We All Got A Little Zombie in Us...(Part 1)

When it comes to monsters, gore, mayhem, and general other horror exploration, my personal love of a certain reanimated cannibalistic horde is second to none. Whether they run fast, lurk slow, desire flesh or just brains; whether they feast on novelties of being midgets, clowns, sumo-wrestlers, or CEO's, Zombies equal life's playing field and demolish social order. The Zombie is, as George A. Romero affectionately states, the blue collar monster.

As a fact, it is perfectly okay to shoot zombies in the head, as we deem them abominations because they practice cannibalism. Loss of humanity aside, they are still of the human race, correct? Is it murder to kill a human who is now an undead flesh-eating mob member? You could assume that not much separates a zombie from a hungry jungle cat (or at least those man-eating tigers in Siberia).

However, the paradox of the zombie film resides in the stipend of, in a word, bloodlust. The audience, paying their share to go see a film promising zombie mayhem, desire the same blood, gore, and dismemberment that the zombies of the film kill to obtain. The motivations of the horde mirror the motivations of the audience to see the film. While we sit in our comfy theatre chairs, mildly understanding that the survivalists need to be identified with to move the story of the film, what we really want is exactly what the zombies want.



In the Dawn of the Dead (2004) remake, we all sat, begging for the douche bag with the boat (and the death wish) to get devoured. Who did not cheer when the father from Night of the Living Dead (1968) got bit by his own daughter? What self-respecting audience member goes into a zombie film saying "Gee, Tina, I hope this isn't too gory!"

Too bad Tina's friend is so squeamish.


So, for the 90 minute road trip into the worst kind of apocalypse, the zombie motivations are kindred to the audience members. Harking back to the 1984 classic Return of the Living Dead, we reminisce the Undead's declaration for "Brains!" echoing our own desire for more: more brains, more guts, more red corn syrup laden cow intestines.

Not to violate our aesthetic distance, we consent that there will be survivalists. It is by dramatic law to have sympathetic characters with whom we travel on a journey. Their surprise and instinct push through a populous of Zombies who threaten to wipe out the human race by insatiable hunger alone. They map a journey to safe-ground. They hide out. They run. Inevitably, they find some weapon to bludgeon, blast, or blow-up the amassed throng to reach some impossible goal of survival. And, again, it is by a dramatic code that the film appeals to this survival by endurance.

The other side, the reason the film's have a strong impact, is the empathetic nature of the Zombies themselves, though this disrupts the norms of an "empathetic character." Zombies have no apparent character arc. Their linear characterization separates them from any leading role potential. Retrospectively, however, a Zombie proper follows the most simplistic rule of dramatic structure. During a zombie apocalypse based out of a virus, chemical spill, or space junk falling to earth (premise), a man or woman finds him or her self undead and craving human flesh (complication). Based on the tenants of Classical Hollywood structure, the action continues because we want to see what happens next. However, zombies have traditionally taken a backseat role to the survivors despite the pessimistic outcome of many films: Day of the Dead (Romero), Zombi 2 (Fulci), Dead Snow (Wirkola), Astro-Zombies (Mikels), Undead (Spierig), etc.

Rather than indulging any characterization, most zombie films maintain the rabble as a singular character of mass destruction, thus creating a schemata which dissolves any possible leading man, or woman, potential in the solitary zombie. Introduce exhibit A: Colin.
Colin (Price 2008) carries a reputation of the aforementioned type: the character with whom we sympathize, whose motives unapologetically captivate the audience, is the zombie himself. From bitten to biting, the story humanizes the title character, evolving the very type of drama which draws viewer to film. The sympathetic zombie has been more prevalent, in films such as Fido (2006) and I, Zombie (1998) in which a Zombie is given more humanity than the horde.

In this evolution, we have the chameleon that is the Zombie schemata. With its origins in horror, its conventions rooted in a primalism and loss of humanity, the Zombie has transcended its genesis and carried into comedy, drama, road-movies, and even romance (Boy Eats Girl (2005)). And with that, the lust is the same: the audience and the zombies desire blood - and no matter the genre - that is what they are going to get.