George A Romero: My Tribute

I can say, without the slightest shred of hyperbole, that I would not be the man I am today had it not been for George Romero.  It would be the farthest thing possible from an exaggeration to say that, despite the fact that I never met the man, or was ever even in the same room as him, his impact on my life is equal to, if not greater than, anyone who has ever walked the planet.  The death of an artist can be a very bizarre and complex phenomenon.  Those who mourn are often looked upon with scorn for placing so much emphasis on the passing of a public figure that, in the strictest terms, wasn’t a physical part of their world.  But for those whose lives were deeply touched by that person’s art, it can feel like the loss of a family member.  A beloved friend.  A mentor.  A hero.  Even a sort of spiritual figure.  That is the power that lies in the essence of art.  Art changes lives.  And I can honestly say that I have never felt an artist’s passing as intensely as I feel this one because George Romero’s art, in a very real and literal sense, profoundly altered the course of my life.  There would never have been a Son of Celluloid without him.  More importantly however, had it not been for one fateful viewing of Night of the Living Dead, I’m not even sure who Nathan Hamilton would be today.

In 1992, I was a very mixed up kid.  As the son of a Southern Baptist minister and a member of a traveling evangelistic family unit as a child, I had been fully indoctrinated.  Some would call it brainwashing.  From birth I was being groomed to carry on the family business.  But there was a side of me that I didn’t understand.  I had always found myself attracted to the darkness.  While others were preaching about Jesus healing lepers, I was enamored with the seven headed apocalyptic beasts in Revelations.  While my father talked about the resurrection from the pulpit, I was rendering the best gory-as-hell depictions of crucifixions my five year old art skills would allow on the back of church bulletins.  More than one concerned Sunday School teacher called my folks in for a conference when, upon being tasked with drawing a picture from a bible story, I turned in an image of David holding Goliath’s dripping, severed head aloft.

I was just doing what came natural to me, but it was always treated as some sort of derangement that needed to be fixed.  I was sick.  These urges were of the devil.  Why are you like this?  Why can’t you be normal?  Do you think this glorifies the Lord?  What’s the matter with you?  When your entire world view is based on sin and salvation, if you are told enough times by those you believe to be spiritual leaders that there is something deeply wrong with you, you start to believe it yourself.  If an impressionable child is prayed over to “take this wickedness from him” enough times, it will inevitably get inside their head.  And this is where I found myself in early October of 1992; with a deep seeded inner turmoil.  I was torn between my honest proclivity towards the macabre and the fear that these urges very well may be the work of infernal powers after all.  I didn’t know what to think.

Then came a night that, 25 years later, I still remember as vividly as a snapshot.  On my little black and white TV in my room, I discovered that some now long defunct and forgotten UHF station was about to show a movie called Night of the Living Dead.  I had heard the name somewhere before, and I knew I had to see it.  That night, basking in the glorious monochrome glow, I saw my first horror movie.  I wasn’t afraid.  I was mesmerized.  As the movie progressed, I slowly came to the realization that if this kind of entertainment existed, then there were more people out there like me.  Lots more.  Enough that they made movies just for them.  I was reveling in the things that fed my soul, the very things I had been taught to hate and fear, and nothing bad was happening.  I felt no satanic command to kill people.  My soul wasn’t being dragged to the abyss.  In fact, I was the happiest I had ever been.  Watching that movie felt… it felt like home.

When it  ended, I laid down in bed and thought long and hard.  Everything I had ever been taught said that what I had just done was wrong.  But everything within me had never felt so right.  It was in that moment that I decided that I no longer wanted to be what I was being made into.  I wanted to be who I actually was.  As I drifted off to sleep, that inner turmoil was gone.  In its place, I felt truly at peace for the first time I could remember.  The person that I would eventually grow into was born in that moment.  That’s why I call myself the Son of Celluloid.  Because I feel like that singular movie experience gave birth to the real me.  And although I now know that it takes a small army to make a film happen, in my 12 year old mind that realization, that conversion, was thanks to one man; the director.  George A Romero.  I guess, in a way, you could call him the Father of Celluloid.

