Survival of The Dead
Overall Recommendation
Overall Recommendation?
Yes, this is a must-watch, in the way that reality is a must-deal with and statistics and karma both prove that there can be no shining gem without a stinking turd. This is a must-watch so that we learn to better appreciate the truly good that can be done, this is the yang to the yin of the original Night of the Living Dead. This is proof that your idols can fall from grace, that they can be humanly frail and weak, that they can say “Hey, let’s make a meandering hodge-podge of non-sequiturs and unlikeable characters! Oh! And one is a LESBIAN, a fact that we’ll make sure to call out EVERY time she appears on the screen. And we should meet her while she’s masturbating in a jeep.” What else do you really think there is to say? The fact that this feels like a Looney Tunes version of a serious movie? That the lead actor has the personality and charisma of a pipe wrench? That the non-existent plot seems set up to move the characters from one “set-up” to the next, like a reality survival competition show off cable tv? There’s also a good amount of Romero’s patented “The dead are going to evolve and learn” bullshit, which culminates with the last third of the movie being a “Will the zombie bite the horse” themed bullshit party. Or rather, excuse me. A deadhead. Isn’t that enough of a flag for you? That they don’t even call them zombies in the movie? This may be worth a watch once, to say you’ve seen it- from a collectors point of view of “having seen all things Romero.” If you’re not chasing this caveat, there are many better offerings- some even from Romero himself- that will be enjoyed over this train-wreck.
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- Bunch of soldiers go AWOL and quickly become masturbating jerks
- Old man posse going around the island shooting zombies
- Another old man sends the first old man away
- The old man and the army jerks join forces when they run out of bullets shooting at each other
- A zombie is riding a horse
- After so much prompting, the zombie is finally coerced into taking a bite of the horse.
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
These are your standard Romero zombies, because this is a Romero movie. The zombies need headshots, really like to eat humans, but as we learned, the zombies themselves are learning. So by the end of the movie, they’ve started a car, and tried to deliver mail, and ride horses, and shoot guns at each other. Which really takes away from the “brainless killing machine” that I really like them portrayed as. Gotta shoot them in the brain, of course. And they’ll never get a driver’s license.
Where the money went
Where the money went
I think the money went into Romero’s pocket. And he gave very little script in return. This is bad. This is nothing like Night of the Living Dead. This is… a burning clown car tumbling off a cliff and down ledges of boulders bad, in the absolute absence of anything plot. You meet some people, you meet some other people, there’s a big shootout at a wharf that alternates between serious and cartoon… The money went into the gore. The special effects were awesome. The money went into high end production values.
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
This sorta tried to use the different weapons as a portal into humor. You know, the axe-head flying off and killing the wrong zombie type thing. But the absolute bad-ass fail that clenches (intended) it for this push is the flare gun that is used to light a zombie’s head on fire so a character can light a cigarette off it. I remember being a 16 year old dishwasher and the cook giving me shit because I lit a joint with a match while the match’s chemicals were still burning off, so the joint tasted like shit. I’ve always been conscious of what and how I lit joints after that. But… imagine how bad and horrible for you a cigarette that you lit off a zombie must be? That’s just gross.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
There is some classic zombie shit here… oh lord, there’s good stuff. Then again, there had better be, this being a Romero and all. The water-breach, with the zombie’s hands clawing up, trying to pull down the swimmers? That was so good! Zombies in water has been done and done again, but this is a wholly new take on “zombie breach”. This is as if Romero got really stoned and asked himself “What else could zombies breach out of except the grave?” and then he got really bad cotton mouth so he went to the sink and did a bunch of water-stuff that resulted in his idea to film this water breach scene.
That was new!
That was new!
I’ve never met a character while they masturbated, nor have I had the message of lesbianism bludgeoned over my head so strongly. But truly, I’ve never seen so much promise thrown away so casually. How are we supposed to take any of the philosophical wondering seriously when we have Looney Tune bullshit like the “Lit dynamite hand-off” or “Fire-extinguisher in the mouth makes the head explode”. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should, and there are many instances in this movie where someone should have said “yeah, that’s a kinda maybe good interesting idea sort of, so why don’t you put a pin in it and go think about it a bit more and maybe we’ll work it into the next one?
Review Notes
Review Notes
Wow. Just got a piece of cilantro stuck in my teeth. It’s amazing how long something that small can hold onto such a distinct flavor.
Umm… The narrator is explaining everything. Explaining how zombies are zombies.
Oh, nice. We have a zombie rising up from under the doctors sheet.
A soldier is trying to get his officer to shoot the zombie…
Why are they using a revolver?
