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[It Came From the ‘80s] ‘Day of the Dead’ and Its Endearing Zombie Bub

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zombie movies to stream Day of the DEad

With horror industry heavy hitters already in place from the 1970s, the 1980s built upon that with the rise of brilliant minds in makeup and effects artists, as well as advances in technology. Artists like Rick Baker, Rob Bottin, Alec Gillis, Tom Woodruff Jr., Tom Savini, Stan Winston, and countless other artists that delivered groundbreaking, mind-blowing practical effects that ushered in the pre-CGI Golden Age of Cinema. Which meant a glorious glut of creatures in horror. More than just a technical marvel, the creatures on display in ‘80s horror meant tangible texture that still holds up decades laterGrotesque slimy skin to brutal transformation sequences, there wasn’t anything the artists couldn’t create. It Came From the ‘80s is a series that will pay homage to the monstrous, deadly, and often slimy creatures that made the ‘80s such a fantastic decade in horror.

The third entry of George A. Romero’s Dead series shows the world completely inundated by zombies. What little of humanity is left remains barricaded underground clinging to survival while scientists remain hopeful for a cure.  Though the numbers have vastly dwindled prior to the start of the film, the future of civilization looks bleak due to the handful of remaining survivors being unable to get along.  Nestled between the pragmatic scientists and the increasingly unhinged soldiers lies Dr. Matthew Logan (Richard Liberty, The Crazies), the cheerful lead scientist, and his favorite test subject Bub, a zombie that shares more in common with Frankenstein’s creation than he does the rest of his kind.

Played by the amiable Sherman Howard, Bub is a docile zombie that loves listening to music, saluting soldiers, and even uttering mostly unintelligible speech. Dr. Logan has deduced that keeping Bub well-satiated means that he’s no longer driven by his hunger impulses that render zombies the feeding frenzied undead that they are. So, for all of Bub’s endearing charm, there’s always an undercurrent of danger; if Bub doesn’t stay fed, well, he’ll revert back to his impulsive ways. Luckily, Romero ensures that Bub retains some memory of who treated him well and who didn’t when starvation mode inevitably sets it. All of this to say that Bub became the breakout star of Day of the Dead.

Due to budget constraints that left Romero rewriting the script multiple times, Bub almost turned out very differently. When Sherman was first cast to play the zombie, the initial script he read saw Bub as a leader of a team of trained zombie fighters. Bub would’ve been far less docile and much more of a Wild West rough and tumble type. Romero’s rewrite removed that component of Bub, and his collaborative style meant that Sherman had the freedom to shape Bub even further into sympathetic terrain.

While Sherman was responsible for breathing undead life into Bub, the special makeup effects also played a major role in Bub’s horror icon status. Romero once again reteamed with Tom Savini for Day of the Dead, who filled out his crew with talents like sculptor John Vulich (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files), sculptor Mike Trcic (Jurassic Park, In the Mouth of Madness), mechanization specialist Dave Kindlon (Predator, The Blob, The Monster Squad), Everett Burrell (Pan’s Labyrinth, Blade: Trinity), Greg Nicotero (The Mist, The Walking Dead), and Howard Berger (The Mist, The Walking Dead). Bub may have been a centerpiece character, but the crew created no shortage of gruesome and gory zombies. Dr. Tongue is another favored standout.

Lori Cardille’s research scientist Sarah may be the audience proxy and the lead protagonist, but Romero often considered Bub to be the central character. In his Dead series, it’s always the humans that are the true monsters, and Romero’s affection for his undead creations are clear. In this case, it’s the ruthless Captain Henry Rhodes (Joseph Pilato) and his team of amoral men that are the villains. Bub is just a misunderstood zombie. Thanks to great makeup work and a powerfully charming performance by Sherman, Bub remains an all-time great horror character.

Horror journalist, RT Top Critic, and Critics Choice Association member. Has appeared on PBS series' Monstrum, served on the SXSW Midnighter shorts jury, and moderated horror panels for WonderCon, SeriesFest, and Popcorn Frights Film Fest.

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Editorials

Forgotten ’80s Satanic Panic Horror Gem ‘The Kiss’ Is Worth Rediscovering

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Joanna Pacula is Felice Dunbar in The Kiss

Horror was thriving so well in the 1980s that movies like Pen Densham’s The Kiss (1988) would understandably get lost in the shuffle, only to then gain their fans later on in life. Even still, this one Canadian-American curio has had a more challenging time than others, as far as contemporary reevaluations go, which is very likely due to the movie’s limited availability—at least as of this write-up.

However, the scarceness of The Kiss, while a bit annoying, makes it like catnip for ‘80s horror completists everywhere. Hopefully, a lot of them will walk away satisfied after watching this hidden gem.

Even though The Kiss was intended as the first of several horror collaborations between Astral Pictures and TriStar, as well as the first feature produced by Densham, Richard B. Lewis and John Watson’s Trilogy Entertainment Group, it ended up being the only one produced from that former union. Once the movie was released, TriStar’s distribution jitters—they opted for a regional rollout—did the $6-million flick no favors. TriStar’s cold feet toward horror releases have been well noted, but The Kiss still did a tad better than Night of the Creeps (1986), another genre outing that flopped due to its regional opening.