About a year later, the first horror movie I ever purchased was, of course, Night of the Living Dead.   That beat to hell VHS still sits in my collection as the cornerstone of the horror obsession at the core of my being.  I couldn’t begin to count how many times I’ve watched it.  For years, I watched it as I went to sleep nearly every night.  The first thing I’ve done on my last 20 or so Halloweens is put that movie on.  When I went to film school, about 75% of my projects and essays were about his body of work (the other quarter were about Argento).  I always hoped, one day, that I would get to meet the man who changed my life and thank him.  When I started getting involved with the Days of the Dead conventions, I always hoped he would be there one year.  Sadly, our paths never crossed.  He was supposed to be the keynote guest in Indianapolis a couple of weeks ago.  I had that old VHS tape ready for him to sign.  I was finally going to meet the man who had meant more to me than he possibly could have ever known.  Truth be told, I probably would have blathered like an idiot or just frozen in the face of a man who, in my mind, had been built up to damn near Godlike status.  It was not to be, however.  He cancelled due to health reasons.  I was crushed, but held the hope that he would be healthy again when the next con came around.  Sadly, there will never be a next time.

This may have all sounded very maudlin and melodramatic to some of you, but my words are the only tribute I have for a man who, in a way that cannot be overstated, set me free.  It’s strange knowing that I now live in a world where the godfather of independent horror no longer walks among us.  I’m sure he knew his stature in the horror world.  I’m sure he’s been told countless times by countless filmmakers that he was their inspiration.  I’m sure he knew that, by creating the modern zombie, he changed the landscape of the genre forever.  I’m sure untold numbers of fans have made him uncomfortable professing their admiration for him just like I probably would have.  But I wonder if he knew just how far his influence transcended horror entertainment and touched the very hearts, minds, and lives of his fans and, in cases like mine, was a guiding force in who they would come to be.  My fondest hope is that he somehow did.

So now here I sit, watching Night of the Living Dead for the only god knows how many hundredth time.  In the past, I have watched this movie and thrilled.  I have watched this movie and marveled.  I have watched this movie and laughed.  I have watched this movie and been comforted.  I have watched this movie and learned.  I have watched this movie and adored every second of entertainment it has given me.  But tonight, for the very first time, I watch this movie and weep.  Thank you, George.  Not just for what you did, but for what you meant.

30 Day Horror Challenge Day 17 - Your favorite horror film remake

I’m probably gonna catch some flack for this one, but that's ok, everyone's entitled to my opinion. A lot of people hated the 1990 remake of Night of the Living Dead. I absolutely love it though. Before you say anything, let me say that I cannot state loud enough how much I love the original. If this had been a butchering of that classic I would revile it with the same passion that I loathe the Nightmare on Elm Street remake with. What NOTLD90 (that’s gonna be my shorthand for the title from here on out) does is the same thing that some of the best remakes, like The Thing, The Fly, and The Body Snatchers, have done. Instead of completely trying to reinvent the wheel, they took the premise of the original, stayed true to the spirit of the original, but updated the attitude to fit the culture of the time it was released.

One thing that I think contributed to NOTLD90 staying so true to the immortal 1968 film is the fact that the filmmakers were so closely associated with the source material. George Romero wrote the remake’s screenplay and was one of the executive producers, along with his co-writer of the original, John Russo. Tom Savini may not have had anything to do with the original flick, but due to his effects work on its sequels he is arguably the second most important figure behind the Living Dead series after Romero. I can’t think of anyone better to take the directorial reigns of this flick. The fact that it wasn’t just some studio taking advantage of a license they own with no respect for the original (I’m looking at you Platinum Dunes) gives this film a lot more credibility than these wholesale “reboots” we’re getting from the current remake-mania.

