There was a time when only George A. Romero could make zombie movies. Others might have been trying, and even working within similar budget constraints, but Romero owned that subset of horror like no other. Night of the Living Dead was a watershed. It introduced the zombie, even while the name was never used, and virtually all of its’ associated characteristics: the flesh-eating, slow moving yet vicious reanimated corpses stalking people in hordes to feast on or turn into zombies themselves. That film introduced the zombie into the horror fiction canon like no creation since, but it was its’ sequel Dawn of the Dead, that was arguably more influential, in its’ enhanced make-up and gore effects, and in its’ fuller illustration of a zombie apocalypse.
In this it draws from the same source that its’ precursor had, Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend, and maybe even its’ first popular adaptation, The Omega Man. But coming in 1978, a full decade after Night, Romero once again chose to interrogate his society through the lens of the zombie menace and this early breakdown of civilization. Specifically, consumerism is on his mind, the impulses of consumer culture and capitalism that tend to dominate our lives, make us mere drones. It’s a wonder this came out when it did, in the decade between the system-challenging anti-authoritarian era of the 60s, and the hyper-consumerist Reaganomic period of the 80s -where this theme would have been most resonant and welcome. But here it was in 1978, zombies as blatant stand-ins for the ills of capitalist society, and yet still perhaps not so bad as the racist humans.
Yes, carrying on from that dramatic irony that the first film ended with, this movie features early on an army of cops raiding a housing project and shooting its’ black and Latino residents on some arbitrary basis of Martial Law. This while the news is reporting of an outbreak that is taking over the country and a much more pressing need for police resources. Once again there is an officer who is trigger-happy and specifically racist, taking joy in his hate crime, but Romero clearly intends the scene to be an indictment of the police force in general. At least the zombies are indiscriminate in who they go after and do so with no maliciousness. We don’t see what happens to this police force at large but the specific asshole is killed by a black officer from another unit, in seeming retribution for the end of Night.
This is Peter Washington (Ken Foree), who teams up with the one “good cop” Trooper Roger DeMarco (Scott Reiniger). Joining them are Roger’s friends traffic reporter Stephen Andrews (David Emge) and his pregnant girlfriend Fran Parker (Gaylen Ross), the producer. This is the survival team of the film and once again Romero sets up the black man as the indisputable person in charge, once again in a context that frames him within a racist world. It’s something that carries a lot of weight, especially for this genre still in its’ infancy, that it espouses black authority so prominently and so potently. I don’t know if Romero meant that through his own sense of anti-racist politics or if he was aware of the subtler themes and symbolism that come from a person of colour being both the rational thinker and the fighter when set upon by violent, unwieldy masses.
The critical set piece of this film is the shopping mall, a real mall in Monroeville, Pennsylvania that Romero and his crew shot in at night (it was also during the holiday season, as can be gleaned by the decorations in shop windows). There’s a spooky quality to its’ vast emptiness, its’ many open courts. The movie made malls an apocalyptic symbol, but also perhaps a favourite spot to hold up because of, as the survivors note, its’ variety of resources. And it is kind of cool and fun for them initially, once they’ve successfully driven the zombies out at least, as has been a pattern in zombie movies since -until the novelty wears off and reality sets in. That particular mood of existential grimness which has become a genre staple, was set in motion here, and it’s well done.
A mall is also perfect for the desired commentary, which borders on caricature it’s so blunt. “Why do they come here?” asks Fran, looking down on zombies meandering through the food court. “Some kind of instinct,” says Stephen. “Memory of what they used to do. This was an important place in their lives.” That last line juxtaposed with their gawking braindead movement, he might as well be calling them “sheeple”. Their lives revolved around consumerism, around buying luxuries, and now here they are even as undead drones roaming the same space. Adding to the effect of course is the recorded messages on the loudspeaker, still periodically encouraging customers and advertising deals. Of course Romero is careful to show how the shuffling monsters, though allegorical, are not the only heralds to this satire. The survivors are still in some way driven by those same impulses too, as demonstrated when Peter proposes a shopping spree as soon as the zombies have been excised. That vocabulary is important, our desires for things, both necessities and luxuries, siphoned through the context of consumer culture’s inveterate grip. But what is left once they have achieved its’ hollow abundance?
