Zombie (1979)

Calling ZOMBIE a masterpiece is redundant. It's a given. Any horror fan worth his or her salt knows that ZOMBIE is a classic. If you dare to dub yourself a horror cinema aficionado without having seen ZOMBIE, you should be tarred n' feathered, then exiled from society. End of story.

Aside from being Lucio Fulci's most well-known and popular film, it has also, for years upon years upon years now, acted as a gateway drug for fledgling fright flick fanatics, introducing novice souls to the devilish delights of the Italian terror industry. Perhaps no movie has been more instrumental in exposing virgin minds to the unique brand of horror that originates in that fabled little boot-shaped country dangling off the ass-end of Europe than ZOMBIE. One could argue that SUSPIRIA has been just as instrumental, if not more so, but I refute that assertion. As good as SUSPIRIA is, the fact of the matter is that it's just too damn strange for most mainstream audiences, audiences who've not yet had a chance to sample the maniacal pleasures of pastaland splatter. If you've never seen an Italy-born horror movie before, you probably shouldn't start with SUSPIRIA. If anything, it might turn you off to the country's output, by virtue of its artsy-fartsy, nonlinear, nonsensical nature. ZOMBIE, I think, acts as a much better appetizer for those hoping to have a go at the psychotic spaghetti sauce that the Italian monster maestros have to offer. If all you've ever seen throughout your life are American zombie flicks, then ZOMBIE is the perfect way to dip the tip o' your toes into the blood-red waters of greaseball wop horror.

Think of it as the basket of mozzarella sticks you try before ordering the lasagna.


The story of ZOMBIE (also known as ZOMBI 2, ZOMBIE FLESH EATERS, and WOODOO) is American enough. If it weren't for the excruciatingly obvious approach to dubbing that all Italian motion pictures display, you'd never know this wasn't a U.S. production.

One day, in New York City, a mysterious schooner drifts into the harbor, seemingly unmanned. When the police board it to investigate, they are, horror of horrors, attacked by the lurching, lugubrious living dead! The boat is then quarantined as a crime scene, a crime scene which is then infiltrated by a bloodhound journalist (played by ALIEN CONTAMINATION and DOCTOR BUTCHER M.D. star Ian McColloch, here sporting, as always, an amusingly ineffectual comb-over) who is looking for the next big scoop. He is accompanied by a woman (played by Tisa Farrow, Mia's sister, who was also an actress in another notable guido gore films, Joe D'Amato's ANTHROPOPHAGOUS) who is in fact the daughter of the man whom the boat belongs to, a man who is suspiciously absent, and a man whom said daughter is worried sick about. Thanks to their gumshoe investigations, the reporter and the girl are led to the deadly tropical island of Matool. The two are led there by a pair of hapless vacationers with a boat whom they convince to come along for the ride (one of the vacationers, by the way, is the always awesome Al Cliver, star of the cooler-than-cool post-nuke b-flick ENDGAME and one of my favorite Italian actors of all time). Once on Matool, the fearful foursome soon discovers that a voodoo plague has taken over the island, turning all the dead into cannibalistic gutmunchers. The evil spreads like an infection, causing anyone that the lifeless shamblers sink their teeth into... to also transform into mindless, moaning, flesh-chomping rotters.

Truth be told, I feel almost stupid writing this review. Honestly, there's nothing I can say here that hasn't already been said a hundred times before. This flick hits all the notes a good zombie movie needs: excessive scenes of graphic gore, a sequence wherein one of the main characters comes back as a ghoul, a doom-laden "they're everywhere!" siege sequence, and a bleak, apocalyptic ending. Heck, ZOMBIE is one of the very reasons that such elements are nowadays considered archetypal zombie movie staples. Furthermore, besides having arguably the single most iconic zombie image in all of horrordom (next to Mike Jackson's appearance in the "Thriller" video and Kyra Schon's ghoulish gaze from NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD) with its poster art image of a wormy-eyed cadaver, this motion picture, also, is unquestionably one of the ten best zombie movies ever made, right up their, in my opinion, with Fulci's own GATES OF HELL, Romero's original NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, DAWN OF THE DEAD, and DAY OF THE DEAD, Peter Jackson's DEAD ALIVE, Michele Soavi's DELLAMORTE DELLAMORE (a.k.a. CEMETERY MAN), Stuart Gordon's RE-ANIMATOR, Dan O'Bannon's RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD, and Amando De Ossorio's TOMBS OF THE BLIND DEAD (for the record, I just wanna make it clear: I'm excluding the EVIL DEAD films here because I classify them more as "possession" movies than "zombie" movies... otherwise, they'd totally make the list).