While the basic plot and character list are the same as the original, there are definitely changes. While there is more gore and violence in the remake, I am kind of surprised that there wasn’t messier zombie mayhem with the notorious special effects master in the director’s chair. The most obvious change, though, is the strengthening of the female characters. Romero has said that he regrets writing the character of Barbara as absolutely useless, hysterical, and semi catatonic in the original. He remedies that here, turning her into a Sigourney Weaver/Linda Hamilton style ass kicker. After her initial scenes of well deserved freaking out, she becomes the most level headed one of the group. They never quite explain just how she became such a great marksman though. Hmmmm. Anyway, even Cooper’s wife is much more forceful in the remake.

What a cast they assembled for this one too! The always on point Tony Todd plays Ben. He had some mighty big shoes to fill, playing a role originated by Duane Jones, but he does admirably. He plays the character just as take charge and forceful as Jones did, but hives him vulnerability and a touch of sensitivity. The man, no matter what his role, has a commanding screen presence. The scene near the end of Ben, sitting in the cellar as the zombies invade the house and bursting out laughing when he finds those damn gas keys is one of my all time favorite movie moments. There’s also a great inside joke shot involving a crowbar that is a riff on another Todd role you may remember. Tom Towles plays Cooper. In the original, you hate Cooper. In the remake, you loathe him. In Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, Towles was a magnificent scumbag. In NOTLD90, he’s a magnificent dickhead. His job is to make us despise Cooper, and he pulls that off in spades. Patricia Tallman (Army of Darkness, Monkey Shines, various Scifi TV series) is great as the tough as nails Barbara 2.0. Johnny, her brother, is played by genre legend Bill Mosely. It’s a very small part, but you can tell he’s having an absolute blast.

To be fair, this movie does have its faults. Remember when I talked about the female characters being stronger in this version? Judy is the exception. She basically shrieks for the entirety of her time on screen, which is REALLY annoying. Had I been in that farmhouse, I would have fed her to the zombies. Near the end, Barbara, watching the redneck zombie rodeo, throws out the line “They’re us. We’re them and they’re us.” The film is not so much Romero’s usual social commentary as it is just a commentary on mankind’s violent nature, but that was as subtle as a headshot. I think they should have left that unstated; the subtext was obvious enough without them beating us over the head with that line. It also contains the single dumbest thing I have ever seen a horror character do. When Tom and Judy go to refuel the truck, they find that it’s locked. Tom decides to use his trusty lock pick, AKA double barrel shotgun. In the original, Ben blows the lock off with a .22. That was stupid enough. Now, I realize that in horror movies, sometimes the only way to advance the plot is for people to act differently than most people would in real life. I cannot, however, imagine a person ever being stupid, panicked, or drunk enough to think that the best course of action in any situation is to SHOOT A FREAKIN’ 12 GUAGE AT A GAS PUMP!!! Come on now. What did you think was gonna happen?

The successes in the remake of Night of the Living Dead far outweigh the faults though. Savini and Romero manage to retain much of the claustrophobic atmosphere and sense of dread that made the original so great. They completely changed the ending, which in many remakes is a big mistake, but this new ending is brilliant. Overall, this is what a remake should be, everything you love about the original with a modern facelift. Two severed thumbs up. Nathan says check it out.

30 Day Horror Challenge Day 14 - Your favorite zombie film

Well, my favorite zombie movie also happens to be my favorite movie of all time, so I’m gonna save that one for day 30. Instead, I’ll write about my second favorite zombie flick, Day of the Dead. Purists tend to see Romero’s Living Dead series as an original trilogy and a later trilogy instead of one series. Day of the Dead is generally considered to be the least of the original trilogy. I don’t get that at all. In my mind this movie is second only to Night. Heresy! Did I just say that Day of the Dead is better than the sacred Dawn of the Dead? It’s only by a narrow margin, but yes, for a lot of reasons.

