A Fate Worse Than the Undead

In some half-assed attempt to maybe feel something, or at least distract myself from feeling nothing I thought it would be a good idea to rewatch Romero’s original Dead trilogy. I’m not sure why I ever thought this would be a good idea, it’s not as if watching mindless automatons scramble around moaning lethargichally is the common cure for apathy. Still it’s what I did and at least the anxiety is still very much intact. Maybe that’s a small win of sorts.

And maybe I am not entirely dead, because I still find these to be truly brilliant movies; plot, anxiety, execution and gore with a perfect bow on top. They’re close to movie master pieces. Especially the atmosphere of gnawing anxiety that sets in almost from the beginning and refuses its hold of you long past the end credits. It’s done in that same slow and relentless pace of the zombie shuffle. Slowly, slowly, it’s coming for you, no hurry, it’s got all the time in the world, because you are already lost. It’s awful and it is brilliant.

Ignoring the social commentary and the spectacular gore, there is that one other element that makes theses movies paints such a picture of complete defeat and hell. Especially the last two movies, the existence of only one woman in a world (albeit a small world) of men. Just the notion of being the last woman surrounded by nothing but men is as completely devastating for the soul as seeing the dead come back to life, maybe more so. It’s a world of forever being the minority, forever live under the threat of violence inflicted by you on men (because those are the scenarios painted) and most of all it’s a world where there are no other women. It’s literally like taking all sunshine and all the puppies out of the world and leaving only herpes and cold toes. The notion of having to live the rest of my life without the social interaction with other women is truly a fate worse than both death and undeath. It’d be a slow grinding down of the soul and an eternal depression.

Forever Alone

I don’t think that part was ever the intention, because these movies are so strongly based on a man’s narrative (the makers were probably completely ignorant to the fact that there’s even such a thing as a queer lady point of view) that they don’t even come close to question the loneliness of a world without peers. But for me it’s what turns horror movie into true nightmare.


~ by JH on August 31, 2014.

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