In the seventh grade, I used my dad’s high-tech VCR to rewind and rewatch, frame by frame, the scene from the original “Dawn of the Dead” where the top of a zombie’s head is cut off by helicopter blades and sent flying frisbee-style.
I’ve seen all the versions and revisions of Romero’s “Night of the Living Dead,” I endured the “remake” of “Day of the Dead,” and my wife and I spent Valentine’s Day 2008 at a press screening of “Diary of the Dead.” I love zombies.
But this whole thing has gotten out of control.
George Romero is awesome–as evidenced by those spectacles. He put zombies on the map with “Night of the Living Dead,” and the word “zombie” isn’t even used in the film.
In the sequel, “Dawn of the Dead,” he jabbed a rotting finger at capitalism: the undead, mindless and hungry to consume, instinctively flock to the mall:
Warning: Graphic Content
I’m willing to read the sprinting-zombies in the 2004 remake as evidence of a culture that wants to eat up all that it can from its malls.
But now, non-zombies are flocking to their malls to eat up the commercialized zombie:
I hope Jane Austen comes back and eats the publisher.
If you have this mug in your cubicle, chances are you’re already some type of zombie.
In practice, this sort of thing didn’t work out so well for Louis Creed.
Don’t worry, kid–if your parents bought you this shirt, your mind is probably well on its way.
Zombie fever isn’t all bad, though. Zombie Walks have been staged as protests and also as fundraisers to help feed the hungry and fund brain tumor research.