There are a lot of words that could be used to describe filmmaker George Romero – pioneer, provocateur, hack, horror king, social commentator, genius. But no matter what the scholars or film buffs may say about him, one thing is certain: George Romero makes a damn fine zombie movie.

In spite of the numerous films with the phrase “Living Dead” in the title, there are only four that have Romero’s directorial stamp of approval – the original 1968 classic Night of the Living Dead, 1978’s Dawn of the Dead, the 1985 film Day of the Dead and 2005’s long-anticipated Land of the Dead. I was there right in the front row when the film opened in the theatres in June 2005, and waited with bated breath until the unrated director’s edition was released on DVD in October.

Originally titled "Dead Reckoning", Land of the Dead depicts an alternate world almost 40 years after the first zombie devastation. The living dead have been relegated to either listless non-lives in the suburbs or exploitation by the humans who remain. In this world, zombies and people coexist – and anyone can get used to anything.

But hey - you think the living have problems? Try being one of the dead!

The zombies (known in this film as “stenches”) have come full circle and now represent the docile suburban masses they no doubt were in real life; the only difference now is that when they wander through their lives in a catatonic stupor, their repetitive gestures seem at once sad and truly meaningless. A crew of living vigilantes fills their days roaming through the hollows of outlying regions in Dead Reckoning, a beast of a vehicle, in search of food, contraband, and fun in the form of rampant zombie slaughter. At one point, these ne’er-do-well living folk start roaming through an all-zombie neighborhood, gunning down anyone on their path. Good-hearted vigilante Riley Dembo (Simon Baker) comments about the carnage, “I thought this was gonna be a battle. It’s a fucking massacre.”

The only distraction the dead seem to have are “sky flowers in the graveyard” – fireworks shot into the sky long enough for the walkers (the living) to escape. That quickly changes, though. Big Daddy (Eugene Clark), a former gas station attendant, gets a machine gun that’s left behind and leads his zombie minions to fight for themselves. I just imagine Big Daddy screaming, “Get outta my town, you punk living bastards!” before charging off into the night with his glassy-eyed followers trailing lazily behind.

Meanwhile, Cholo (John Leguizamo), a swarthy, mercenary shitheel, is given a major letdown when imperious stuffed shirt Kaufman (played brilliantly by Dennis Hopper) informs him that, despite his years of service, he is simply “the wrong kind” to live in Fiddler’s Green, the luxury apartment complex/mall Kaufman lords over. Cholo’s retaliation? He steals that centipedal tank known as Dead Reckoning, demanding $2M in cash from Kaufman for its return. Kaufman in turn recruits a band of mercenaries from jail to get Dead Reckoning back. The team, comprised of Riley, Slack (Asia Argento) Charlie (Robert Joy), and three other military folk, must decide whether to follow orders or steal Dead Reckoning themselves.

Unlike a lot of horror film aficionados who grew up watching these sorts of movies and thus bring a more visceral appreciation to them, I didn’t start truly enjoying horror movies until I was an adult. And the #1 thing I love about them? The social commentary. The whole premise of the horror genre is to force an individual to look at the harsh, brutal and often suppressed aspects of human nature. Zombie films specifically do this well because of the post-apocalyptic, “every man for himself” ambiance.

Class, race and gender are three subject addressed in all of George Romero’s zombie films, and most clearly with Land of the Dead.

Bourgeois pig Kaufman is safely locked away in Fiddler’s Green, the elite luxury complex full of shopping and snobs. Once again, the wealthy few lord over the impoverished (or undead) many. This place is Dawn of the Dead to the nth degree. Residents eat, sleep, make love, shop and live all in the same building. Theirs is another state of catatonia: a blind drooling denial about their lives going to crap or about the undead around them, unless said zombies are being exploited for their own amusement.

It is their callous disregard for the outside world (they’re essentially living in one big [phallic] glass house) that causes their demise. By operating under the assumption that zombies – always a metaphor for the docile, easily led masses – are not capable of enough conscious thought to take up arms against their oppressors – is what causes the upper echelon of society to crumble. One moment particularly delighted me. Big Daddy laughs in joy when he finds a jackhammer in the street in the middle of the zombies’ pilgrimage; he uses it to break through the glass windows and let his gang in to cause havoc on the ridiculously isolated overprivileged residents of Fiddler’s Green.

There is irony here, however. The zombies are presumed brainless; they don’t think. They are collectively led by Big Daddy. The living, though, aren’t much different. They, too, have their leaders, whether money men like Kaufman, self-servers like Cholo, or heroes like Riley.

Next, there’s the issue of race. Romero was considered a pioneer when, in 1968, he cast African-American actor Duane Jones in the lead role of Ben in Night of the Living Dead. Savvy horror fans will notice the presence of a strong black male character in every Romero zombie film that followed, including Land of the Dead. The difference this time around is that, instead of fighting against the zombies, Big Daddy is the zombie leader, and he is a fierce father when it comes to his brood.

The rabid anger that triggers Big Daddy’s decision to take up arms against his oppressors comes with the brutal death of one of his own. A zombie’s head get sawed off by machine gun fire, leaving Big Daddy holding the still-living – and clearly shocked – head. Big Daddy stomps on the head to put him out of his misery, and then screams. Scorned thief Cholo has a similar response when he spies a Mexican zombie walking in circles with a lawnmower. Cholo shows pity and shoots him, but makes it clear that he doesn’t ever want to be like him.

Then there’s everybody’s favorite horror film social commentary: gender. Asia Argento’s character, Slack, states while in jail that she’d originally trained to be a soldier, but was turned into a prostitute by Kaufman and his boys. Lucky for her, she gets to prove her worth in the field. Unlike those directors who rely heavily on sexist stereotypes in horror, Romero gives his female characters a chance. Although the women were predominantly victims in need of protection in Night and Dawn, we see them rise to positions of prominence in Day and Land of the Dead.

Still, when women are not being sexualized by the fictional higher-ups, they are either being de- or re-feminized by Romero. First, there’s the female weapons expert called Pretty Boy. There’s Motown, the traitor mercenary sent out with the gang to retrieve Dead Reckoning. Or how about this exchange between Slack and Charlie while they’re suiting up for the retrieval mission?

"I can’t believe you guys are turning me into a fucking Boy Scout." – Slack

(Under his breath) "You’re not a boy." – Charlie

In my opinion, the release years for Romero’s Dead series are no coincidence. Need proof? Take a look at this list:

Night of the Living Dead	1968	Nixon, Vietnam, hippies, 50s conformity versus 60s rebellion, racial tension
Dawn of the Dead	1978	Carter, increase in contemporary consumerism
Day of the Dead	1985	Reagan, rampant media images of militarism, rise of the Religious Right and the New Conservative movement
Land of the Dead	2005	George W. Bush, Iraq, rampant censorship and use of media as propaganda

I also think it’s wholly appropriate that this film would be released while in the throes of Bush Version 2.0’s 2nd term. In fact, it’s a point plainly stated; Hopper said in a DVD Special Features interview that he played Kaufman like US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld. Romero himself admitted, only half-jokingly, that this movie was all about the Bush administration.

All in all, George A. Romero’s Land of the Dead is a very good final chapter to brilliant horror series. Why are you still reading this? Rent it. NOW.

more REVIEWS (back)