LAND OF THE DEAD

Rating: 4

Zombies are intrinsically disturbing yet compelling. Dead, yet walking, stupid, yet lethal, slow, yet relentless. Never mind being unsightly. They are as perfect a fodder for metaphor as the brains of the living are for the zombies themselves, a conceit that George A. Romero has a particular knack for locking onto, as evidenced by his earlier work, including the seminal NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. In LAND OF THE DEAD, we have a sequel to that film that explores much more than what would happen if those pesky zombies somehow infected enough of the planet to make the living an unexpected minority.

The film opens with a montage of sights and sounds from that first flick, including, prophetically, a snippet of dialogue predicting that if the zombies developed even a rudimentary sort of intelligence, we the living would be in really big trouble. Trouble, as put into perspective by Kaufman (Dennis Hopper at his corporately sleazy best), is a relative term when the living dead roam the countryside. Of course trouble is the last thing on anyone’s mind in Fiddler’s Green, a shimmering tower of light, and perhaps the last remnant of life the way it used to be before zombies pretty much took over. Kaufman built and is in charge of this edifice, and the elite private army that, along with the wall, keeps the zombies out. To keep Fiddler’s Green supplied with the “essentials”, there is a team of scavengers combing the zombie-infested countryside to find things such as canned food, aspirin, and the other material goods that make life worth living for the residents of his planned community. Of course, the folks doing the scavenging, led by Riley (stalwart Simon Baker) reside in the slums, not the tower, and don’t get a crack at enjoying the stuff they risk life, limb, and eternal rest to procure. Further, as Riley’s second in command, Cholo (John Leguizamo) soon discovers, there’s more to getting to the head of the waiting list to get in, even with the piles of cash he’s made bringing black market goods into Fiddler’s Green.

As for the zombies, they probably wouldn’t mind the scavenging of they were a little more alert, it’s not like they need canned beets, or would use the shampoo. Unfortunately for the living, a gaggle of them are showing signs of being not quite as, you’ll pardon the term, brain dead, as zombies usually are. Riley, otherwise a fairly bright bulb, notes that they seem to be trying to be the community they were before turning to the dead side, and then gets on with liberating the goods for the ruling class. What one of the undead does eventually mind is the way the scavengers divert them with pretty fireworks, which the zombies can’t help but watch, and then mow them down with serious firepower. It’s that one zombie (Eugene Clark) who mobilizes the other zombies to, well, be just a little more organized, even if it’s only following his lead on things like marching on Fiddler’s Green.

This film has humor as brittle as a zombies skin and a sharp as their unsightly teeth. It’s similarly ruthless in taking down the status quo it’s commenting on in a way that never forgets that this is a very, very black comedy, emphasis on comedy. And black. Sure, there’s gore, though never quite devolving to the level of mere splatter film, and there’s a healthy dose of just plain silliness — a zombie cheerleader still clutches her pompoms, the zombie band still struggles on even if they’ve pretty lost the ability to figure out how the instruments work, and the visual pun on the concept of finger food. But the film works best on that deliciously, subversively subliminal level, twisting its metaphor of exploited underclasses such that a third of the way through, the zombies aren’t so much monsters anymore as just another downtrodden people, creating a peculiar sort of solidarity with slum-dwellers. When you consider that these zombies are still flesh-eaters shedding bits and pieces of themselves as they lumber along, that’s an accomplishment that is nothing less than stunning. Equally noteworthy is Clark’s performance, little more than garbled, though oddly evocative, grunts and a nascent gleam of reason in the eyes as the pieces fall into place. Not neatly into place, perhaps, but close enough. Which brings us to the scariest thing in this film full of classic jump-and-scream moments. It isn’t the scenes of life-and-death struggle as the living try to avoid becoming snack food, nor is it the ominous quiet as an army of the undead rises from beneath a river with mist swirling around them. No, the scariest moment is when that smart zombie looks at a gun and figures out what to do with it. In that moment, the living become toast, and the implications metaphorically for the first world are just as creepy.

LAND OF THE DEAD works on every level it aims for and then some. It may be a little gory for some, but this is a classic — smart, funny, and scary as hell.