Oh, shit! Uh, a zombie bit the officer, so they shot the officer.
And then… mellon-popped the zombie’s head. That was a neat special effect.
And now you’re… Winnebago pirates?
Plum Island, off Delaware. Where? (HAAAAA!!!!)
Nice, we’re shooting zombies!
A zombie shooting party! Lots of whiskey!
Liv Tyler is pissed at her dad, I think…
Patrick wanna kill all the dead.
Sounds like some people disagree?
No… Commotions?
Oh, gosh… this is a lynching party.
I agree, he should do it. The… well, fuck. Good job there you idiots!
Well, zombie or not, that kid growing up an orphan.
Dude. Keep your eyes open when you shoot.
The kids are up in the attic?
Oh, shit. The kid don’t have half his head.
I don’t think I’d have any problem shooting zombie children. None.
And who is this guy? The black hat guy?
We have some sort of… family feud thing going on.
Maldoon. Sounds like an imported nut based chocolate candy.
O’Flynn. Gave up quickly there, eh?
Damn, they make Carhartt’s in round sizes these days.
Breaks the cockles of my heart… it does, it does…
5 guys motoring off in a dingy… The should start their own hamburger (AM-Buh-GRR) restaurant.
3 weeks later…
Oh, shit, what the hell?
She is masturbating. And he is on his laptop. And it’s all being filmed in a gravel pit.
Ok, I get it. She’s a lesbian.
Hearing sounds, we wander off to investigate.
An armored car?
Laughter? In the woods?
A battle plan?
Mandrake?
A bunch of severed heads. All on poles and all still alive.
Why is he lecturing us about grenades?
Why are all these guys… shooting each other?
“Lousy times make lousy people.”
We meet the kid. Who steals his shit back.
We’re not supposed to like these main characters.
Wow. A million dollars.
And sleight of hand?
We’re going not-south.
A sales pitch for some kinda phone? And an island?
Why are they yelling at each other?
I do not believe he just broke out bullet-proof glass with the butt of his gun.
“Slaughter Beach”? Really? That’s… your destination? That’s just not a choice I would make.
Got some guy fishing off the roof of a building on the pier…
Catches a zombie somehow… snagged it’s ear?
Shoots it in the head?
And another zombie behind him?
Red lights in the sand…
“Deadheads”? That’s… what they call zombies?
Oh, that was nice! I’ve never seen that. A zombie just stepped on a mine.
“Senor… boats… are like women.” No. No, they are not.
More lesbian non-flirting.
Cisco… has jumped into the water.
They’re shooting at him. So we’re in a gunfight now.
Zombie-Breach! In water!
YUCK! Dude just bit the zombie’s finger off! Never seen that before!
AMHERST ISLANDER That’s the boat’s name. Am-erst. NOT AM-HURST.
We’re a third of a way through the movie and we still don’t really know what the hell it’s supposed to be about.
Ahh. Zombies on the boat!
The trusty fire extinguisher! AGAIN!!
Never seen it used like that. Blew up the zombie’s head like a water balloon.
If they just swam, why aren’t their clothes wet?
Tom boy? Oh, that’s the girl’s name!
The subtle comedy that only a hand-grenade can cause.
Well, all of that one guy’s dudes are dead.
“Well boys, may you get to heaven a few seconds before the devil knows you’re dead.”
Ahh… the old “hand the lit bundle of dynamite to the zombie hand that’s reaching through the doorway before shutting the door on the zombie and then the zombie looks at the dynamite with puzzlement and then it explodes.” gag. That one… that’s a classic!
The lesbian shit all over again.
“Well, I’ve been told by a few, not all, that I’m a likeable lad.”
I wouldn’t be boasting about biting a zombie. That’s just fucking gross.
“The licorice sticks” is what they call their M-16’s. I like it.
Whoah! Shit! The “Zombie in a car!” totally just scared the shit outta me. Great window-slap!
The zombie started his car and put it into gear! And reverse! And… well, drive! And reverse! Damn, he’s really wracking up a body repair bill!
“Yeah, but he’ll never pass his driving test!”
The zombies are getting smarter. Got it. Romero really loves this idea.
Gonna take the dingy. You’re a dingy.
Uh… That was the 4th “Shoot a zombie in the chest with a flare gun so it’s head catches on fire and then light a cigarette off the burning zombie head before kung-fu kicking him into the ocean.” Scene I’ve seen this week.
How could an island be separated by a river? Wouldn’t that make it two islands?
They have a mailman chained up to the mailbox.
And one… trying to cut wood.
These are the worst soldiers I’ve ever seen.