Motivated implicitly by the same urge for product, a biker gang invades the mall in the third act, at last breaking the tranquility that was never permanent and letting the hordes back in. The idea of one person, or small group of persons dooming everyone in the last act of a zombie movie is one more trope that appears to have its’ start here, but it’s important to note in the context of this movie’s overarching theme, the symbolism of a consumer mindset being the thing that brings humanity down. Stephen’s possessiveness over the mall and its’ resources directly leads to his death and zombificaction amidst this. And the mall is overrun, its’ braindead acolytes in full command -humanity forced out of the capitalist equation.
There are other social remarks Romero makes through the film, though not as ostentatiously. Most notably are his biting jabs at the media industry. That is the work Stephen and Fran are involved in and the early part of the film plays off the network’s confusion over what they’re supposed to be covering. Nobody at the studio is remotely prepared for a major crisis. One TV host loses composure in a debate with a scientist who advocates strict logical responses to an illogical deadly epidemic, including potentially arguing for cannibalism and directly for nukes on major cities. It’s the ludicrous media circus at its’ finest, and might have come out of Network. Yet an implicitly irresponsible media still remains the only outlet for the protagonists to the outside world.
There are other social remarks Romero makes through the film, though not as ostentatiously. Most notably are his biting jabs at the media industry. That is the work Stephen and Fran are involved in and the early part of the film plays off the network’s confusion over what they’re supposed to be covering. Nobody at the studio is remotely prepared for a major crisis. One TV host loses composure in a debate with a scientist who advocates strict logical responses to an illogical deadly epidemic, including potentially arguing for cannibalism and directly for nukes on major cities. It’s the ludicrous media circus at its’ finest, and might have come out of Network. Yet an implicitly irresponsible media still remains the only outlet for the protagonists to the outside world.
It’s honestly kind of funny, and what shouldn’t be under-discussed among this movies’ sharp themes and mastery over its’ narrative, is how fun and thrilling it can be. Where Night of the Living Dead was mostly defined by survival and inter-personal conflict, Dawn of the Dead is where the more exciting idea of a zombie apocalypse takes root. I noted of course the appeal of the mall setting, but we also see characters here, notably Peter and Roger having fun fighting off zombies. There’s the hint of a disturbing humanity there (how different is it from the cops gleefully massacring minorities earlier?), and Roger does pay for it -getting bitten, slowly dying, before reanimating and being mercy-killed by Peter. But there is an undeniable jolt of energy, feeding off our response to righteous violence that is exhilarating. The fantasy of the zombie apocalypse.
And then there are the cool and interesting advancements in gore that this movie makes, a major step up from its’ predecessor. To a modern viewer it still might be a little jarring to see zombies that just have pale complexions and gray skin without the more conventional decaying flesh or open wounds. But then you see one take a bite out of somebody’s neck or a throng of them tear a person apart (in a bit that I recognized as one of Shaun of the Dead’s more direct echoes). The special effects work by Tom Savini, who also appears as one of the bikers (the one who pies a zombie in the face I believe), is really something fascinating. It’s nifty and tangible, and you find yourself impressed by the ingenuity with which a machete through one’s head is illustrated, how another’s head explodes -a cast filled with food stuffing according to wikipedia. Savini’s designs of the graphic make-up and gore was apparently inspired by his service in Vietnam, which is all kinds of horrifying, but it produced a sensational result. The gore of this film polarized people, which given how inexcessive it is and how its’ look is more pulpy than authentic, shows again how early this was in the development of the genre, and in the public’s taste for it.
Dawn of the Dead certainly feels in its’ way cheap. It wasn’t made for very much, shot in and around the Pittsburgh area with a cast composed of no recognizable actors -much in the manner its’ predecessor had been made. It was co-financed by Dario Argento though, who exerted a certain degree of influence and distributed it internationally as Zombi, a word which though I’ve been using, never appears in the movie itself. At one point it was going to end with no survivors, but Romero decided against this sometime after casts had been made for Peter and Fran’s corpses. He’d killed off the black protagonist in Night of the Living Dead to make a point -there was no reason to repeat that here. And so he leaves the film not quite so grim in the idea that survival and a future is possible -Fran was indeed pregnant during the events of the film. That too is an understated, important part of the zombie premise: the glimmer of hope. Civilization may collapse, and as the films’ social commentary might indicate, some of its’ structures may need to go, but humankind can pull through -so as long as it doesn’t succumb to impulses of pride or greed, as brought down Roger and Stephen. It speaks maybe to a more optimistic Romero than the one who made Night of the Living Dead -I like to think so at least. It attests to his thoughtful approach to apocalypse, something that more filmmakers working in his genre would do well to take in.
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