Where The Undead Genre Really Started: George Romero's Night Of The Living Dead

 

In more ways than you can imagine, George Romero's Night Of The Living Dead continues to be shocking, more than 53 years after its initial 1968 release.
 

And no, it wasn't the first appearance of the living dead. That privilege goes to the 1932 release of White Zombie starring none other than Bela Lugosi. But the zombie genre, in and of itself, really came into its own with Night Of The Living Dead.

But before we get things rolling, two things need to be stated from the get-go.

First, a warning: If you’ve never seen NotLD (and, if you haven’t, you’re either terrified of it and don’t want to watch it alone or you’ve been living under a rock all your life) let it be said that no good comes from this film. No good whatsoever.

The other thing: BIG FAT SPOILER ALERT! If indeed you have not seen the film and don’t want your experience ruined, read no further than the exclamation point at the end of this sentence!

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Hokay, then … here’s the spoiler: EVERYBODY DIES ... !!! 

Yep, you read right … every one of the main cast in the film dies a pretty gruesome death.

Following is the actual death count (undead ghouls not included):

 

• Death #1: Barbra’s brother Johnny (Russel Streiner) is killed by the first ghoul encountered in the film, a mysterious, gaunt and frightening stranger meandering about the cemetery they visit. Johnny struggles with the man who eventually tosses him to the ground, causing him to slam his head on a tombstone.
• Deaths #2 & 3: Tom (Keith Wayne) and Judy (Judith Ridley) are killed in an explosion when Tom attempts to get a flame-engulfed truck away from a gas pump.
• Death #4: Barbra (Judith O’Dea) is swarmed and pulled from the house she and the others are sheltered in by an attack of undead ghouls ironically led by her dead, reanimated brother Johnny.
• Death #5: Karen, Harry and Helen’s daughter who was bitten earlier in the film by the undead we learn, ends up becoming one of the reanimated dead.
• Death #6: While Harry (Karl Hardman) is shot by Ben during a struggle well into the film, it’s actually Harry’s daughter, Karen (Kyra Schon), who finishes him off once and for all. Shortly thereafter, Harry’s wife Helen (Marilyn Eastman) finds reanimated Karen munching away at her husband when she retreats to the basement in the midst of an undead siege.
• Death #7: Helen gets a trowel buried in her torso by Karen for interrupting her late daddy snack.
  
• Death #8, The Final Death: In the waning moments of the film, lone survivor Ben (Duane Jones) hears noises coming from above his basement sanctuary. As he ventures upstairs to see if it is the living or the dead, he is killed by a shot to the head, mistakenly believed to be one of the many reanimated ghouls.

Man… what a way to go. Chased, terrorized and eventually done in by resuscitated corpses who either indirectly cause your demise or take care of you face to face.

 

This particularly gruesome piece of celluloid was my introduction to Zombiedom. It’s a film standard and has, over the years, become a classic. I honestly cannot think of a better film to have started off my love affair with the genre. NotLD, to me, is my A Christmas Carol as December 25th approaches. It’s lighting sparklers during the 4th of July, ringing in the New Year with champagne. It’s The Ten Commandments around Easter and it’s attending the Dodgers’ Opening Day.

In other words: It’s tradition.

It never gets old. (Yes… I used “never.”) It still brings gasps and frights. You cannot help but get caught up in the stock musical tracks which accent the panic and dread being played out on the screen. You can feel the fire flare in the face of Ben as the truck Tom drives away from the gas pump explodes with he and Judy inside. You can feel your revulsion as you watch that one particular ghoul snatch an insect off a tree, put it to its lips and crunch into it. You spew loathing at Harry and all his faux-bravado time and again when he blusters. The urgency Ben emotes as he boards up the house in an effort to ward off the undead from outside? You can actually feel it unfolding.

If you’ve never seen George Romero’s masterpiece, you haven’t experienced the kind of fear a good black and white can inject into you. I guarantee you’ll be as overwhelmed as Barbra as she witnesses the undead horde led by her brother Johnny. You’ll be transfixed at the news reports which continually crop up throughout the film, detailing the horrors taking place in nearby towns and counties. You’ll even marvel at Sheriff McClelland uttering “Yeah, they’re dead … they’re all messed up.” (One of my favorite lines from the movie.)