His first couple bursts… didn’t even aim.
Why are you yelling at… stop! Stop slapping your dead friend! I shouldn’t even have to say that!
The… zombie Liv is riding a horse.
“Of course I’m not ok. I’m shot, for Christ’s sakes!”
“Given the fact that you’ve been shot, are you ok?”
Ewwww…. So many zombies rotting in the pond.
Oh! Fuck! That scared me!
Now we’re back with the black hats?
Some horseback riding…
Some horse stalls filled with zombies…
Now the guys who are trying to save the zombies are shooting the zombies. See, it’s that kinda detail to continuity that makes it worthwhile.
“but that’s when the livestock still was livestock.”
They’re trying to teach the zombie to eat other animals and not human.
So they’re gonna go try to catch the zombie horse riding girl.
Who the fuck wouldn’t take a drink first? Just gives it away.
Now we’re off looking for the sick member of the team…
“Forget lo-tek, this place is no-tek”
Something about Alabama.
Cisco is sicko.
I’m pretty sure god wouldn’t hold suicide against you if you were infected and about to turn into a zombie.
How could she not have seen them 3 feet from her? They were on HORSES.
Now the kid is walking around in the woods with a big kitchen pot.
GET… away…
HOLY SHIT. FUCK. YEAH. FUCK. TOTALLY JUMPED.
“Women and children have their place.”
Oh. That’s a zombie in the kitchen.
“I’m going to try to convince you to help me do the lord’s bidding.” That is the scariest sentence.
Caught the zombie horse rider. She’s still… a zombie.
Liv is a zombie.
Who talks in the bad actors dream.
Wait. Is that Liv? Yes. She has a twin sister.
Ok, so, an hour in we learn that one of the characters is a twin.
In order for… dude, this sucks!
“Been worse and done more.”
Some other plot twist occurring maybe? What?
Liv is pissed. She had to take care of her twin. Who then died.
Ok, we got some sort of father-daughter emotional reunion or… not…
A face-off at a bridge… with zombies… and a hostage… and… this is over-orchestrated.
So everyone just gave up and got taken hostage. Good plan.
They’re gonna try to get the zombie to eat the horse? The same horse she’s been riding around the island.
They got a couple dozen zombies here.
“I might have played that a little differently.”
Why is she out in the middle of the woods now? Liv?
Live Liv. And the kid has an indecent proposition! Woowoo!
The kid is back!
Oh! A defector! Dude!
No. Bad. Do not trust the zombie. See?? What the fuck did I say?
And the horse with the interference!
No-one can shoot here. Ricochet city!
All the zombies are loose!
Really good gore. Some of the best ever.
Dude… just got his scalp ripped off- the zombie grabbed his head and peeled it off backwards. Dancing cat glitch! Dancing cat glitch!
Some stupidness with an axe head…
Some stupidness stabbing a zombie in the nuts.
Some stupidness between the two old men
Everyone dies.
And then the zombie Liv bit the horse. That’s gross. Poor horse.
Uh… shot his daughter…
Seemingly unaffected by that bullet?
We close with the zombies eating a horse. That’s so fucking gross.
What a strange ending shot though. Both zombie patriarchs standing in front of a full moon, shooting empty guns at each other as if… Dueling. Dancing cat glitch!
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
I read in the news today that roughly ½ of all murders in the US remain unsolved forever. There’s roughly 16,500 murders a year in the US. We have to consider that in most probably, a good chunk of these killings are committed by the same persons, meaning, murder usually isn’t a 1:1 ratio. One person kills at least one, but often many.
As a society, we’ve even developed cult sects hiding in the recesses of the internet celebrating each mass killing and keeping score and stats the way others do with sports stars. Let’s cut that 8,250 down in half again, to account for these doubles and hat-tricks. We’re still at 4,125. That’s a quarter of our annual. Another way of looking at things is that there is an average intelligence, and half the US is above it, and half the US is below it. Where do you see yourself on this scale?
I see myself optimistically somewhere near the top 20 percent, with an asterisk next to my name, indicating that due to drugs and head trauma I often get stuck method-acting the idiot. Think back to the first thought you had upon realization that roughly half the murders in the US go unsolved. What was your first impulse? Not thought. Thought probably was something mundane like “Gosh, that’s higher than I’d have thunk.” or “I wonder where he got that statistic, since 62% of them are made up on the spot.”.
My first impulse upon reading that information was “Opportunity!”. It’s very similar to when I was in grad school taking an Auditing class and I learned that the average amount of time spent in jail for white collar crime was around a year per million that you’ve convicted of stealing. I know this is probably just par for the course with me demonstrating ASPD eccentricities, but I would most definitely take a year in a minimum-security prison for a million dollars in a suitcase upon release.