Since I've already admitted the inevitable redundancy that this review is destined to trudge through, how's about you n' me get the reeeeeally redundant stuff out of the right now, so that we can hurry up and get to the stuff that's only kinda redundant. Sound like a hoot? Hmmm, not really. But let's do this shit anyway.

Okay, so, first off, let's get this "title of the movie" business out of the way. For the grand total of none o' you out there reading this who don't already know the story, let me fill you in. In Italy, George Romero's DAWN OF THE DEAD was released with a different title. It was called "ZOMBI." There, as in the U.S., DAWN was a huge hit. The Italian film industry immediately latched on to the film's success, as it is typically wont to do, and soon began churning out a swarm of zombie movies. The first and most successful of these cash-in flicks was called ZOMBI 2. Mind you, ZOMBI 2 was in no way, shape, or form directly related to DAWN OF THE DEAD. This was all just a clever little bit of opportunism on behalf of ZOMBI 2's creators n' promoters. The only thing that ZOMBI 2 had in common with ZOMBI was the title and the focus on, well, zombies.


When ZOMBI 2 was released in America, its title was changed to ZOMBIE, by virtue of the fact that there was no ZOMBI in the U.S. ("ZOMBI" was just the Italian title of DAWN OF THE DEAD, remember?). I'm sure some enterprising huckster considered calling Fulci's film DAWN OF THE DEAD 2 before the fear of being sued into next week scared that questionable notion right out of said advertising guru's balding little huckster head. After all, we here in the good ol' U.S. of A are rather territorial over things like intellectual property and copyright infringement, much more so than in Italy, where the practice of ripping off just about everything is not only alive and well, but also a time-honored (read: gleefully notorious) tradition.

So anyway, ZOMBI 2 was released in America as ZOMBIE, touted not as an unofficial sequel to DAWN but rather as an individual film all its own. As it rightly should've been from the beginning because, frankly, ZOMBIE is so good it doesn't even need to trade on any other motion picture's success to get asses into the seats.

Naturally, all this nomenclature nuttiness led to some serious confusion later on down the road when ZOMBIE got its own Italian-lensed sequels, and even more confusion when you take into account the number of rip-offs that ripped off ZOMBIE and touted themselves as unofficial sequels in direct contradiction to the film's official sequels. Gah! To give you a taste of the weirdness, check this: ZOMBI 3 was released in both Italy and America as ZOMBI 3, despite the fact that there was no such thing as a ZOMBI 1 or 2 in America. And unwitting U.S. citizens who assumed ZOMBI 3 was the second sequel to the movie they knew as ZOMBIE were baffled by the non-existence of ZOMBIE 2. To compound the problem, Andrea Bianchi's BURIAL GROUND: THE NIGHTS OF TERROR was released in some territories as ZOMBIE 3, despite the fact that, surprise surprise, it had absolutely no connection whatsoever to Uncle Lucio's infamous flick. Actually, the fact that the "official" sequel, ZOMBI 3 had almost no relation to ZOMBIE probably didn't help either.

All this, and we're only skating across the very tip of the iceberg here. Oi vey!


Moving on, now that the issue of the movie's title has been touched upon, let's indulge in some more redundancy, shall we? Yes we shall. At least this time it's fun redundancy (re-fun-dancy? ...naaaah, bad pun, too bad for even me). I'm referring, of course, to ZOMBIE's two most talked-about sequences: the splinter-in-the-eye scene and the zombie-versus-shark scene.

Anyone who's seen more than a few Fulci flicks should have noticed that the man had quite an obsession with ocular violence. The subtext of that could probably be delved into for hours, but, dammit, I don't have that kinda time (nor interest). So let me just explain to you why this splinter-in-the-eye thingamajig is such a damned Awesome-with-a-capital-A thingamajig.