 

This film is all that and a bag of your chips, let me tell you. (And, just in case you need proof, elements of NotLD were used as the basis for AMC’s popular The Walking Dead. So there.)

Look: Do yourself a favor. View this piece of genre history once again for the thirtieth time … or for the very first. It’s available in its entirety on YouTube for Pete’s sake, so you don’t even have to venture out and rent it. After all, free of charge is good. And free of charge from the comfort of your very own computer screen or television set … all the better.

The only thing I ask in return is that you enjoy it … and don’t forget the popcorn.

 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

 

Time

Indeed, the Halloween season is over.

Especially when you begin to droop, when the mold begins to appear, when your color fades and when you start to leak.

So long, Friend. You were good while you lasted.

Better days ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Good Use Of A Bad Color

I don't know ...

I don't know if this is coincidence, great planning or happenstance.

At any rate, it's a good use of those deplorable-looking orange vehicles so prominent in my neck of the woods ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Nine Inch Nails Revisits John Carpenter's Halloween Theme

Admittedly, a lot of cool films came out in the 1970s. And especially when I was in high school: Star Wars, Jaws, Alien, Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, Logan's Run, Animal House, Apocalypse Now, Superman, Rocky and, of course, John Carpenter's Halloween.

As teens, we did a lot of movie watching, a majority of it at the Puente Hills Mall in Rowland Heights, California, east of downtown Los Angeles. (It was this same mall where Back To The Future would later be filmed in the mid-1980s.) And, while I'm not completely certain, it was probably at this mall I caught Halloween when it debuted in late October of 1978.

The film (which would eventually establish itself as one of the true horror classics, one which still stands up today) was on the top of our list to see that Halloween season. It was terrifically creepy, it was responsible for initiating my love affair with Jamie Lee Curtis (her first starring role as a matter of fact) and would cement its theme in my head for years to come.

Today, Friday the 13th, Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross of the band Nine Inch Nails have re-imagined the film's main theme. How convenient and how appropriate. I've been a NIN fan from the very start when they released their debut album Pretty Hate Machine back in 1989. Since that time, Reznor (the only constant mainstay of the group in all their incarnations) has released a bevy of NIN records and EPs, won a couple Grammy Awards for his efforts and even managed (along with Ross) to garner an Oscar for Best Original Score for 2010's The Social Network.

So how does NIN's version of the Halloween theme stack up to the original? Pretty well truth be told. It's understandably polished from the 1979 original but with clear reverence to Carpenter's composition without too many added extras. My biggest critique? It's overly long. Clocking in at the better part of eight minutes, it becomes rather tedious around the five minute mark. That's not to say there aren't some nice flourishes, eerie backgrounds and swells that add to the ambiance of the track. But it's a bit of an effort to sit through in its entirety. 

Both Carpenter's original along with NIN's update are provided here for your dining and dancing pleasure. Please enjoy as All Hallow's Eve rapidly approaches.

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Numbskull

This isn't Bill. This isn't Bob.

It's Steve ...

You remember Steve, don't you?

Well sir, Steve's been through the ringer. He's seen better days.

He's weathered physical abuse (note the lack of the top of his head, various scuffs and abrasions, a reattached jaw that split in two right down the middle), quite a few relocations over the many, many years, unfortunate name changes (more on those in a bit) and other ailments.

But he's still here. Still ready, willing and able to make his annual Halloween appearance. And who can blame him? That's his thing.

I pulled Steve out of his packaging a year or so ago and he was in pieces ... literally. His skull was irreparable. There were so many skull fragments fixing him was out of the question. Recently, his right eye orbit gave way. He's forever had a couple missing front teeth so that's never been a problem. (He doesn't exactly eat, you know.) But the dude just keeps on keepin' on. Kudos for his persistence.

And that name thing? My fault.

You see, I've forgotten his name on a few occasions and mistakenly called him by others. Beside Steve, he's erroneously been called both "Bill" and "Bob," neither name having that "joie de vivre" which typifies his personality. Additionally, they don't roll off the tongue quite the way "Steve" does.
  

Really. Truly. Try it out. Say "Bill" out loud, wait a moment, then call out "Bob." See? Just don't sound right, do they?

