The Returned
Overall Recommendation
Recommendation?
Wow. Fucking wow. Um… I don’t want to go to far into anything specific ‘cause this is that good. It’s admittedly NOT a great zombie movie. But it’s a great movie with zombies in it. This… Shit. I’m sitting back, happily in awe. This is a new take on post-zombie-apocalypse world. It’s an imaginary setting, since I really can’t see humans being this empathetic no matter how irrational an idea it is, but this sets up a believable reality with characters that you come to CARE about, and even when shit kinda gets foreshadowed and you have an inkling of what’s coming up, the characters sort of put their own twist on things, leaving you stepping back just a bit like a spectator cringing “Oh, DAMN!”. This is a movie with a lot of talking, a lot of feelings, no car chases to speak of, and not that much zombie violence. It’s also quite civilized, in a Romanesque sort of betray your friends way. If you have a significant other who likes (or even tolerates) the genre, watch this movie with them. I honestly paused it and reached out to my wife twice during it. To keep ratio in perspective, I made 3 trips to the fridge and two trips to the sink for grapes too, so… there is that to be taken as you will. If you have someone who does not like the genre but has a brain, this is also a movie to share with them- it’s like if you’re not a shark-attack kinda person, but you can always appreciate Deep Blue Sea. God, I shouldn’t mention that movie along with this one. This movie is as smart as the addition of LL Cool J into DBS was dumb. This is not an action movie, this is not a horror movie, this is not a pew-pew-pew-pew-ratta-tatta-slow-motion “Nooooooooooooo!” extravaganza. This is a movie about love, and fear, and desperation, and all the things you can do if you have a sound-proof room.
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- Listen up, ‘cause here’s the situation: Zombies exist, but a green shot keeps them human
- As usual, society is not exactly thrilled with having something different and dangerous around
- Alex comes out to his friends about being a Returned- a zombie who takes shots to not take lives
- What’s that you say? There is a finite and quickly diminishing supply of the green shots?
- What’s that you say? Your friends just killed you? (Metaphorically speaking) (For now)
- What’s that you say? You got jeffried? Me too!
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
So, here’s the thing. The zombie apocalypse has happened, and millions of people died, and then they got a handle on it- even through a couple different waves of uprisings. Science found a protein that can pause one’s zombification, so IF you get treated within 36 hours of infection AND you’re lucky- meaning- you don’t get too fucked up as you’re infected- you can become one of The Returned. These are essentially normal people like you and me, but if they miss their daily dose of green shot, then they turn into ravenous zombies. For some reason, society has decided to let these Returned people live out in general populace, where the hard reality is that we’re already past this level of caring for people socially. In other words, if people were trying to send people from Turkey to internment camps after 9/11, imagine what would happen if there really were a marginalized group of people this dangerous? I think this movie paints one hell of a rosy picture about how things would be. I think lynchings would be best case, and I don’t think you’d find this many champions around who agreed that the honor system was adequate safeguard against a third zombie outbreak. Um. Very traditional zombies, though. They can’t play guitar. They want to eat you. They don’t respect the sanctity of white half-circles.
Where the money went
Where the money went
Gold stars all around. Not one thing felt out of place. The acting was fucking amazing, the script jeffried me, the special effects, although used sparingly, were top line. This is a great movie that has zombies in it. Phew. Everything was well done. I am but a simple country zombie movie critic, and it’s only my humble opinion that I venture to offer here, but I think the zombie dial could have been turned from 2 up to 4. Maybe 4? Without breaking the subtle electricity. 4 may be reaching it, as we are talking about a music teacher here. The soul of Rick Moranis and that dude from Coldplay’s good looks. But we could have at least gone one more click up. We could have gotten a couple more zombie-moments. We could have seen a bit more of the breakdown of society. I’m not complaining in the least- please don’t get me wrong. This is a superb work of art. I’m just that guy who always wonders “Yeah, but could it be louder?”.
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
Overall, people don’t kill zombies. Or rather, zombies don’t kill people, ‘cause they’ve taken their green shot and are just regular people now. So- there was a lot of person-on-person violence, but not that much humans killing zombies sort. This was an adult version of “The evil that men can do”; meaning, it really was about treachery and betrayal, not just a bunch of guys in camo trying to make harem-slaves out of the last clean 12-year-old girls on the planet. This is fucking Shakespeare, people! Relatively speaking when compared to the rest of the genre.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
There’s really not that much tradition here, since the whole façade is that they’re normal people. So the nods to tradition were more in the banter between the characters- especially the riffing while watching the Bela Lugosi movie. The chaining himself up system kinda reminded me of Day of The Dead, too, but loosely. The hand that I’m going to give is a standing and clapping kinda one. Shit gripped me the way the Bourne series does, yet this has a tinge of zombie adding a BLAM of zest.