In the movie, there is a scene where a woman (fresh out of a not-exploitative-at-all-no-really shower scene) finds her home under assault by a horde of unholy undead. Hiding in a room and locking the door, she thinks herself safe. Obviously, she is very, very wrong. As she trembles in mortal terror, the door suddenly splinters, as desiccated corpse hands claw through the holes in the wood, reaching out for her. One of the zombies grabs her by the scalp, and starts pulling her towards him. She struggles to get away, but his grip is too strong. Rigor mortis: it's a bitch, no?

Slowly, her head is pulled face-first towards the broken door. One long n' jagged-ass chunk of shattered wood juts out towards her. The zombie continues pulling. Inch by agonizing inch, she watches in horror, unable to escape the bastard's grasp, as the splinter looms ever closer. We can clearly see it's on a collision course with her eye. Oh, holy Mary, mother of god, she's only a centimeter away now! Then... it goes in! Holy shit it actually went in!!! The camera didn't cut away or nothin', man!!!


It's one of those defining moments as a horror fan, the kinda that makes your jaw go slack for just a moment, before a huge grin overtakes your face and excited grunts of "fucking awesome!" slip out from between your lips. It's shocking, horrible, and completely exhilarating. You expect the camera to cut away, but it never does. The splinter penetrates the woman's cornea, impaling the eyeball. Then, to add bloody icing to the crimson cake, the whole damn hunk o' wood breaks off from the door, leaving a good three inches (at least) of jagged nastiness embedded in the poor gal's face. As far as scenes of violence in horror cinema goes, this is one of the most unforgettable moments of all time. It's savage, brutal, mean-spirited, and downright brilliant.

The only thing that could possibly compete with the genius of the splinter-in-the-eye sequence is the zombie-versus-shark scene. It may not be as raw or ugly, but it makes up for what it lacks in brutality with sheer lunacy. Unless you have a learning disability, I'm sure you can figure out what happens in the subtly titled "zombie-versus-shark" scene. Nevertheless, let me spell it out for you.

A zombie fights a shark.

Bada-bing, bada-boom. What else do you need to know?

A zombie.

Fights.

A shark.

...

Doesn't get much more fucking awesome than that, kids.


First off, it gets goin' with a great start, as the beautiful Auretta Gay doffs her top for a little skinnydip-style deep sea divin'. After trading her top for a pair o' goggles, an oxygen tank, n' a set o' flippers (nothin' sexier than a gal wearin' flippers, I alway say), the lovely lass jumps out in the ocean and journeys down below to explore all the splendor that the aquatic wonderland has to offer. Or some such shit. The important thing is, after she's had some time to bask in the beauty of Mother Nature's moist n' salty womb, she ends up getting attacked by a shark. Before the toothy bastard can do her any damage, though, she gets attacked by an underwater zombie too! Unfortunately, this does not lead to any scenes of hardcore X-rated deep sea bestiality/necrophilia/three-way pornography. Aw, fiddlesticks The topless tart manages to escape, and leaves her carnivorous consorts behind to battle one another. The shark takes a bite out of the zombie. The zombie takes a bite out of the shark. Gross green blood clouds the water as the sinister submariner gets his whole dang arm bitten off by his fin-headed adversary. And all is right with the world.

Some people have scratched their heads wonderin' where in the heck such a bizarre idea as this ever could've come from. To me, it seems quite obvious. I can totally picture some fettuccini-gobblin’ goombah sittin' 'round somwhere in Italy trying to come up with an idea for a horror movie. "Okay-a," he says "the-a two-a biggest-a horror-a hits-a of-a this-a era-a are-a... DAWN OF THE DEAD-a and-a JAWS-a." How-a, he wonders, can-a he-a combine-a them-a?

Thus ZOMBIE was born.

Also... I think I just "thus" offended every reader of Italian descent I've ever had.

Bah. Fascists.


