Editorials
What Happened With George Romero’s Zombies?
Recently, I introduced George A. Romero’s 1968 revolutionary horror film Night of the Living Dead to a friend. She had never seen it and I, probably quite understandably, thought this to be a travesty. In fact, I was rather shocked that such a culturally important film, one that is so engrained in our mainstream society, had slipped her by, even if it is approaching its 50th anniversary.
Like any good horror fan, I rectified this situation. I put on the DVD, made some popcorn on the stove (microwave popcorn is the worst), and we watched the film, me seeing it for the countless time and her for the first, which made it all the more exciting to see how she would react during certain situations.
For some reason, as the film progressed I began to notice something that I hadn’t seen before. Perhaps it was because it’s been several years since I watched any of Romero’s Dead films, much less thought critically about them. But revisiting the original brought forth some scenes that made an eyebrow rise and questions start bouncing around in my head. Simply put, what happened with the zombies?
Okay, hear me out here. We all know that as the storyline progressed through Romero’s films, the zombies began to reenact the patterns and behaviors they were used to. Bub from Day of the Dead is a great example of a zombie that is trained to perform certain actions as a way of showing that they can remember, that there might be a way to live alongside them. Several zombies in Land of the Dead began to display these traits on their own. The “Big Daddy” zombie pretended to pump gas at the station, he managed to fire a gun, and he even acted as a leader to his zombie army, who clearly looked to him for guidance and assistance. But that pattern didn’t start in the later films. It began in Night of the Living Dead within the first 10 minutes!
After Johnny gets knocked out in the cemetery, the first zombie doesn’t begin eating him. Rather, it looks at Barbra and decides to chase after her. When she locks herself in the car, the zombie doesn’t just pound on the glass, it uses a rock to break the windshield after it tries, several times, to open the car door using the handle. I know that in Dawn of the Dead there are moments where zombies use tools in such ways. For example, there’s the zombie that uses a tire iron to break the truck window when Peter and Roger are trying to barricade the mall entrances. But the intelligence and resourcefulness of the zombies in Night of the Living Dead isn’t seen again for several films and, within that universe, several decades.
Remember when the zombies used rocks to smash the headlights of Ben’s truck? Or how they took turns reaching into the smoldering wreckage after the gas pump incident, each zombie grabbing a charred piece of either Tom or Judy and then letting the others have their fair share? There is a mentality to these creatures that was dropped in the sequels, which I must say is a shame.
Another example from Night of the Living Dead is Karen, the daughter of Harry and Helen. When Helen collapses against a basement wall, Karen doesn’t just kneel down and begin biting and eating her. Rather, she grabs a spade and begins stabbing her mother over and over again. This isn’t a mindless zombie, this is a cold-blooded killer.
So what happened? Why did Romero’s zombies change so much when it came to their intelligence and instincts? I’m writing this because I honestly don’t know and I want to hear your theories. Could it be that the zombies lost intelligence as their brains continued to decompose? If that’s the case, then how did they become smarter as the series continued? Could it be that the fresher the zombie, the more capable it is? I’m leaning towards this idea as it makes the most sense. But that still complicates the idea that they get smarter over time. Or could it be something as simple as, “Whoops! We didn’t realize and now we want to make them as mindless as possible?”
Chime in with your thoughts below and let us know how you view this interesting phenomenon!
Editorials
‘Leprechaun Returns’ – The Charm of the Franchise’s Legacy Sequel
The erratic Leprechaun franchise is not known for sticking with a single concept for too long. The namesake (originally played by Warwick Davis) has gone to L.A., Las Vegas, space, and the ‘hood (not once but twice). And after an eleven-year holiday since the Davis era ended, the character received a drastic makeover in a now-unmentionable reboot. The critical failure of said film would have implied it was time to pack away the green top hat and shillelagh, and say goodbye to the nefarious imp. Instead, the Leprechaun series tried its luck again.
The general consensus for the Leprechaun films was never positive, and the darker yet blander Leprechaun: Origins certainly did not sway opinions. Just because the 2014 installment took itself seriously did not mean viewers would. After all, creator Mark Jones conceived a gruesome horror-comedy back in the early nineties, and that format is what was expected of any future ventures. So as horror legacy sequels (“legacyquels”) became more common in the 2010s, Leprechaun Returns followed suit while also going back to what made the ‘93 film work. This eighth entry echoed Halloween (2018) by ignoring all the previous sequels as well as being a direct continuation of the original. Even ardent fans can surely understand the decision to wipe the slate clean, so to speak.
