Critics have
universally credited Romero’s 1968 horror film as one of the genre’s
best-of-all-time. He would direct other
films over the next decade that would remain mostly obscure and unknown. In 1978 he would team with now legendary
special effects guru, Tom Savini for Dawn
of the Dead. This film would set the
zombie in motion towards its eventual place in the leading echelon of
monsterdom as the standard-bearer.
Like many fans
who would feel on inexplicable draw to the zombie, Dawn of the Dead touched something deep inside me. Much like the zombies in the film, once the
“infection” set in, there would be no cure.
Romero would become the Pied Piper to legions of devoted fans who would
treat his creation with an almost religious reverence.
Like most life
altering moments, I recall the date I fell prey: September 18, 1979. Dawn of
the Dead was the second film of a double-feature. I never recall seeing so much as a
commercial; thus, I had no idea what to expect.
From the opening moment when Gaylen Ross’ character, Francine, wakes
from an obvious nightmare to utter chaos in a television studio, the film sets
a barbed hook that won’t let go.
All fans have
that one seminal moment that etches the zombie in their mind as The Monster. My own personal moment takes place less than
fifteen minutes into the movie: Pandemonium reigns inside a Philadelphia
tenement building. National Guardsmen,
cops, residents, and zombies are everywhere.
Up to that point, the zombies were merely bluish, shambling, and
clumsy. In the midst of the turmoil, a
woman bursts out onto the landing outside her apartment door and into the arms
of a man she is apparently familiar with.
She clutches at his shirt, sobbing incoherently in Spanish. Police scream for her to get away. His bluish hue and vacant eyes are obvious to
everyone but this woman. With no emotion
or warning, the man takes a bite out of the woman right at the meaty part where
the neck and shoulder meet. The flesh tears away and there are actually
connective strands of skin that stretch until ripping free between the wound
and the zombie’s mouth. Blood wells up
in an unnaturally bright red; and as the woman screams, throwing up her hands
to defend herself, he takes another bite from her forearm. Then, bullets riddle his body...with no
effect! (Bet you thought it would be the scene with the helicopter lobotomy...didn'tcha?)
Until that
moment, I had considered The Exorcist to be the most horrifying,
truly scary film ever made. However,
Romero’s Dawn of the Dead held me
transfixed. His apocalyptic vision and Savini’s imagery were
spell-binding. At the moment, like most
who witness history being made, I was unaware that I was seeing the rise of a
horror icon. No zombie story since has
failed to pay homage to the dual Adams of Romero and Savini.
This film would
establish the zombie as the perfect monster.
The zombie would exemplify the horror formula. Being a member of the undead, it could not be
considered human. Because it looked like
friends and loved ones it could get close enough to wield damage and this
spread the “infection”. It possessed a
fatal weakness: damaging the brain was the only method of destruction. It could be used to display human flaws and
evils. The zombie gave horror purists a
bona fide monster.
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