All kidding aside, ZOMBIE isn't all titties, eye-gouging, and shark fights. There's also maggots, eviscerations, and Molotov cocktails! Seriously though, ZOMBIE offers more than mere low brow thrills. Uncle Lucio wasn't simply a schlocky splatter-spattered spaghetti chef, he was also a master of atmosphere, subliminal dread, and surrealism. While his penchant for the surreal is downplayed here (for the most part) there's nonetheless no shortage of atmosphere and subliminal dread. The kind of heady doom-and-gloom that Fulci's horror pictures revel in is potent here, as it is always. Anyone who has seen THE GATES OF HELL, THE BEYOND, or HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY and wondered if Lucio could still pull off that kind of oppressive, suffocating, end-of-the-world grimness without the aid of fog machines, heavy black shadows, and cramped, grey, crumbling gothic architecture will find that, yes, he damn well can. The lush beach n' jungle locations are absolutely beautiful, photographed here in all their vibrant, sunny, gorgeous glory, perfectly capturing the feel of a tropical vacation gone very, very wrong.

The exotic island setting is great, and feels extremely fresh, if only because you rarely see a movie of this type in that kind of location. Usually the only time you see these kinds of hot, colorful, sandy, sunny, scenic, beach/jungle locales is when killer fish, snakes, or dinosaurs are involved. The juxtaposition of idyllic, equatorial paradise trappings with the grisly, putrid decay of the living dead works wonders, and Fulci never lets the glamorous greenery or sun-kissed beaches get in the way of his ability to conjure up feelings of ominous, encroaching horror seemingly at will.

The tropical locale also comes with an interesting side-effect, as the almost wholesale rejection of the modern world in favor of somewhat more primitive island communities leads to ZOMBIE reuniting the titular beastie with its vodoun origins. Gone are the radioactive isotopes, toxic chemicals, genetic manipulation projects, and alien diseases of modern metropolitan gutmucher movies. Though the exact motivations behind ZOMBIE's unceasing undead are never fully revealed, it is implied that the supernatural drumbeats of some age-old black magick ceremony are to blame. Taking things to another level, Uncle Lucio actually addresses the conflict between science and superstition by introducing a logical, right-brain doctor character (played by Richard Johnson, whose credits additionally include THE HAUNTING, ISLAND OF THE FISHMEN, BEYOND THE DOOR, and THE MONSTER CLUB) who gives it his all trying to discern the reasons for the zombie plague, and perhaps come up with a suitable cure. Fittingly, all his efforts are for naught. Here, the advances of mankind are devoured by forces older and more powerful than humanity's short-lived, short-sighted sciences.

On the subject of the living dead, it's worth noting that Fulci's zombies have a particular sorrowful quality to them that highlights their soullessness, and the cold, blank oblivion that death itself represents. Of the four main types of classic movie monster archetypes, zombies have always been my favorite. I like zombies best, werewolves second best, vampires third, and ghosts come in straggling at the very back of the pack. What can I say? Most ghost stories just don't do it for me.

Getting back to the topic under discussion, the reason that I love zombies so much is exactly because of what Lucio Fulci so lovingly fosters in his ghouls: that soullessness, that sorrow, that cold, blank oblivion, the very essence of death. I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's the slow, unyielding persistence and faceless, mindless morbidity... these are the things that make zombies so unsettling, so terrifying. And these are the reasons why movies like Zack Snyder's atrocious DAWN OF THE DEAD remake just miss the fucking point. Fast zombies suck. Slow zombies rule.


Y'know, despite the fact that Italy's history showcases no shortage of talented horror filmmakers, and despite the fact that Mario Bava is (rightfully) considered the reigning godfather of the genre over there, the discussion about just who the greatest Italian horror filmmaker of all-time actually is typically comes down to a one-on-one throwdown between Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento. For my money, Uncle Lucio has always had the edge. Period.

I love Argento, I do. I'm entranced by his otherworldly lyricism and psychedelic use of color. But, while Argento has quite the sadistic killer instinct himself, it's Fulci's brutal misanthropy that really gets me hot (so to speak). Argento is oft-times a little too icy for my tastes. The man is the consummate voyeur. He stands outside the story, looking in, observing it coldly. Fulci, meanwhile, mixes himself into the thick of things. He gets right up in there, sticks his hand deep inside, and pulls out the story's nasty, grimy, blood-caked black heart.

Fulci forgoes color for the absence of light. The psychedelia of a Fulci flick comes not from its visuals, but from its disjointed, schizophrenic narrative. All of Fulci's horror films stink like the grave, as if the man waltzed into a cemetery late at night with a shovel, and dug the very film reels out from the bottom of an unmarked burial plot. His horror pictures are rotten, lamentful, and viciously nihilistic. I can think of no more perfect word to describe Lucio Fulci's oeuvre than "nightmarish." For that reason, and more, I will, now and forever, unreservedly pick Fulci over Argento... every damn time.

