It's difficult to reconcile the Zack Snyder who directed "Dawn of the Dead" with the Zack Snyder who brought us the #SnyderCut of "Justice League," the too accurate "Watchmen" adaptation, and the style-over-substance duo of "300" and "Sucker Punch."The 2004 remake, directed by Zack Snyder and inspired on the 1978 original by George Romero, does not lack flare, though. The initial twelve minutes are a career-launching onslaught, featuring one of the genre's best opening title sequences. Due to the prominence of quick zombies in both films, many people compare "Dawn of the Dead" to "28 Days Later" by Danny Boyle. This prologue gives an excellent energetic contrast to the image.
The rest of "Dawn of the Dead" doesn't live up to the first few minutes, but the script by "Guardians of the Galaxy" director-to-be James Gunn keeps things interesting. It should be said that remaking a masterpiece was a recipe for disaster (something Snyder would do again when he took on Alan Moore's work and the whole DC universe), but by ignoring Romero's social commentary, Snyder was able to carve out his own corner of the zombie movie universe.
He hopes to return to this genre area in 2021 with Netflix's "Army of the Dead."
The action takes place in a post-apocalyptic zombie wasteland brought about by the unknown street drug known as "Natas." As the story progresses, we follow one guy as he hunts Flesh Eaters for fun and atonement while also attempting to escape his past.
After colliding with a small group of survivors who are quickly running out of resources, he decides to aid them. A surprise attack by the flesh-eating Flesh Eaters forces them to run and tests the talents of the Hunter.
Zombie Hunter seems to be a satisfyingly nasty B-movie — after all, who doesn't like to watch Danny Trejo fight swarms of zombies in slow motion? Director K. King looks to be aiming for a Machete/Planet Terror-style grindhouse atmosphere, so we're looking forward to seeing how it pans out. With the beautiful poster, the marketing team has surely nailed it.
In Little Monsters, Lupita Nyong'o, an actress known for her somber plays, takes on a more lighthearted character. She may be teaching a kindergarten class that meets a zombie outbreak while on a field trip, but it appears like she's having a blast. The 2019 movie was the actress's second foray into the horror genre that year (the first being Jordan Peele's more well-known "Us").
But I'm certain she'll be able to manage it. "Dedicated to all the kindergarten instructors who encourage children to study, instill confidence in them, and rescue them from being devoured by zombies," according to the official press materials. And I believe that's all there is to it. In "Little Monsters," Alexander England plays an effete, has-been musician in love (or maybe lust) with Lupita Nyong'o, and Josh Gad plays an obnoxious, well-known child entertainer.It's a horror-romantic comedy mix that energizes both genres.
Since then, the zombie outbreak hasn't showed any signs of abating. (It is said that a few of them have even picked up running.) Although "The Walking Dead" is the most obvious example, zombies have appeared in everything from discovered footage movies (like "REC") to romantic comedies (like "Warm Bodies") to homages to the classics (like "The Walking Dead") (Planet Terror).
Meanwhile, a worldwide subgenre developed in response to Romero's writings.
Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror maestro, grabbed the concept and ran with it in his own unique style, producing the bizarre and experimental "Gates of Hell" trilogy and the sequel Zombi 2 (also known as Zombi). Many zombie films owe their existence to Fulci.
Fans of Romero's work, like directors Dan O'Bannon, Fred Dekker, and Stuart Gordon, built on what he had started. They messed with the genre's rules and tried out new ideas for what a zombie movie could be. After that, zombies lost popularity very quickly.
Outside of recurring horror sequels (Return of the Living Dead, Zombie), low-budget fright pictures, and the rare genre oddity (My Boyfriend's Back, Cemetery Man, and Dead Alive), the undead were no longer walking the earth.
Where else should we start? White Zombie was the first feature-length "zombie" horror film, as well as the first Hollywood popularization of Haitian voodoo zombies, decades before the current George Romero ghoul.
As a public domain classic in almost every cheapo collection of zombie flicks ever compiled, White Zombie is simple to get today—you can easily skip through its 67-minute length on YouTube if you wish. Only a year removed from Dracula and enjoying in his reputation as one of Universal's go-to horror actors, Bela Lugosi portrays a witch doctor who is literally dubbed "Murder" since the company was still a few years away from finding nuance at the time.
The Svengali-like Lugosi uses his various concoctions and powders to turn a betrothed young woman into a zombie in order to bind her to the will of a cruel plantation owner, and... well, it's fairly dry, wooden stuff. Predictably, the finest part is Bela Lugosi, but I guess you had to start somewhere. White Zombie was followed by a number of other Hollywood voodoo zombie films, the most of which are now freely accessible online.
Rob Zombie's musical output at the time also drew inspiration from the film. Some of the "best zombie movies" lists may include it prominently, but in 2016, the overwhelming majority of moviegoers aren't likely to find much enjoyment in a film like this. This item's high ranking is almost entirely attributable to the significance it has in history.
Planet Terror is the better half of Robert Rodriguez's Grindhouse double-bill with Quentin Tarantino. It's about a go-go dancer, a bioweapon gone wrong, and Texan villagers converted into pustulous monsters. Planet Terror embraces its B-movie origins with missing reels, rough cuts, and hammy overdubs.
In the end, the severed arm of Rose McGowan's character Cherry Darling is replaced with a machine gun in a ridiculously entertaining climax with lots of blood and oozing effects. Gather around, people, because I want to use your brains to grow mine.
Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead seems to include some of the hallmarks of a Troma picture. It'll be a heap of junk. It's going to be bloody. There will be no restrictions or regard for aesthetics. The real question, like with every other Troma film, is whether you find it boring. In this scenario, the correct answer is "absolutely not."
