Directed by
George A. Romero
Zombies. For being one of the
most iconic monsters in all of movies, television, literature, and any and other
forms of entertainment I didn’t mention, they’re really lucky to have been
immortalized in pop culture the way they have. Taking aside whatever social
satire or celebratory b-grade entertainment that may be applied to zombies,
they’re really one of the most ridiculous and, frankly, goofy monsters, what
with their unthreateningly slow shambling and dumbfounded moans for human
flesh. I think they could only really be scary once, which is exactly
what George A. Romero accomplished with Night of the Living Dead. While
that was still a pretty intense movie, the setups for unintentional self-parody
within the zombie genre were clear and present.
I find myself wondering if
this kind of uncertainty tormented Romero, leaving him at odds with where to
take the zombie film next. Ultimately, I don’t know. That said, what we
ultimately got next was Dawn of the Dead, and what I do know is that we have
been graced with one of the greatest sequels of all time. Though it lacks the
claustrophobic urgency of its predecessor (something debatably impossible at
this point), it makes up ten-fold in its balance of genuinely frightful thrills
and an audacious brand of black comedy and outright fun.
Granted, as Dawn opens up, it is anything but fun (in one of my favorite movie openings ever). The viewer is thrown
into a television studio, which is in the middle of complete chaos – people are
stressed, arguing, and/or walking and abandoning their post. At the center of
this studio is a talk show, attempting to make some kind of sense of recent
events. An unidentified epidemic of sorts is reportedly sweeping the nation – “It
gets up and kills! The people it kills get up and kill!” On the other side of the
city, a housing project is stormed by a SWAT, and it is here that we see the epidemic
in action: the living dead are, indeed, among us. At this point, they are out
of control.
What will become of the living?
Maybe some will live, some will certainly die, but the heroes of our story are
just coming into play – two journalists from the studio, and two SWAT officers
from the project. Knowing they will die if they remain in the city, they hop
into a helicopter and get the hell out of dodge. There is tension between them,
yes, but their collective perseverance lands them at a shopping mall. Though
intended as a temporary stop to catch their breath, they quickly realize the
mall has more than enough resources to sustain them long-term, should they remain
there. Next thing we know, they are hard at work sweeping the place clean of
the undead problem. When they’re not working, they spend their days enjoying
the frivolities of the mall, distracting themselves of the apocalyptic terror
literally right outside.
I find myself comparing Dawn
of the Dead to Terminator 2, as far as sequels are concerned. Aside from mutual greatness, both
films expand their stories and raise the stakes while following the same narrative
template of their respective predecessors, managing to continue the
conversation rather than repeat it. In contrast, though, I am fascinated by how
Dawn feels as big a sequel as it does without a robust
budget of something like T2, having been shot on only $560K. There is a
charm that rings throughout Dawn as a result of that low budget. Even
when the budget shows in less-than-flattering ways, it’s still irresistibly
charming (most notably being those iconic gray-blue zombies).
This is not Dawn’s sole
factor as far as enjoyment is concerned. As I stated earlier, there is a lot of
fun to be had with the zombie scenario. I think Romero realized this upon
conceptualizing the film, and decided to take advantage of said fun, and it’s
all based on the center of all the action: the mall. The idea alone of having
an entire mall to oneself is such a wonderful idea that I can’t comprehend who can’t
revel in it, no matter how anti-capitalist or anti-material one may claim
to be. Then there’s the zombies themselves; there’s always a great chuckle to
be had at their expense, whether they’re getting mowed down by trucks or
getting smeared in the face by way of banana cream pie, all of this is complimented
by a phenomenal score composed by the Goblins.
But there comes a time to shift
tone back to the terror that boils at the scenario’s foundation, and Romero is
precise to the point of perfection when juggling tones and feelings. With perhaps
one or two exceptions (the pie scene being most notable), I can’t really think
of any moment where the film is overindulgent. Dawn opens up tense in
its chaotic TV studio, downright terrifying in the housing project sweep, less tense
yet still alert in the countryside gas station, then things finally look up
upon arrival at the mall. There’s excitement a tragedy to behold here, but just
when the thrills begin to totally thin out, Dawn
resets back to full-force terror during the climactic biker gang showdown. All
of this is balanced out flawlessly. No matter what, though, that uncertainty of
living through an apocalypse always hovers over, so there’s always that little
bit of tension present.
With its moments of terror,
though, Dawn gets downright nasty in its special effects. Sure, the
blood is very obviously fake (though still kind of gross in its thickness), but
seeing a man getting completely disemboweled or a woman getting a good couple
of chunks o’ arm bitten out never ceases to make my stomach churn – even a
brief moment of a man’s leg wound discharging blood after being disturbed is
very sickening. All of this is courtesy of the exceptionally talented Tom
Savini, who needs no introduction here. For the gorehounds reading this, Savini
would double-down on effects in Romero’s follow-up Day of the Dead, which
is so gnarly it is borderline unbearable in its gore.
At the end of the day, though,
Dawn is a hopeful, if somewhat pessimistic, story of human perseverance
amidst chaos, fully embodied by its four leads (David Emge, Ken Foree, Scott H.
Reiniger, and Gaylen Ross). Granted, there’s nothing Oscar-worthy in these performances,
nor are they the most well-developed and three-dimensional characters, but
being confined with them for so long, we really begin to feel like we’re right
there with them. We take great joy in seeing them come together in spite of
their differences, seeing them revel in their triumph against the apocalyptic
odds, and when tragedy strikes the gang, we feel that same sting they do.
Perhaps the final topic of
conversation is the whole satire on consumerist culture present here. Frankly,
while I’m welcoming of it, I don’t care that much at the end of the day. Firstly,
everybody and their mother has already sounded off on this. More importantly,
though, when social commentary overshadows quality, I become more irritably
disinterested. I equate the issue of social commentary implementation to a dash
of spice on a dish: it adds that little extra, yes, but the dish itself must be
good to begin with. In the case of Dawn of the Dead, it’s masterfully
delicious.
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