On top of that, I gotta tell ya... I consider Fulci to be my number one favorite filmmaker of all time (the other four in my vaunted Top Five are Lloyd Kaufman, Alejandro Jodorowsky, John Waters, and Sergio Leone... just so ya know). So I guess you could say that I'd unreservedly pick Fulci over anyone/everyone every damn time.

Fact of the matter is, Fulci was a magnificent cinematic chameleon who worked in virtually every major film genre over the course of his lengthy thirty-plus year career. In his day, he'd done it all, trying his hand at sci-fi (NEW GLADIATORS), fantasy (CONQUEST), musical comedy (THE JUKEBOX KIDS), westerns (MASSACRE TIME), erotic potboilers (THE DEVIL'S HONEY), crime (CONTRABAND), and even historical dramas (BEATRICE CENCI). But, as good as many of those pictures are (or aren't), it was Uncle Lucio's journeys into the horror genre that were most outstanding. Simply put, the man had a natural-born gift for this stuff. In horror flicks like SEVEN NOTES IN BLACK, LIZARD IN A WOMAN'S SKIN, DON'T TORTURE A DUCKLING, AENIGMA, THE NEW YORK RIPPER, DEMONIA, THE BEYOND, HOUSE BY THE CEMETERY, DOOR INTO SILENCE, TOUCH OF DEATH, MURDER ROCK, A CAT IN THE BRAIN, THE GATES OF HELL, and, yes, ZOMBIE... that is where the talents of the late, great Lucio Fulci fully blossomed.


When someone has such an inherent, in-born reservoir of raw skill like that, it's an amazing and uplifting thing to witness. And it's hard to beat. When it comes to horror, Lucio Fulci is really, reeeeeally damn hard to beat. Those who accuse him of being a hack, I accuse them of being uneducated. To those who say his movies make no sense, I say "Look closer. Look deeper." 'Cause, you know what? They make perfect sense to me. Truth is, it's not a question of whether or not Fulci's films make sense. It's question or whether or not you get it. You either do, or you don't. Some people will just never "get it." I feel sorry for those lost n' forsaken souls. They have no idea the kind o' goooood shit that they're missin' out on.

In my estimation, ZOMBIE is a near perfect movie. From Gianetto De Rossi's creatively crusty, lo-fi F.X. to Fabio Frizzi's foul (I mean that in a good way), lethargic (good way again), slightly video game-esque (ditto kiddo) score, there's so much about ZOMBIE to love. Admittedly, it's not quite as good as THE GATES OF HELL, and there are a few glaring flubs and ill-advised choices sprinkled throughout, but, in the end, ZOMBIE is still a thing of greatness all its own. That's why I proudly keep an autographed ZOMBIE poster (signed by Al Cliver, Ian McCulloch, Richard Johnson, and Ottaviano Dell’Acqua... sweeeeet!) in a place of honor in my home. This is the kind of film that, like many a Fulci film, I could watch a thousand, thousand, thousand times, and I'd never get sick of it. Yes sir, I'd be totally captivated every single time. The only thing that could tear me away from a viewing of this awesomely awesome, uber-awesome awesome movie would be the opportunity to lovingly nuzzle my way out from the bottom of a seven-girl dogpile made up o' Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Lindsay Lohan, Miley Cyrus, Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens, and Brenda Song (an event which would definitely never get the family-friendly seal of approval from the Mickey Mouse, I can tell you that). Alas, since the chances of that ever happening are slim-to-none (to say the least), I think Lucio's near-mystical hold over my sick n' twisted soul is here to stay.


Like I said at the beginning of this long-winded write-up, ZOMBIE is a true classic, a legend looming large within the hallowed halls of splatterpunk royalty, much like its director. If you haven't seen it, make it a point to. If you don't like it... what the hell is wrong with you, homeslice?!?

ZOMBIE rocks. Fulci lives. 'Nuff said.

Until next slime...
Stay sick!
Your pickled pal,
William Weird.



Rating: 4.5 out of 5 maggot-infested undead eyeholes
Recommendation: buy it
Best moment: traumatic ocular impalement