That was new!
That was new!
This whole movie is a genre-twist that kicks out the jams, motherfuckers. I’ve never seen this intelligent a take on this variation of the genre, if that makes any sense. This is new territory, like the pod thingys in Girl With All The Gifts, or… I don’t know. Something else that was amazingly cool the first time it really got pulled off correctly. This is one of the best representations of how humans dealing with frightening and unpleasant change will act- erratically murderous. Selfishly. Illogically. This is a slow-burn of perpetually increasing tension that truly connects with that part of your stomach that says “I’m not *positive* what’s going to happen, but it’s not going to be good…”
Review Notes
Review Notes
Hmm… May not be in English?
Oh. That’s bad.
We’re starting off with… a murder-suicide?
Zombie! Good one!
Mom! Zombie! Dead! Run!!
Hospital… Parents not allowed to go with their sick kid.
Eyebrows. Abs. Ugly house.
Got dinner plans for tomorrow. And I think she’s pregnant? I… there’s something wrong with him? Is this Alex?
Signs, signs, everywhere it’s signs…
I’m gonna name her Stern.
Well, now she’s smiling.
Returned Unit. I think these are the ex-zombies?
Oh! Shit! That kid is a zombie!
Or, wait… there’s another kid.
“Becoming one of The Returned is a privilege, not a curse.” Sanctimonious crap.
Oh… well… People make “The Returned” jokes like they used to make _______ jokes when I was a kid.
Well. That’s not ok. That’s a lot worse than some ignorant generalizations.
So, Alex is both a guitarist and a zombie?
We got anti-returned protesters outside the hospital. I assume they’re anti-returned. I’m not… positive that I’d… feel differently.
And now shit’s all creepy… Oh. Shit. Black-Market… something. Being sold out of the hospital’s stock.
They’re hoarding doses. They’ve got… a couple months’ worth.
The friend’s wife is an author and going on book tour.
Death is inconceivable. I think I dig it.
4 months. This… is… a tumor.
That’s some fucked up logic. “He ends up in the ground like everyone else.”
A flashback. About a guitar. Some sort of pawn shop.
Bells never summon good things.
Dude at the bottom of the stairs… seizure? No, he’s a biter.
“It was just a scratch. But sometimes small things can grow.”
HAAAAA!!! A spine tattoo!! I hope it’s a Gandhi quote.
Our backstory is complete. Not sure the friends took it all that well?
We’re acutely aware of every time Alex wipes his nose or whatever. Any sign of him being sick.
So, everyone gets a month supply at a time?
Slingshot? Kid, I kinda like your style, but only if it’s ‘cause you can’t get your hands on a gun yet.
36 hour window.
Bad zombie. 100 million deaths world-wide.
“The inevitable 2nd outbreak.”
A Returned is someone who got the treatment within 36 hours of being infected.
We’re looking for a synthetic protein?
Who is this bloated tub? “There are alternatives.” Oh, that sounds bad.
“Why don’t we get rid of the obese while we’re at it? I mean, aside from costing us a whole lot of money, they’re really unsightly.”
The returned have big red bars on their IDs.
Whoah. Is he hallucinating his students?
That’s some Resident Evil plunger action. Nice.
Hospital security taking a break. That’s never a good sign.
Strange breaking sounds from down the hall. That’s never a good sign.
Wow! People with guns! Stealing IDs.
All in black. With identifying tattoos.
Big argument!
Running in slow motion!
Oh… Did they… yeah. Hospital massacre.
They killed all The Returned in the hospital while they were chained to their beds.
Uh… I… would definitely hesitate to do that. I admit, I’d discuss the notion.
So, this is just me being logical, but with those dozen or so Returned out of the picture, there’s a couple more doses for the remaining.
Oh. She dropped the plate. That scared the shit outta me.
Kate. That’s her name. Well. Well. Well.
I just missed something while I was admiring her mailboxes…
Down an alley, down a hallway… My sketch vibe is going off!
The hospital is running out- not being restocked.
Not a good thing to lie about. Now she’s got justification to screw you over.
Maybe… she’s a good guy after all. I am totally fucked when it comes to picking up on stuff like this.
But- the bad guys took all the info they need to identify all the returned.
Glasses that are only for looks? This is what’s wrong with the world. Why the fuck… People make no sense.
Drinking. I think that was a Judas hug.
Am I totally off my rocker tonight?
33 Bay Street is also 18 Harbor Street. Room 2401.
Oh, this doesn’t sound good!