Now ... say "Steve" then you tell me which name sounds better spoken aloud. I mean, all three names are monosyllabic but you're able to add that extra emphasis with "Steve" you just can't with the other two.
 
"Steeeeeeeeeve." "Steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeve." See what I mean?

I blame myself completely and totally for the flub, of course. And I'll chalk it up to nothing more a brain malfunction, some synapses or three not firing on all thrusters.

Something I should have done long, long ago was make certain I remembered by writing his name down. It doesn't get any simpler than that. But that's akin to the need to write down the names of your children. Or your dog. You know what your children's names are! You damned well know what your dog's name is! You don't need reminders for those things! But ... for a charismatic, suave man-about-town like Steve who only makes an appearance once a year, I'm sad to say things can get forgotten. Like, you know ... names.

So I've rectified that little worry as you can see. And unless the back of his face falls off, I won't forget his name again.


Happy Halloween, Steve. Do your thing.

 .......... Ruprecht ( has rectified a way to STOP forgetting Steve's name is Steve )

 

Still Celebrating ...

I asked myself today: "When does it become inappropriate to wish someone a Happy New Year?"

And by inappropriate I don't mean "inappropriate." I mean inappropriate along the lines of "ill-suited." More so I wondered about it in a general sense of the correctness of acknowledgment.

Currently? It's still all right to "Happy New Year" whoever you choose. I mean ... we're a mere two weeks into 2015 for Pete's sake. And when you haven't yet seen someone and stumble upon him or her in February and such a hail greeting strikes you? I don't see a problem with that. Do you?

But ... get past February and it can get a little weird.

You wouldn't say it in April, definitely not on Flag Day ... and you wouldn't even think of mumbling it at the mid-year mark ... right? And it doesn't even occur as a weird mind quirk come autumn, even at the most awkward of meetings, does it?

If you think about it, most months of the year (the latter 10, let's say) get the metaphorical cold shoulder when it comes to offering such a salute. If you're one of these months you drew the short stick.

But ... I don't know if this necessarily needs to be the case.

Of course, you wouldn't greet someone you see every day with "Happy New Year." That's just dumb. You wouldn't say it to your fellow office worker down the hall every time you bump into him. You wouldn't offer it to your barber each month you get a hair cut. Nor would you give it any thought when you say hello to the cashier at the grocery store every other week. Or at your favorite fast food joint. Or when you jauntily step yourself into the bank and belly up to a helpful attendant. 

But you would do so to those individuals you haven't yet seen in the new year. That makes complete sense, doesn't it?

So why don't you do it? "Why don't I do it?" I asked myself.

Well, I'm not asking any longer. I'm forging ahead and committing to it each time the chance arises.

I'm certain, no matter the month, an enthusiastic "Happy New Year" will beat "How's it goin'?" or "What's up?" or "Fancy meeting you here!" or a goofy "I wondered if I'd bump into you" each and every time.

And that goes double with strangers, too. (Yes ... I'm known to talk to complete strangers often, out of the blue and in the most interesting places.)

And if it raises an eyebrow or two? Nothing wrong with that ...

.......... Ruprecht ( still won't STOP )

Dead, More Dead, Deader Still

As a selfless service (and as Halloween approaches), it falls on me to put a little informational PSA out there on the airwaves for your consumption.

Three classics of the horror make up cornerstones of the genre:

Night Of The Living Dead - the George Romero classic that began it all ...

Dawn Of The Dead - the long-awaited sequel to NotLD and a classic in its own right, and ...

Day Of The Dead - the twisted, interesting end piece to Romero’s "Dead" trilogy.

Peruse the reviews by accessing the handy, dandy links and please enjoy. Then? Go watch the films. You owe it to yourself.

Happy Halloween ...

.......... Ruprecht ( What's STOPping you from seeing these classics this Halloween? )

Meanwhile, Over At The Unbelievables' Site ...

Clark, Jeff and Michael

(not necessarily in that order)

 
As we do every year Clark, Jeff and myself are celebrating our Halloween extravaganza over at The Unbelievables. 

Take a peek and submit an entry if you like.

You could be a winner ... !!!

.......... Ruprecht ( will continue to celebrate Halloween, won't ever STOP )

Only 50%

  
"I feel I'm only half the monster that I once was ..."