This is by far the grimmest of the Living Dead movies. The situation has gotten progressively worse throughout the trilogy. In Night, there is hope. After all, it’s only the Eastern third of the United States and Willard is only about 17 miles from here. In Dawn, the problem is widespread, but we see humanity putting up a fight. In Day, we’ve lost. That’s it. We don’t see anyone else besides our merry little band of survivors, nor do we hear from or about any other pockets of humanity. Help isn’t coming. Humanity has lost against the zombies, and while one special zombie becomes a little more human, the humans are losing their humanity. The darker side of man’s nature is rearing its ugly head, and innumerable zombies are right outside the door. The most telling moment is in the opening sequence. Sarah, one of the scientists, has a zombie nightmare (without Thor, and kudos if you get that one). When she wakes up, she’s in a helicopter looking down on the deserted, ravaged streets of Miami. She wakes from a nightmare and reality is just as bad. Ain’t that a kick in the head?

Romero’s social commentary is razor sharp as always. Just like in the rest of the trilogy, as well as Land, Diary, and Survival, human vs. zombie remains as the overlying conflict, but the real issue is human vs. human in the face of the zombie threat. Romero is using his tried and true formula of trapping a small group of survivors together in a central location as the zombie threat looms outside and watching what they do. It’s what happens when people stop being polite, and start getting real. It’s The Real World: Zombie Apocalypse, or something like that. In Night, Romero was commenting on the racial tension of the 60’s. In Dawn, it was the rising crass commercialism of the 70’s. In Day, Romero beautifully skewers the macho, Reagan/Rambo militaristic posturing of the 80’s. We have a small band of scientists trying to find a way to reverse the process, or at least control the zombies, sharing an underground bunker with a bunch of soldiers who just want to kick some ass and aren’t too keen on all this science crap. While the scientists are peaceful (if, in Dr. Frankenstein’s case, a little nutty), the soldiers are brutal and idiotic. It shows what happens when those with the superior fire power are no longer held accountable. They impose their will through threats, intimidation, and force. I, being a bit of an anti-authority/anti-establishment kinda guy, like where Romero is going with this. The meatheads with power end up victimizing those trying to solve the problem rationally. Sounds like a few issues we’re facing today with quite a few countries governments, huh?

Aside from that “deep meaningful interpretation” stuff, there’s a lot to love about this flick just from a “good fun horror flick” standpoint. The claustrophobic atmosphere that George specialized in these films is incredibly well done. The characters in this flick are, with one exception, absolutely great and well played all around. Has there ever been a villain you cheered harder for to get what’s coming to them than Captain Rhodes? I dare you not to cheer when the bastard gets eviscerated. Dr Frankenstein is second only to Doc Brown in the non-evil mad scientist role. My personal favorites, though, are John and McDermott. They’re not soldiers or scientists; they’re just there to “Fly the whirlybird mon” and try to stay the hell out of the whole conflict. I would have loved to have seen a spin-off sequel or prequel following those 2 characters. Even the zombies are iconic in this one, particularly Bub. Like it or not, this is where the “thinking” zombie emerged, and it’s done well here. Sherman Howard, who went on to have a hell of a career, manages to convey the mental struggle of the missing link zombie without words but with believability. The only character that doesn’t work is Miguel. Yeah he’s suffering from PTSD, and we’re supposed to feel sorry for him, but he’s so whiney and annoying that I find myself saying “Would you just die already!?!”

As far as the effects go, zombie gore effects, and this is a bold statement, have never been done better before or since. Yes folks, the epitome of zombie gore was reached with PRACTICAL effects in 1985. Look at Dr. Tongue. That makeup is flawless. Look at the half bodies on the tables. How about the gut spilling zombie, or the evisceration of Rhodes, or…or any effect in the movie? The best work of Savini’s career. The zombies, even aside from the gore, are great looking. Much of that is due to a young Greg Nicotero, who also appears as one of the soldiers. This was the makeup and effects legend’s first film, and his abilities were already top notch. Day’s zombie makeups are as advanced beyond Dawns as Dawns were beyond Nights.

Day of the Dead us often unfairly treated like the redheaded stepchild of the Living Dead series. Why? It’s got great characters, it’s atmospheric, it’s got a story that works on a literal and allegorical level, and its got some of the best special effects ever created. Sure, it can get a little talky in some spots, but the undead mayhem is more than worth the trip. Unfortunately, it also has the distinction of being the only one of the living Dead series whose remake was a complete and total failure. Two severed thumbs up. Nathan says check it out.