That is going to be hard to clean. Alex just cut some dude’s throat. An assassin came for him. And failed.
“Get rid of this.” A gun? No! You keep the gun! You keep all guns! Unless… you’ve killed someone with one. Then you get rid of *that* one.
My wife and I need to get a suitcase that’s able to contain a body. Yes, she’s that cool.
Wow. They just threw it into a quarry to sink it. Everyone see that cat twitch right there? The universe is skipping in it’s groove! The variables are repeating too soon!
We got riots and fires and lynchings… Yeah, that’s people for you.
At a hotel… a red and blue startle…Why is she playing with the doses when they’re supposed to be kept refrigerated?
Greasy diner clandestine meetings!
The hospitals are being attacked.
The Returned have 3 days to go into a Surveillance Center. Which look a whole lot like reinforced prison compounds. I would have a hard time going into one of those. Never trust a system that assigns you a number.
This is really good!
The 4 friends are taking 2 cars up to “The Chalet”. Ultramodern. So nice. I am SHITTING myself for those steel beams.
Wow. I’m not writing down the whole thing, but that “I’m her agent” speech was great.
Oh- so- the case is plugged in to refrigerate it.
“I’m a writer. I notice things in people.” Me too!
Bela Lugosi! Nice!
Oh shit.
So… watching Bela Lugosi as a vampire, then the lights go out…
The friend says “That’s kinda spooky. Did you remember to take your shot today?”
And a second- a split dainty fragment of a moment longer than is comfortable- passes- before Alex Zombie’s him for not-realsies and for hahahas.
Still made me jump.
Is this the dude from Coldplay?
I also would be smoking joints.
The military is rounding up Returned.
Coldplay wants a gun. Kate doesn’t.
Oh, that’s bad. Cops at the door. When he just strapped up.
She’s a horrible liar.
Yeah. He up and left all his musical instruments.
Red flag! Red flag!
Whoah. She… She… She says she shot him in the head.
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
“Well, in theory, yes.”
Asking to see a body is cold. But I think I know where she’s going with this…
Pretty ruthless negotiator…
She would whup my butt at poker.
And he’s… being rude to the guy who knows he’s a Returned. Is honking rude in that situation? I don’t know these things.
Oh, shit… Dude had a zombie chained up in the garage and was trying to feed it and things went bad. And dead. And dead.
That’s not good, but… this fill-up is free.
How’d the corpse get one in the head? I thought they were fighting over a knife? I don’t understand much of anything.
Oh shit. The synthetic protein is not going to be done on time.
AND it’s a full moon!
There’s gotta be some twist to the friend host couple’s intentions. I think it involves the word “Harvesting”. I hope not.
Oh, shit. Kate’s sneaking off to go get the doses.
This is not good. Like, robbery not good! Danger! Stranger Danger! The door is open!
Where is she? Are those signs of a struggle or cookie eating? I suck at this. At least I know tides.
She’s dead. Eve is dead. Looks like someone broke her neck? Strangled her?
Is this a flashback? Yes. This is how she died.
I think she recognizes the nail? Is that her friend’s nail?
Oh, this is bad. The friends stole all the injections.
Well, they left him one. And an apology post-it.
Do we want to call Alex? His number is 705-698-4195. It’s only 10PM. Where is the 705 area code? If there is such a thing? “The 705 Area Code is located in Ontario, Canada. It covers roughly 103 unique phone numbers.” So… does this mean that there’s only 100ish people with this area code? And Alex happens to be one of them? Calling this number is now on my list of things to do. But I’ll do it at a nicer hour.
I’m gonna ask for Alex, though.
She’s going off to… Someone… to talk about something. I just ate more grapes and missed stuff. I’m gonna go get more grapes and then re-watch it.
You’d think that at some point, a monkey would learn “This is the amount of grapes I can successfully hold in my hands. Do not exceed this amount of grapes or you will have to pick them all up and rinse them thoroughly to remove the dog hair.”
I have twice now attempted to hold an excessive amount of grapes.
I have twice now made trips to the sink.
Yeah. I think she’s gonna go talk to her dad? Or her boss?
His friend has called him to apologize and now they’re fighting over his guilt? And then his friend hangs up on him.
Is her dad her boss?
They’re going to tour the hospital while he sets up a “Shades of grey” room in his old music studio. Good that it’s already sound-proofed.
Dad is showing her the last of the stock. 50 days worth.
And Alex has thoroughly bolted himself to the wall. And thrown away the key.
Oh shit- she’s about to get jumped!
The kid’s dad is strangling her!