Shot in Montreal, but set in Albany, New York, The Kiss—which was still called The Host just a few months before its October premiere—concerns an average middle-class family and their forthcoming situation. The uncanny problem in store for them was, in fact, set in motion some years earlier. As that hot and dusty flashback to the Belgian Congo shows, a familial curse was set upon the two Dunbar sisters well before Meredith Salenger’s teenage character was born.

the kiss

Meredith Salenger, Nicholas Kilbertus and Mimi Kuzyk in The Kiss

The Kiss, which was based on a story by co-writer Stephen Volk (Ghostwatch) and penned by both Volk and Tom Ropelewski, has the outward appearance of The Stepfather (1987). This movie, though, is anything but a gender-flipped retread of that classic domestic disturber. For starters, The Kiss is far less grounded in reality—that much is clear from its unsettling opening scene. There, a trusting girl (Priscilla Mouzakiotis) is the victim of her own deceptive aunt (Céline Lomez); the movie’s titular act, and the story’s first shock, becomes the means of transferring an ancient evil from one host to another.

In the present day, Salenger’s role of Amy Halloran, a religious schoolgirl, is dealt a harsh blow in life once her mother, Hilary Halloran née Dunbar (Pamela Collyer), suddenly dies in a freak accident. But rather than a complete stranger sweeping the Halloran widower (Nicholas Kilbertus) off his feet some months later, Joanna Pacula’s character is that chosen temptress. Here, Pacula plays the grown-up version of the afflicted girl last seen in the movie’s opener. Since Amy’s mother is insistent about there being no reunion between estranged sisters, and she even contemplates buying a gun shortly before her tragic demise, it’s presumable that Aunt Felice poses a threat to her family.

The Kiss isn’t a movie ever too concerned about its own predictability. The audience is indeed often one step ahead of the story here, but also keep in mind how every one of those steps is loud. Take, for instance, the death of Amy’s mother; the Halloran matriarch goes out in garish, gruesome fashion, as a supernaturally commandeered truck sends Collyer’s character through a store window first, then leaves her one leg short. The directorial enthusiasm truly comes out in horrific moments such as these.

The Kiss is always sure to revel in its characters’ ills and misfortunes. So if the plot doesn’t impress, then its lurid parts should. Amy’s mother’s exit scene was proof of an eager, first-time horror director proving his worth. Then, bestie Heather (Sabrina Boudot) survives to tell the tale of a bizarre escalator mishap that, despite showing relatively less gore, spikes viewers’ empathy meter. The wilder bits of this movie, however, commence with that inevitable hookup between Felice and Amy’s bewitched father; their kitchen coitus is paralleled by Amy’s feverish classroom terror. The outcome there is a disquieting cross-cut of sex magic and a young woman’s menstrual onset plus hallucinations.

Sabrina Boudot in The Kiss

From foam appliances to bladders, that parade of special effects in The Kiss casts its own spell on the audience. Felice’s familiar, a visibly malevolent cat, was realized here with several models, some more articulate than others. Admittedly, the demon cat’s not as convincing as most of the effects here, but accepting that artifice, as opposed to fighting it, will make the whole experience way more enjoyable. As for the makeup used to manifest Felice’s inner villainy, it is more minimal and subtle than one might like; yet the work done to turn Pacula into an antithesis of herself is nonetheless compelling.

The otherworldly perils and dreadful goings-on wouldn’t work half as well as they do in The Kiss without the story’s contrast effect. Finding frights in picturesque, extremely ordinary settings was something that took off in the ‘80s, thanks to that sweeping shift to locales like the suburbs. And Amy’s home, a replica of a real Montreal suburban house, is the ideal battleground for any proper good-versus-evil story. It’s also prime real estate for this movie’s satanic panic-inspired horrors.

Because of their ostensibly similar plots, The Kiss has been compared to The Exorcist (1973). Except in Densham’s movie, the sinister, non-Christian entity targeting a teen girl lies within something less apparent and, perhaps, more devastating upon its exposure. To an outsider, Pacula’s Aunt Felice is too beautiful and unobjectionable to ever suspect of being a monster. More suspicious is how quickly she rips into the fabric of the Halloran home. Felice’s mere presence upsets the “texture of family life,” according to the director.

the kiss

The demon cat in The Kiss

Taking out Amy’s mother and best friend, and distracting her father, would suggest The Kiss is playing by a different set of rules. It is initially leaving its adolescent target unsupported in a rather grim scenario. In contrast, though, this story offers up a surrogate parent who does her best to fill in the holes of Amy’s eroding home life. Mimi Kuzyk does good work as that family friend and doctor, Brenda, who guides the lost child without also steering her in any one direction; she is naturally skeptical of Amy’s accusations until it’s almost too late to do anything about them. So although The Kiss does an admirable job of undoing the main character’s support system, it never leaves her without a lifeline. This dark movie, in spite of everything that’s transpired, doesn’t deprive itself of light and hope.

The Kiss is a potent mélange of familiar ideas. If not for the director’s surprise flair for horror, though, the movie would have been less effective. What a shame that Pen Densham didn’t continue with the genre. As for Joanna Pacula, she is, too, owed credit as the wicked vixen opposite Meredith Salenger’s pitiable Amy; she never fails to be unsettling in her role. Pacula makes Aunt Felice a sexy yet intimidating character.

For horror that steadily doles out madness and menace, while also delivering a flashy and ghastly conclusion, The Kiss is certain to please. Yes, it’s cheesy all the way, but most favorably, everyone involved plays everything straight. That kind of commitment goes a long way with this movie.

The Kiss

The Kiss

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