Spottieottiedopalicious Reflections On Cinema : George A Romero's Dawn of the Dead

Jonathan Moody

Do you need a lot of what you got to survive?
                                          Modest Mouse, “Teeth Like God’s Shoeshine”
 
In the introduction to his horror comic The Walking Dead Vol. 1: Days Gone By, Robert Kirkman states that, “The worst part of every zombie movie is the end. I always want to know what happens next.  Even when all the characters die at the end…I just want it to keep going.” What happens next, though, would be reduced to nothing more than superfluous detail. A group of zombies stumbling around a grocery-store parking lot, one zombie mistaking a windshield wiper for a carrot. A different group of zombies trudging through the woods and inching its way towards a lake—one zombie steps into the water and drowns, the others follow the first zombie’s lead. Zombie films are already indulgent enough. Adding minutiae to the mix would be overkill. Most zombie flicks start out in medias res—a frustrating structure that brings audiences into the middle of the narrative. The root cause that triggers the initial zombie outbreak is typically mentioned in passing and never seen. The worst part of every zombie film is not the ending but the beginning; however, George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead is one exception.

Although Romero utilizes in medias res and withholds the initial outbreak scene, his voyeuristic camera plays with our expectations and gives great access to a bleak reality.  The opening scene is an extreme close-up on a woman that is both surrounded by a sea of red and locked in a nightmare.  One could easily assume that she is trapped inside an asylum because of the white jacket she’s wearing.  However, when the lens expands, one sees that she, Francine, is stuck inside a newsroom. As soon as Francine wakes up, she discovers a painful truth: that her news station’s broadcasts cannot deliver pertinent information fast enough.  The rescue stations that her boss has advertised as still “operative” have in fact been closed for 12 hours. In defiance, Francine shuts down the broadcasts.  Without realizing he’s interrupting a live interview between a news anchorman and a scientist, the boss inadvertently informs the public of the hidden truth when he clamors at Francine for cancelling the broadcast.  How bizarre would it be for Americans to hear a CBS exec accidentally reveal that the public’s survival would take a backseat to ratings?
   
The opening scene of DOTD is so amazing because it has withstood the test of time.  The chaos that ensues at the news station provides a window into what could’ve taken place behind the scenes of major news networks when the planes knocked down the Twin Towers, when Hurricane Katrina wreaked havoc on New Orleans, or when the swine flu scare first crept onto the scene.
   
In the first five minutes of the film, Romero establishes his essential theme: survival requires detachment from people and possession.  The two characters who escape in the end make a difficult decision.  They ultimately prevent themselves from expressing any sentimentality towards love and money.  Francine and Peter, the black National Guard officer, realize that love is meaningless.  When Francine’s lover and Peter’s friend turn into zombies, Francine and Peter’s loyalty expires quicker than the life-span of a fruit-fly.  Similarly, Peter resists the lure of an item that is as powerful as love: money.  He discovers that the loot he has hoarded from the Monroeville Mall’s bank holds no value—especially when he has hardly anyone to exchange the loot with, especially when there’s no one around to stop him from taking the cash.

A zombie apocalypse fascinates me so much because the disorder not only challenges man-made laws but also uproots the existing moral statutes. In a normal setting, walking into the Monroeville Mall after hours and grazing off Spam and candy would count as two crimes: breaking and entering, and stealing.  In a zombie outbreak, however, the rules are different.  Breaking and entering would be deemed as “seeking refuge” and stealing as “scavenging.” And murdering countless zombies who’re wandering throughout the mall, who’re struggling to gain entrance into the sealed-off department stores? No, people would call it “ending one’s misery.” 
    
Even though the horrific atmosphere of mindless zombies banging their pale hands against a mall entrance door is imagined, it is not entirely severed from realism.  On the day after Thanksgiving, thousands of Americans stand outside in front of Wal-Mart and Target stores.  When the doors open, shoving matches ensue. All this unnecessary hostility for an unnecessary Wii game console or a flat-screen TV.  
    
I have no problem with a zombie flick ending like this: a black male and a white woman refusing to acquiesce to consumerism by using their superego to curb their id’s infantile desire to “rack-up.” I’m more than content if they bounce.  Find the roof-top exit, and climb in a helicopter that’s low on fuel. Roll the credits.  Cue the zombies on a hockey rink skating to the creepy atonal sounds of an obscure band getting busy on the xylophone.    

 
Jonathan Moody lives in Fresno, TX, with his wife. He teaches Development English at a community college in Houston. 

Illustration courtesy Dan Wyke © 2009, 2010