And she’s… running him the fuck down. I approve.
And all the vials of important stuff. The ground is greener than Boston on St. Patrick’s Day.
I like the dent on her hood. Nice detail.
Flashbacks to originally losing her mom…
The “Promise you won’t let me turn into one of them” conversation…
Followed by a healthy bout of coughing.
Oh, gosh… her mom… she ran.
He’s losing his ability to play guitar. He’s looking bad.
I just texted my wife that I love her. This movie gets you with the feels. Good acting.
I just idly wondered how loud a gunshot would be in a room of sound deadening material?
There’s a lot of crying and snotty-talking.
Did… she actually do it?
Oh. Shit.
SHIT.
This really is a fucking horror movie.
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
“So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it… I know they’re wrong, wait and see.” I’ve had Rainbow Connection stuck in my head. Normally, it’s a lovely song to have on repeat through a warm sunny spring day. But I got to thinking about the lyrics on about the thousandth repetition and I can’t get past the intro line “Why are there so many songs about rainbows and what’s on the other side?”
See, the problem is, I can’t think of a single song questioning what is at the opposite side of a rainbow. There’s the Dio classic “Rainbow in the Dark” but although he yells about a lot of stuff, I don’t recall him wondering what’s on the other side of a rainbow. Maybe a taller version of Dio. I’m sitting here wracking my brain and I can’t think of another song about rainbows. “Taste the rainbow”- as if that wouldn’t make a frog puke.
Why did they choose to start the song off with such a false statement? (Yes, it’s a question, but the question is regarding a thing in existence, so the question acknowledges the existence of that thing in order to question it.) I sometimes think about my degree in Philosophy- knowing what I do know now about both myself and humanity’s capacity for abstract thought- and want to fall down laughing and never get back up.
I’d have been better served- and I’d serve humanity better- had I been raised a welder. “I come from down in the valley, where mister, when you’re young… they bring you up to do… like your daddy done.” Well, I came from a big mountain-top compound with a half-mile driveway and no television, so I didn’t exactly have a choice in how I was going to be brought up to do what. I think I wanted to play the drums. I know percussion has always been my thing. Concussion, too, but that’s a non-sequitur. Or… is it?
Try growing up with the lack of impulse control that I have and see how many concussions you get. Or cause. I think the piano being classified as a percussive instrument makes a world of difference. If children grew up learning to play the piano the same way they play the drums, there’d be a lot of damaged pianos and a bunch more virtuosos. Or, at least, that’s my theory.
When I worked retail, selling video games, it was amazing how afraid adults were of pushing the wrong button. I literally had nervous adults quizzing me on the set-up of their new PlayStation- “What if we do it wrong?” It won’t work. “Will it be damaged?” Not unless you throw it out of frustration. “Which buttons do I push?” Try all of them. It got to the point that if the parent asking me all this crap had a kid with them, I’d look at the kid and ask, “You and your friends know how to set this all up, right?” and the kid would beam and shriek an affirmative and I’d give the parent a smug little “You ought to trust your children more” look.
I do want to say that children should be trusted more in general, but Anton LaVey was onto something when he wrote “There is nothing so black as a newborns’ soul” or whatever prattle the prat pratted. What he meant was that babies are wholly self-occupied. All they care about is themselves. I don’t see this as any great fault of theirs, they’re really not designed to do much else besides die.
What I mean is, you take a baby fish and he’s gonna swim around and try eating random stuff until he finds food and then he’s gonna just be a fish. A human baby, left to it’s own devices, is not going to thrive to the same degree. I don’t have any idea how I got onto this tangent.
There’s a really great yet very disturbing movie called “Man Bites Dog”- it’s French, black and white- and I highly recommend you watch the R-rated, censored version. If in doubt, skip it. Do not watch the unrated version. The point is that a character in the movie has created their own drink, which is in itself a contest. An olive is tied to a sugar cube with a small thread, and then at the same time, all drinkers drop their package in their drink. The first olive to rise is the loser and must buy the next round. The last olive to rise is the winner.
The olive symbolizes a deceased child, while the sugar cube is the ballast weighing it down as it’s dropped in a body of water to hide it. I don’t drink anymore, and I hate olives, but I really want to play this game. I don’t know why. It’s got to be something about the morbidity of it. In the same vein of unacceptable things that I want, I covet a 3rd Reich typewriter with the SS lightening key.
I… don’t know who I’d use it to send letters to. Post is pretty dead. I still love sending in bills with a check though. It was something I struggled with for years. I could never get my bills in on time. I was Mr. Late Fee and Interrupted Service. I would wait until I got a pink notice, then send them double or triple *that* amount. Most of the time not sending in bills was simple avoidance. It made me nervous, so I didn’t do it.
