DAWN OF THE DEAD (2004) A film review by David N. Butterworth Copyright 2004 David N. Butterworth
** (out of ****)
"When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth."
Thus preached the tagline for "Dawn of the Dead," George A. Romero's apocalyptic masterpiece from 1978 and it's the catchphrase that likewise adorns the poster art for the 2004 remake starring Sarah Polley ("My Life Without Me") and Ving Rhames (the "Mission: Impossible" series). Suffering through this loud, visceral, and mostly idiotic redo, however, you get the easy feeling that a more truthful sell might have been "when there're no more original ideas in Hollywood, the studios will opt to remake."
As bloody as it is redundant, first-time director Zack Snyder's film is the latest in a growing trend of unnecessary remakes of influential horror movies. "Dawn of the Dead: The Reattempt" strips the original of everything that made that film a classic--overall intelligence, skillful and poetic storytelling, kinetic editing, and an impassioned score by the Italian rock quartet Goblin--and presents it neither as a modern day retelling, revisionist retread, nor retrospective homage. Instead it sideswipes the initial film's underlying humanity, cranks up the gore quotient (not that Romero's film was easy on the stomach by any means), peppers it with largely telegraphed shock tactics, liberally applies broad and supposedly "hip" brushstrokes, and orchestrates it all to a schizophrenic soundtrack that makes you think you've stumbled into "Another 28 Days Later..."
Come to think of it Snyder's film actually refutes the fact that Danny Boyle holds a monopoly on producing murky, ill-conceived zombie pictures.
In "Dawn of the Dead" (2004) Polley stars as an Everett, WI nurse who graphically witnesses her husband and daughter succumb to an epidemic that's sweeping the Milwaukee suburbs. One bite from an Infected and the hapless victim is instantly turned into the blood-dribbling, eye bulging undead! Polley's Ana, clearly modeled on "Kill Bill"'s Uma Thurman, acts stupidly within the film's first few minutes thereby abandoning all credibility thereafter. After crashing her getaway car under the opening credits she hooks up with an uninfected cop (Rhames) and a trio of gung-ho survivors, one black, one pregnant, and one ("Wendigo"'s Jake Weber) who quickly suggests they head for the mall!
Said mall, as it was in Romero's infinitely superior version, becomes the microcosmic epicenter of this go-round's misshapen and mishandled survivalist tale. "Why do they come here?" puzzles a Cross Roads Mall security guard caught in the brain spewing--and mind numbing--crossfire. "Memory. Instinct. To kill us, eventually." It's one of the few references to Romero's original screenplay (co-written by horror maven Dario Argento), one that focused as much on the intriguing human struggle as the comical, staggering flesh eaters.
A quarter of a century later James Gunn's script is more interested in style than substance, an unsatisfactory mix of flashy camerawork, laughable decision making, and unsubtle attempts to out-muscle Tom Savini's gross out make-up effects (since the only way to keep a good zombie down is still, apparently, to shoot it in the head).
Last year's surprisingly competent remake of "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" proved that, if you show a modicum of respect for your source material, there's no reason why you can't reintroduce today's audiences to an acknowledged horror landmark. The only thing Zack Snyder's ill-advised debut confirms is that one should leave "'the Dead" the hell alone.
-- David N. Butterworth dnb@dca.net
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