30 Day Horror Challenge Day 08 - Your favorite anthology

Lets see, we’ve got my two all time favorite directors doing an omnibus based on stories by my all time favorite author. How could I not pick Two Evil Eyes as my favorite anthology? Released in 1990, Dario Argento had originally conceived of Two Evil Eyes as a much bigger project. He wanted to create an anthology flick (or a TV series depending on your source) with John Carpenter, Wes Craven, George Romero, and himself each directing a segment based on a story by Edgar Allen Poe. Wes, however, was busy making The People Under the Stairs and had to bow out. Carpenter was busy making Memoirs of an Invisible Man. Whether or not that was a good decision I’ll leave up to you. With those two out, Argento and Romero decided to split the movie between them. I, for one, am very glad they did. The result may have been a little bit uneven, but delivered in spades.

George Romero’s half comes first, and it’s an adaptation of Poe’s story. The Facts in the Case of Mr. Valdemar. The same story was also the basis for a segment in another one of my favorite anthologies, the Roger Corman directed Tales of Terror. For Romero’s take on the tale, he adds in a love triangle. A rich man is kept hypnotized by his doctor so that he and the soon to be widow, who are lovers, can swindle the man out of his fortune. His Survival is essential to their plan, but when he dies in his mesmerized state, he is trapped between the Land Of The Living and the Dead. I’ve heard many critics deride Romero’s half of the film as weak. I don’t think it’s weak, it’s just surprisingly subdued. It has none of the ferocity Romero showed at the Dawn of his career. It has a couple of great splashes of gore, but overall it almost feels like a rather tame episode of Tales From the Crypt. The addition of the EC comics style love triangle morality tale only supports this assessment. The cast is, for the most part, a Creepshow reunion. Adrienne Barbeau is excellent, and once again we have gratuitous Tom Atkins. Ramy Zada, as the doctor, is a Night and Day difference from the rest of the cast, however. He is AWFUL! Ben Stein reading from a narcoleptic’s Diary would be more interesting and exciting than him. The spirits that come for vengeance at the climax are very creepy, and the zombie makeups and “metronome scene” are well done. Overall, while it is a bit of a low key affair compared with some of George’s other work, it’s worth well watching. Plus, any time there’s a combination of Romero and zombies, I’m in. (Massive points to anyone who notices something interesting in that paragraph and comments on it.)

Argento's half of the film is where things really get good. He does an adaptation of The Black Cat, starring Harvey Keitel. As he would many times throughout his career, Keitel stole this movie. His crime scene photographer driven to homicide (in the case of his fiancé) and felicide (on her cat) is so violent and unhinged that the madness is palpable. I detest cats, but the scene where he finally snaps and goes crazy on his fiance’s pussy is intense! Wait, I mean...eh, nevermind. The supporting cast is ok, but you won’t even remember that there were other people in the b-side of the flick. Dario Argento is known for his innovative camera movement and baroque color schemes and framing, and they are both present in Two Evil Eyes. My favorite example is a POV shot from the perspective of a Pit and the Pendulum style blade swinging back and forth through a bisected body. Brilliant! I think one of my other favorite aspects of Argento’s story is the constant homages to other Poe stories. Fans will notice nods to Fall of the House of Usher, Cask of Amontillado, Berenice, Pit and the Pendulum, and others. As Argento has often cited Poe as an influence, it’s not surprising that he so deftly weaves details from so many stories together. The trademark Argento bizarreness is there too. Halfway through, out of nowhere, we get a dream sequence pagan ritual complete with Harvey being impaled Cannibal Holocaust style. Just as in Romero’s offering, the gore effects by Savini are outstanding. Honestly, I would have loved to see this on its own as a full length motion picture.

Romero’s half is good. Argento’s half is great. Overall, I think this is the best Poe inspired flick since the Corman and Price cycle of the 60’s. This film often gets undeservedly criticized for being a mixed bag, but this is an anthology that is more than the sum of its parts. Considering just how good those parts are, that’s saying something. Two severed thumbs up. Nathan says check it out.