Land of the Dead, if I may strip the title moniker from its owner and creator George A. Romero, is nothing groundbreaking or even particularly intriguing, at least not in the way his original 1968 Night of the Living Dead or its sensational sequel Dawn of the Dead was. Yet it does have something, if not quite cogent, that resonates on screen in a very cinematic manner. For having almost no non-zombie movies under his belt, Romero is still able to infuse the genre with life.
The movie begins in a garden and ends in a city. In the garden, zombies seemingly have reverted to a state of memory, “living” out their undead lives in a meta-parody of human life. There is a cheerleader, still in dress uniform and carrying pom-poms; a garage mechanic hears the ding of a gas line and attempts to dispense gasoline to a car that isn’t there; a musician attempts to play the tuba. What remains of these empty souls but memories of their past life and the primal will to continue?
We are then introduced to Riley (Simon Baker), a leader in the human resistance and an innovator in the war against a world overrun by the undead. He lives on the outskirts of Fiddler’s Green, a city barricaded by water and a fence constructed by the eminent Kaufman (Dennis Hopper), a cruel businessman turned overlord who lives in a multimillion dollar suite and sends orders down to mercenaries such as Cholo (John Leguizamo). Cholo wants to live inside Fiddler’s Green, but Kaufman has a strict waiting list and an unwritten policy regarding riff-raff.
Meanwhile, it is Riley’s last day in the service of the Resistance. He plans to head north, to Canada, where the chances of running into anyone living or dead is remote. But there are complications, and he finds himself doing one last job. With him is his loyal companion Charlie (Robert Joy), a deadly marksman with a terrible burn mark on his face, and Slack (Asia Argento, daughter of the Italian horror master Dario Argento). Together they witness the awakening of the zombies and the ensuing destruction.
The premise is a little far fetched, and generally out of sync with accepted zombie lore, which indicates that the undead are, quite simply, unable to think, and possess only the most primal instincts. Romero infuses his zombies with tacit understanding, building first from memory and then becoming more creative as they encounter tools and weapons along the way.
Clearly though, Romero is once again interested in the social commentary the zombie movie affords him. He’s got a bone to pick with class warfare, which he sees as real and present here in America. Not only does he indict a rich versus poor dichotomy, but also mocks materialism and jingoistic symbolism in service to an empty calling. One telling scene in the beginning shows the zombies mesmerized by fireworks–”sky flowers” as they’re called by the Resistance–allowing the living to plunder zombie territory for goods like food and water without fear of zombie attack. By the end, the zombies no longer succumb to the allure of the nationalistic lights in the sky–an interesting, if somewhat unsubtle allusion to the emptiness of modern patriotic fervor.
Then again, one could read all sorts of meanings into what is still, essentially and basically, a movie about the undead and human survivors. Not pithy by any stretch. Still, the story is solid, and Romero’s got the visual style down, with moody and atmospheric hues painting each frame, and a dismal palette of gore that shows how far makeup effects have come since 1968. Romero still is the undisputed father of American zombie horror and his efforts here, whilst no real stretch, still reveal his creative power.
Fringe Rating: out of 5