"... now ... I'm just somebody that I used to know ..." 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Thank you, Yvette Thomas

 

The Gonk

Complete ... with bad quality and extra cheese .....

..................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Halloween, 1973

It wasn’t that long ago, really.

Halloween was a much anticipated free-for-all when I was a kid.

There were pillowcases that needed filling with candy and treats in the course of several trips in and out of the surrounding neighborhoods.

There was the goopy make-up that got in your eyes and stuck there throughout the next day when you went to school, no matter how hard you tried to scrub it off.

There was the toilet paper.

There were the pumpkin guts tossed in the middle of the street we slipped on when we crossed from house to house.

There were the dark, foreboding pathways leading up to houses, lit by little more than a single, ominous red or blue light bulb.

The dogs scaring the bejeebers out of us when we approached a house.

Thoroughly creepy music emanating from the background somewhere.

Dank, moldy figures sitting on porches, waiting to make us leap screaming as they suddenly “came alive” and lurched menacingly at us.

Those were the days.

The picture above is of (left to right) Doug Anderson (hobo), myself (hunchback ..... and yeah ... hunchbacks wore jeans; what's it to ya!?) and Doug Schlaufman (weird old lady), complete with my father’s hideously bright orange ‘68 VW in the background. It was 1973 and I was twelve years old. What a motley looking crew we were.

I remember that particular night vividly. We ran wild in the streets for hours, collecting as much as we could. I recall we came back with pillowcases full of stuff (no kidding!), our loot practically giving beneath its weight. We’d dump it all on the kitchen table for Mom to go thorough, snag a piece or two for the road and then we were out the door for more.

We were unstoppable.

There was a house about a block away. It was transformed into a Halloween haunt during the season. We never had the guts to go into it before, but this was the year. I remember we saved that place for last. We wanted to go in, but we didn’t want to go in, if you know what I mean.

Toward the end of the night -- feet tired, arms weary from lugging pounds and pounds of tooth-decaying treats -- we ventured to the haunted house of doom.

We were greeted by an ominous voice inviting us to enter at our own risk. We were genuinely frightened out of our wits, but none of us backed down. We were going to go through with it. Mom knew where we were, even if she didn’t know who these people were. It was all good.

We carefully tip-toed inside. Just past the front door, ripped shreds of material hung. We had to make our way through them. Some were sticky. With what we hadn’t a clue.

A left turn took us into our first room of terror. We stopped dead in our tracks: a surgeon came into sight just around a wall. He had a mask on his face, scalpel in hand. We couldn’t see who he was “working” on but he beckoned us toward him. We tentatively took steps forward and, as we did, an operating table came into view. A balding man was atop it, mouth in a grimace, reaching out toward us and moaning. We could see his naked belly, a belly spilling out spaghetti entrails and red ooze.

Our hair was standing on end. The patient moaned louder and reached for us, but we backed away, right into a couple of hideous ghouls who had snuck up from behind us. We started and yelped and saw yet another figure closing the door we'd come through. This one had a scythe in one hand and what looked like intestines in the other. I felt a hand on my shoulder and screamed.

One of us bolted for the door, grabbed and opened it. The gruesome troop came at us and we dashed out of the room, back down the hall, through the front door and out into the street at a pace I would never again run.

We ran all the way back to my house, terrified half the way there, laughing at our scared selves the remainder of the way. One of my friends suggested we return and go through the rest of the place; the other blurted “No way!”

We made it back to my house with nary a scratch. Halloween, again, was the blast we’d remembered it to be.

Inside the kitchen, my mother asked how the haunted house was. We all agreed it was thoroughly creepy, but fun. Something caught her eye as she looked at me ..... and a look of utter disgust came across her face.

“What in the world is on your shoulder?!?” she half yelled. She grabbed a dish towel from the kitchen and came at me. I stood frozen still. My friends were looking at me wide-eyed, no laughter left on their faces.

My mother reached over and took whatever it was from my left should. She showed it to me.

It was a huge piece of raw calf’s liver, a real one, obviously used as one of the props in the haunted house. That hand on my shoulder had left it there for me as “a parting gift.” It left a livery, wet stain.

That’s the kind of Halloween I remember as a kid.

Good times. Good times, indeed .....

...................................... Ruprecht ( STOP )