For a musical that is marketed as a "zom-com," if that makes any sense, the satire of consumer society is quite subtle. But why are you watching a movie about chickens that come back to life and take over a restaurant that looks like KFC and is built on a Native American burial ground? Don't believe that. To enjoy a Troma movie, you have to think that the violence, scatological jokes, and bad production are all part of the fun. You also have to like the thoughtless plot.
As a result, Poultrygeist is essentially 103 minutes of dirty, vile, obscene insanity.Despite the fact that zombie films have existed for more than 80 years (White Zombie was produced in 1932, and I Walked With a Zombie was published in 1943), the subgenre as we know it today did not emerge until 1968, when George A. Romero released Night of the Living Dead.
Night, an indie picture with a budget little around six figures, captivated spectators with its cryptic storyline, startling violence, progressive casting and social criticism, and, of course, its iconic hordes of gaunt, ravenous zombies. The greatest of Romero's five more Dead films, including Dawn of the Dead and Day of the Dead, are presented in this guide. Romero is considered the godfather of zombie films.
In spite of Night of the Living Dead's impact, it took some time for the picture to percolate and develop clout in the public's mind before a slew of notable American zombie films emerged in the late 1970s and early 1980s. Shock this link Waves may have been the first of all the "Nazi zombie" films, arriving just before Dawn of the Dead massively enhanced the appeal of zombies as horror adversaries.
The story concerns a group of shipwrecked people who end themselves on an undiscovered island where a sunken SS submarine has released its crew of zombies, as part of a Nazi experiment. In the same year that he sneered at Princess Leia in Star Wars: A New Hope, Hammer Horror great Peter Cushing makes a cameo as a miscast and addled-looking SS Commander? It doesn't seem to be doable.
There have been at least 16 Nazi zombie movies made since this point, which is certainly more than one might be aware of, which makes this one fairly significant at least for combining the portmanteau of great film villains for the first time. There have also been many more Nazi zombie movies made since this point than one might be aware of.
The Dead Snow movies have Shock Waves to thank for their success.
Colm McCarthy's adaptation of Mike Carey's book The Girl With All The Gifts is a brilliant and nuanced remake, with genre thrills to match.
In this instance, the zombie state is caused by a fungal infection reminiscent of The Last of Us, which has transformed the majority of the people into "hungries." The tale centres on Melanie, a young girl who is getting an unorthodox education in a highly guarded institution from Helen, played by Gemma Arterton.
Melanie is a "second-generation" hungry. She wants to eat human flesh, but she can also think and feel, and her very existence may hold the key to survival.
This gore-fest gives the typical zombie a Scandinavian twist by adding the Draugr, a legendary undead monster from Scandinavian mythology that is known for fiercely guarding its gold. In Dead Snow, these draugr are actually former SS soldiers who terrorized a small Norwegian town and stole from its people before being killed or driven into the snowy mountains.
Certainly, this earns Dead Snow uniqueness marks. It is also an extremely humorous, bloody, and satisfyingly violent film with aspects of Evil Dead and "teen sex/slasher" films. And if you enjoy it, there's more to come in Dead Snow: Red vs. Dead, the sequel.
The Dead Next Door is one of those rare occasions in which the film's backstory is probably more intriguing than the picture itself. Sam Raimi produced it with a fraction of the earnings from Evil Dead II so that his close buddy J. R. Bookwalter could create the low-budget zombie epic of his dreams. Raimi, for whatever reason, is listed as an executive producer under the moniker "The Master Cylinder," while Evil Dead's Bruce Campbell does double duty—not on screen, but as the voiceover for not one, but two characters, since the whole picture has been redubbed in post-production. Unsurprisingly, this gives The Dead Next Door a sense of dreamlike unreality, and that's before we even add that the whole picture was shot on Super 8 and not 32 mm film.
So, The Dead Next Door offers something that has never been seen before in this genre: a grainy, low-budget zombie action-drama with cringe-worthy amateur acting and surprising signs of polish.
The story is about a "elite team" of zombie killers who find a cult that worships zombies, but you don't watch this one for the plot, you watch it for the gore. The Dead Next Door seems to have been made just as a way to practice practical blood effects and beheadings. At times, it feels like a backyard attempt to copy the crazy bloodletting in Peter Jackson's Dead Alive, but with genre references that are so obvious you can't help but laugh. "Dr. Savini"? "Officer Raimi"? "Commander Carpenter"?All of them are in a zombie movie that seems like it was only meant for the director's family to watch. Still, there's something oddly charming about how close they are.
The journey of zombie movies to the big screen has been very interesting. For decades, the creatures didn't have much of a presence or definition outside of Voodoo legends, radioactive humanoids, and the unforgettable art of E.C. comics. Zombies weren't used very often, and when they were, they weren't like the flesh-eating, cannibalistic zombies we know and love today.
Cemetery Man (also known as Dellamorte Dellamore) is a weird, hallucinogenic journey directed by Dario Argento's student Michele Soavi, who presents the undead as more of an inconvenience than a dangerous threat. In Cemetery Man, a cinematic version of the comic book series Dylan Dog, Everett portrays Francesco Dellamorte, a misanthropic gravedigger who would rather be among the dead than with living people. Why wouldn't he, you could ask? Living people are jerks for propagating the lie that he is infertile.
The only catch is that the deceased will not remain buried in his cemetery. Dellamorte falls head over heels with a lovely widow (Falchi) at her husband's funeral, pursues her in the gloomy hallways of his ossuary, and before you know it, they're stripped naked and steaming it up on top of her dead husband's grave. That's just the beginning of the strangeness.