Of course, I’d probably come out an insane man due to a year of wondering if they were really going to let me out, or as I’ve written before, there’s a large chance that once inserted into such a rule-stricken bureaucratic petty beast such as a prison I have no doubt that I’d die there, still incurring charges and more time to serve until the last. I’m sure it would start with something like mashed potatoes and them not having any white pepper, which I can easily escalate until there’s a gash in someone’s head and a ladle with a story.
But if I knew I’d be let out and given a box of cash, I’d happily commit myself to a year inside. There’s really no difference between a monk in a remote monastery and a prisoner in a low-security housing, if I’m going to just randomly babble shit that I haven’t put any thought into. What I mean by that is two-fold, the first being, I’m essentially just caffeine-dumping words to get them out so nothing is of any import or would be defended as anything I remember saying, and the second is that a guy I know says he did the whole “Pilgrimage to China” and lived and trained at a Shaolin monastery, and that after a couple months, he’d progressed to a lot of sweeping and stepping through the same 4 steps around a box, his feet repeating into the same place each rotation. I think he said that the monks didn’t eat much, either, and didn’t speak often.
How is that different from prison? It’s just a different set of constrictive rules. To return to the original point though… I actually *have* someone I’d like to kill. Well, if we’re just wishing, Santa, I guess the real answer is that I have three. And then I get a little pissed off thinking things though further… and let’s just say 5. I can think of 5 people who, due to my past interactions with them, I believe it would be in my mental health’s best interest (and beast’s interest, as spell-check repeatedly insisted was correct) to see buried. I believe I would feel a bit of satisfaction doing it myself, but this isn’t a snuff fantasy by any stretch. This is a remembering and accounting for.
Wait. Shit. 6. But I don’t remember that guy’s name. So… we’re back to 5. At what point does something like this become a list? I only have 5 items, and I can remember them all, so no need to write them down. Were this groceries, or a Starbucks order for the office, I’d be fucked without writing it all down, but with 5 people who left permanent tracks across the snow of my soul, I don’t need to write anything down. And now… now we learn that ½ the murders are never solved?
This makes me want to spin the wheel, Alex. This makes me want to drive off into the night with a map, a thermos of black coffee, and an old gun under the spare tire in the trunk of the car. I want to grow out and dye a mustache and try on hats and sunglass combinations until I’ve got the perfect “Undercover cop on a pedophile sting who always thought he could pull off Brad Pitt” look, like Bruce Willis in 12 Monkeys as he’s shot down in the airport.
Fuck. I’m out of coffee. I know I want these people dead. I know I would like to be the person who kills them, assuming they’re still alive. I don’t know if I’d even remind them who I was. But I do believe that I’d sleep better at night if they slept forever. I should look them up- there’s a decent chance maybe I’ve been lucky though human attrition. But regardless, it’s intriguing to wonder what tracking down and meeting these people could be like now. What reception would I get if I announced our past relationship?
Ok. 7. But *he* hit me in the head with a shovel first, so this is just fair play turn-about, nothing really personal. The others, especially those first 4… well, #1… #1 is special. Special the way lovers can feel after years apart yet still unable to forget. The next three? Think of any popular clique anywhere. The core. The center of it all. Burn. The last two? Striking similarities, yet… probably appalled reactions to any hint of parrallelity. I’m going to make a rule, right now. If you have PTSD nightmares about someone who has or had authority over you, that’s your brain giving you permission to change the dynamics of the scenario. Once someone fucks with you in your sleep, you know there is a problem. They have literally gotten inside your head.
A few nights ago I punched my wife in my sleep. We were curled up, I was big spoon, we were both deep snoozling, and I was dreaming something about fighting with my parents. In my dream, I was trying to do something or go somewhere, and my mom was hindering me by holding onto my left side, and there was furniture to my right, hemming me in with an open drawer… In my dream I tried to pull free; I scythed my left elbow back into my mothers face, and then turned the rotation back towards center into a smashing downwards piston-punch with my right hand through the obstruction.
In the dream, I needed to get away. I was afraid and trying to escape. In reality though, lying in bed, I simply raised my right hand, made a fist, and punched my wife in the ribs. There was so much apology I can’t explain how much apology there was. Wind it back to the initial point, which is, the high (50%-ish) rate of homicides left unsolved in the US has made me think about taking a trip to see if I can find someone. Could I find them and watch them without leaving any traces, physical or digital? Could I speak with them in person? Alone and not knowing who I am or our historical relationship? Could I get their consent to touch them?
