next perfectly choreographed episode is frogmarched across the page. For others, the feverous pace and high-pitched action will be just the ticket, splashed delightfully between Duza’s usual guest list of quality artists’ impressions of the action, lending a definite movie-feel to proceedings.

Yet, few would find themselves not enjoying Jesus Freaks…

To call Andre Duza an author would be like calling Icelandic banshee, Bjork, a singer. It somehow falls short of describing exactly what Duza achieves with a book like Jesus Freaks. As a follow-up to Dead Bitch Army, Jesus Freaks sings gloriously of what pearly gates are in store for him, and has the rest of us all guessing just how the feck he can reach any further beyond our dark, horror-hungry imaginations. For some, me included, Dead Bitch Army will prove that little bit more accessible, and perhaps a better starting point for the Duza initiate…

… But for most, Jesus Freaks should be a pool of blood-soaked zombie goodness for every self-respecting fan of horror literature to dip their pinkies into. Duza does what he sets out to do, tearing up the zombie cliché with a delightful combo of gore, wit and imagination that should appeal to every forward-thinking fan of horror.

And in true comic-book style, ‘nuff said…

Review by Wayne Simmons (aka Spiral)