I’m still nervous about sending letters, so I tape all the seams with scotch tape to ensure that they don’t get caught on something inside a machine. But the point is, I found a way that I could function somewhat, and I still feel an immense (admittedly inordinate) amount of pride whenever I seal up a check in an envelope to pay a bill. Sort of the same way I feel when I take the trash out to the curb.
I don’t know if it’s the disorder or the alcoholism, but I never was able to get these types of adulting things done correctly. I’m better at changing the oil in a car than I am at paperwork type stuff. I do believe that it’s part of my disorder that I know there’s no real consequence for not playing along with the forms and procedures. I have the biggest Robinson Crusoe fixation with abandoning society and you’re going to threaten me with social stigma if I don’t scribble the correct marks on the papers you send me before returning them to you?
It doesn’t work that way. When someone wants out, they become contemptuous of the system. Or maybe it’s that once you become contemptuous of the system, you want out. Groucho Marx knew what he was talking about when he said that “I’d never join an organization that would have me as a member!” line. Life needs a bench for people who don’t want to compete anymore.
Years ago I had the entrepreneurial idea to acquire vast acres of land and some monkeys and teach the monkeys to roll joints and smoke them, and then people who wanted to drop out of society could write-off all their possessions to me (yes, just like Jonestown) and then they’d join my savannah and spend the rest of their days passing doobies with chimpanzees. It wasn’t until much later in life that I read about their ability to rip one’s face off with a single snatch. Really going to have to get the monkeys turned onto Indicas then, you know?
Do dogs get the munchies? My Adventure Dog (Not the fat pit-bull) once ate a bag of my weed that she found in a backpack. I came home, saw the bag remnants, and looked around on the carpet in vain for any nugs. Then I noticed my dog was taking two steps sideways for every step forward she took. She was also repeatedly getting up, looking around, and then lying down again with a big sigh after 3 spins. Over and over. I called an Ex who called a Veterinary Friend to make sure that she wasn’t in any real danger and then just chilled out with her in a big snuggle-ball on the futon. She slept like a baby, but I don’t remember any munchies. Maybe she already dealt with them before I got home.
Now that she’s older, she gets CBD gummies, and the Vet had to tell me to stop giving her a little bit of the THC gummies whenever I ate one. The Vet said that weed hits dogs way harder than it does humans. My view on that is- ok, that’s great. Enviable. I wish I was a dog. I’ll give her smaller pieces. She’s a cheap date. I give her melatonin, valium, I mean, my dog drugs better than most teenagers.
She’s only got a little while to go though, so we’re focusing on quality of life over quantity of life. You’re telling me that my dog will have *significant* short term memory loss if she gets high? What, is she going to lose her keys? This argument works about as well as “pretend our paper-game is important or we’ll send you even more papers!”. Um. So. I honestly have no idea what I’m going to watch tonight.
Last night I was up until 3:30, I slept until 2pm, I’ve subsisted today on coffee and bong hits. That’s probably why I was obsessing over that Muppets song earlier. Oh, Jesus. I’m on IMDB looking for something good to watch and there is a 2023 movie named “The Last Train to New York” and it looks like they’re remaking Train to Busan. Assholes. They BETTER do it justice.
Ok. I got something here. The Returned “A zombie virus has infected the world. The only cure, a daily shot of the “Returned” protein. As stock of the protein runs low, chaos hits the streets. When Alex’s dosage runs out, he must fight for a chance to live before he becomes a zombie.” I’ve got a couple questions. Why is the picture Amazon is showing me a woman with very expressive eyes and sharp eyebrows, if this Alex fellow is a fellow.
Was this Alex Fellow born a zombie? No? Then… he must have lived a bit before he got turned into a zombie? What, exactly, does “fighting for a chance to live” look like when the alternative is bloody murderous rampage, which definitely infringes upon other’s rights? What does he want to do so bad?
I want to squirrel-suit. There’s so much you can do when you try. The CEO of one of the first electric motorcycle companies, a lifetime motorcycle racer, found out that he had terminal cancer. With nothing really else to do, he went to the track with this knowledge. I believe he took over a second off his personal record best lap time without meaning to. He just wasn’t afraid anymore. That’s why I bring up squirrel suiting. Hell, if you know you’re going to turn into a zombie, go skydiving and screw the parachute. It won’t hurt and it’ll be exciting as hell! Whoosh! Heaven could be nothing but bins and bins of crisp clean cold grapes and I’d never bemoan the celibacy. We got another coffee to cup and a binger to bong and then it’s on!