I read about a Native American custom of taking honor from their enemies, which was that if you could ride up and slap your enemy, and then escape unharmed, you’ve done more damage than any physical blow could have done. Could I use this as a way to avoid any potential murder charges, downgrading the severity to whatever the worst a slap could fall under? Here’s a question that I can’t answer. Would it be better to get them with the surprise slap of shame, and then face whatever assault charge they drum up, or would it be better to simply remove them and take your chances on the coin-toss? If I killed one person, would I… be able to stop?
I’m thinking of a name right now. I have… a vague face. Body language is more imprinted on my memory than faces. I react to body language, not eye contact or any of that other prison-yard crap. Body language tells you everything direct into your ear like a hot-line into their id. Body language tells you things before the person themselves is aware a thought is coming. Maybe some sort of public call-out? As in, I find these people and issue a public challenge, where I might find my satisfaction?
Why the fuck was dueling outlawed? I say bring it back. I don’t really understand the concept of the second though. I’d need that explained to me before I started slapping people with gloves. But… I think that the duel is really what our society needs. Two people got an issue? Choose your weapons! I believe it’s Washington state that still allows two consenting adults to have a fistfight in public if they want to.
A couple of years ago I went down a rabbit hole about normal people dressing up as super-heroes and trying to fight crime a-la-vigilante-style, and one guy who they interviewed had a sibling who was an MMA fighter, or something like this. The point being, this guy with serious fighting skills wanders around in green underwear and a mask downtown when the bars are getting out and when people start acting like dicks he sorts shit out. From what I saw, he does a good job of it, too. A thoughtful fighter. But how thoughtful are you if you’re dressing up like a comic book character?
It’s essentially the one thing that you can do to ensure that you’re not taken seriously. Or is that the point? Dressing up like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sans shell and assaulting drunks doesn’t look like assaulting drunks when you’re dressed up like a turtle cosplayer? Speaking of the turtles, I had a friend who- unless he’s a complete idiot- or died of obesity- has a bunch of one of the two (Eastman? and Laird?)’s sketches from before they got published. My friend’s father was a professor at a local college, and the turtle-artist dude was taking his class, and he submitted some assignments with sketches and doodles on them, like, the headers and margin and stuff. My friend’s father saved these- some hell of an intuition there- and now, well, I can only wonder at if they’ve been sold to a rabid collector, or if they’re framed and hanging in a bathroom or hallway, or are they just sitting quietly in a manilla folder somewhere, like my autographed glossies from porn or my Rancid setlist from the Wolves tour? I guess…
Well, I’ve got some of Bruce Campbell’s question cards from his game show filming that I went to, so I should get those all framed up… you know, we should have a new house one of these days. I’ll finally have a place to hang my good shit. And 5 scalps, if I ever get around to it. Speaking of procrastination though, I suppose this is where I, as always, state that I’ve got no idea what the hell to watch.
My wife and I just watched Mordecai and it was a beautiful train-wreck of a Johnny Depp being… the same fucking character he’s been a dozen times. I really thought it’d be better. Oh well. Gosh, this should prove interesting. Tonight I’m going to eat my last taco and then we’re going to watch George A. Romero’s Survival of the Dead. Which makes me wonder… did someone else already do a Survival of the Dead and Romero couldn’t conceive of using any other name? Or was it determined that “Survival of the Dead” was… way too confusing of a Title to use without putting it in the context of “Oh, we’re talking about ZOMBIES!”?
The description is “On an island off the coast of North America, local residents simultaneously fight a zombie epidemic while hoping for a cure to return their un-dead relatives back to their human state. The master George A. Romero returns with a new entry in the greatest horror series of all time. Combining black humor with his trademark zombie gore and apocalyptic vision, it’s a must see for horror fans.” I think I’ve seen this, like, once. And that was only… half watched, maybe? I think I turned it off because it was annoying me. I feel like there’s something that really rubbed me the wrong way. But I’m willing to give it another try, if only to figure out what the Achilles heel actually was.
PS. The surest way to get me to NOT watch something is to label it a “must see”.
PPS. The 2nd surest way to get me to not watch something is to try to sell the art on the supposed strength of it’s creator. Let’s look at it from a different perspective- how many bands put out a GREAT album? How many bands put out multiple great albums? How many bands put out NOTHING but great albums? See? Were I to do research before such endeavors, I could find that this is widely panned as his absolute laziest, most-phoned-in work. Do you really have to collect the whole set? Sometimes I think you do, other times I think you’re a fool to.