Leprechaun Returns “continued the [franchise’s] trend of not being consistent by deciding to be consistent.” The retconning of Steven Kostanski and Suzanne Keilly’s film was met with little to no pushback from the fandom, who had already become accustomed to seeing something new and different with every chapter. Only now the “new and different” was familiar. With the severe route of Origins a mere speck in the rearview mirror, director Kotanski implemented a “back to basics” approach that garnered better reception than Zach Lipovsky’s own undertaking. The one-two punch of preposterous humor and grisly horror was in full force again.
With Warwick Davis sitting this film out — his own choice — there was the foremost challenge of finding his replacement. Returns found Davis’ successor in Linden Porco, who admirably filled those blood-stained, buckled shoes. And what would a legacy sequel be without a returning character? Jennifer Aniston obviously did not reprise her final girl role of Tory Redding. So, the film did the next best thing and fetched another of Lubdan’s past victims: Ozzie, the likable oaf played by Mark Holton. Returns also created an extension of Tory’s character by giving her a teenage daughter, Lila (Taylor Spreitler).
It has been twenty-five years since the events of the ‘93 film. The incident is unknown to all but its survivors. Interested in her late mother’s history there in Devil’s Lake, North Dakota, Lila transferred to the local university and pledged a sorority — really the only one on campus — whose few members now reside in Tory Redding’s old home. The farmhouse-turned-sorority-house is still a work in progress; Lila’s fellow Alpha Epsilon sisters were in the midst of renovating the place when a ghost of the past found its way into the present.
The Psycho Goreman and The Void director’s penchant for visceral special effects is noted early on as the Leprechaun tears not only into the modern age, but also through poor Ozzie’s abdomen. The portal from 1993 to 2018 is soaked with blood and guts as the Leprechaun forces his way into the story. Davis’ iconic depiction of the wee antagonist is missed, however, Linden Porco is not simply keeping the seat warm in case his predecessor ever resumes the part. His enthusiastic performance is accentuated by a rotten-looking mug that adds to his innate menace.
The obligatory fodder is mostly young this time around. Apart from one luckless postman and Ozzie — the premature passing of the latter character removed the chance of caring about anyone in the film — the Leprechaun’s potential prey are all college aged. Lila is this story’s token trauma kid with caregiver baggage; her mother thought “monsters were always trying to get her.” Lila’s habit of mentioning Tory’s mental health problem does not make a good first impression with the resident mean girl and apparent alcoholic of the sorority, Meredith (Emily Reid). Then there are the nicer but no less cursorily written of the Alpha Epsilon gals: eco-conscious and ex-obsessive Katie (Pepi Sonuga), and uptight overachiever Rose (Sai Bennett). Rounding out the main cast are a pair of destined-to-die bros (Oliver Llewellyn Jenkins, Ben McGregor). Lila and her peers range from disposable to plain irritating, so rooting for any one of them is next to impossible. Even so, their overstated personalities make their inevitable fates more satisfying.
Where Returns excels is its death sequences. Unlike Jones’ film, this one is not afraid of killing off members of the main cast. Lila, admittedly, wears too much plot armor, yet with her mother’s spirit looming over her and the whole story — comedian Heather McDonald put her bang-on Aniston impersonation to good use as well as provided a surprisingly emotional moment in the film — her immunity can be overlooked. Still, the other characters’ brutal demises make up for Lila’s imperviousness. The Leprechaun’s killer set-pieces also happen to demonstrate the time period, seeing as he uses solar panels and a drone in several supporting characters’ executions. A premortem selfie and the antagonist’s snarky mention of global warming additionally add to this film’s particular timestamp.
Critics were quick to say Leprechaun Returns did not break new ground. Sure, there is no one jetting off to space, or the wacky notion of Lubdan becoming a record producer. This reset, however, is still quite charming and entertaining despite its lack of risk-taking. And with yet another reboot in the works, who knows where the most wicked Leprechaun ever to exist will end up next.
Horror contemplates in great detail how young people handle inordinate situations and all of life’s unexpected challenges. While the genre forces characters of every age to face their fears, it is especially interested in how youths might fare in life-or-death scenarios.
The column Young Blood is dedicated to horror stories for and about teenagers, as well as other young folks on the brink of terror.
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