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 )

 

Marginalia

Medieval illustrators (not to exclude clerks, scribes and anyone who had access to paper and had to do a lot of writing and got very bored) put a lot of stuff in the marginalia of their works.

For example, embellishing the capital letters: 

 

Often, it was simply to amuse themselves and offer little jokes for the person receiving it.

 

.......... Ruprecht (For Pete's sake, STOP waving that duck around ...)

Pod Talk

 

 

And then this happened with a certain British Unbelievable founding member earlier his week ...

 

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

 

Personal Space

 

You know ... I'm not quite certain what it is about the need for people to violate others' personal space while checking out at the local grocery store. 

My first guess would be their unthinking obliviousness, I suppose. Or the simplest hint of social graces, followed by the probability they don't give a flying flip about anyone but themselves. 

I came into contact with just this sort of person earlier in the week. 

There was someone in front of me checking out and, while they were finishing up, I waited my turn calmly, giving them plenty of room to conduct their transaction without pressing them to move things along. I mean ... that's just basic manners in my book.

Well ... not so with the woman behind me. As I began removing items from my cart and depositing them on the checker's conveyor belt, this lady exaggeratedly reached past me - brushing my arm in the process - in order to snag a divider to separate her groceries from mine. In one hand she precariously balanced a jar of peanut butter and a package of pre-sliced watermelon wedges which I saw when I turned to see who was crowding me. I surmised the two items were much, much too heavy to hold onto and had to be put down immediately before her strength gave out and she collapsed in a heap. (I mean ... what other reason was there for her to unceremoniously reach past me and knock into me with nary a word ... right?)

If this wasn't enough, she remained directly behind me without giving up an inch of real estate so she could obviously keep her items within sight in the event I might abscond with them.

And that was enough for me to react.

I turned around, looked her in the eye and asked "Do you mind stepping back so I don't have to hear you breathing down my neck?" I got a dirty look as a response before she seemingly and reluctantly took a few steps backward. I mentally exhaled at the gall of the woman and said nothing more.

But I did take my ever-loving sweet time checking out, conversing with the checker pleasantly. Producing my wallet slowly and methodically in order to extract my monies. Thanking the checker for her assistance and answering my questions. And, finally, carefully taking the receipt she handed me and performing exacting, perfectly executed folds to it before putting it in my wallet. 

As I departed, I turned to the woman who I could hear huffing at me not-so-silently and offered: "You have a day now, you hear?"

She frowned at me, not knowing whether to respond or not. 

 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP ) 

Banned From Social Media!

 Aaaaaaaahhhh ... the old blog post, where I've ruminated, sarcastigated and blathered about many things under the big yellow sun. And then some.

And what better time than being banned from Facebook to resurrect a posting.

"Waitaminnit ... WHAT? You were BANNED from Facebook?!?"

Yep, sure was. Well ... not exactly banned but I might as well have been. The technical term was I was "restricted" from use; I couldn't post, comment or "like" anything on the site for a 24 hour period, ending around noon today. Here's the official notification received when I tried posting a comment on one of the groups I'm in:

At first, I thought I'd been cut off in that particular group. I shot a note to one of the administrator asking what the deal was and he informed me there was nothing he could determine as a reason for my restriction. That's when I did a little exploring and stumbled on the notification above.

Looking into the situation further, there are a whole slew of hoops you have to jump through to put in a request for appeal. But the kicker is Facebook doesn't tell you what, exactly, the infringing item was that got me sent on a time out. And, thinking about it, that makes sense. If they had to inform every single person they restict of what put them in the situation, that would take up gads of time and effort. I can only surmise Facebook figures if someone gets slapped with a violation the person being slapped should know what they're being disciplined for.

Except ... I don't.

So the next logical step was to retrace my steps ... and I figured my most recent steps were a good place to start.

Early yesterday morning I posted the 20th prompt of my month-long "Inktober" challenge where I draw and post a picture everyday in the month of October along with thousands of like-minded artists. The prompt was "Coral" and I decided to do something outside the obvious sea coral or color coral - I created and submitted an open-shelled scallop with its roe intact:

Now, for those not in the know, scallop roe (or "coral") is the bivalve's reproductive organs, colorful and completely edible. I choose this as part of my drawing. Was the posting of such the cause of my Facebook jail time? I mean ... flaunting female reproductive organs is pretty dicey, not exactly the thing upstanding members of the community do as a general rule. (At least none of the community that I choose to associate myself with, to be clear.)

That's what did it. That's what got me a 24-hour heave-ho. Right?

Well ... maybe not.

Later in the day I posted this picture on my friend Douglas Arthur's wall with the title "Well ... hello, Chewsday!" Maybe that's what did the trick:

I mean ... there's Godzilla, king of the monsters, casually chomping on a couple train passenger cars, most likely picked freely from some train yard and probably containing people inside. Men, women, children, grandparents, etc. By posting such an image, does this mean I advocate the destruction of private property not to mention the wanton and reckless killing of dozens of innocent lives? How callous of me! What an asshole I am! Surely THAT was the reason I was ousted for a day!

Except ... I don't think so. I've seen dozens of similar images posted out there (and not just of Godzilla) performing even more heinous acts. And you don't see THOSE people condemned for such.

And then I thought some more and wondered: What else could have caused me to be labeled such a cad, such a ne'er-do-well?  And the answer that came up as: I haven't the faintest damned clue.

I've been an upstanding member of the Facebook community for 11 years and never once previously have I been restricted from accessing my account and contributing questions and comments to my fellow socialites.

And you know what? Going through the motions to try and determine what led to that condition in the first place simply isn't worth the time and effort.

So I'll just go merrily along my way and do my best to keep my shoes tied and my nose clean.

But I'll make certain to add to my information biography on the site that I was indeed and in fact banned on October 20th / 21st for a 24-hour period.

Because really ... I am an asshole.

The Heat (isn't) On

Honestly: I had nothing whatsoever to do with this.

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

Really ... Aren't They All Songs Of Ill Intent?

My friend Renee - one of the few I have left on Facebook, as many seem to be dropping like flies for one reason or another - noted her frustration with people in general when it comes to Christmas tunes by posting something someone wrote somewhere. (Was that vague enough for you?)

But I'll back up a bit to where it all started, with the holiday classic "Baby, It's Cold Outside." A little history on the tune, originally written in 1944:

"During the 1940s, when Hollywood celebrities attended parties, they were expected to perform. In 1944, Frank Loesser wrote "Baby, It's Cold Outside" for his wife, Lynn Garland, and himself to sing at a housewarming party in New York City at the Navarro Hotel. They sang the song to indicate to guests that it was time to leave.

"Garland wrote that after the first performance, "We become instant parlor room stars. We got invited to all the best parties for years on the basis of 'Baby.' It was our ticket to caviar and truffles. Parties were built around our being the closing act." In 1948, after years of performing the song, Loesser sold it to MGM for the 1949 romantic comedy Neptune's Daughter. Garland was furious, and wrote, "I felt as betrayed as if I'd caught him in bed with another woman."

"In the film, "Baby, It's Cold Outside" was sung by Esther Williams and Ricardo Montalbán, then by Betty Garrett and Red Skelton, who reversed the roles. The song won the Academy Award."

So ... was it a song originally written with ill intentions (read: rape) in mind? No, no it wasn't. Our monkey business society of do-gooders and political correctors has riled the masses into a froth about the songs "true" meaning, throwing its original lyrics (not to mention the societal norms of the time, the 1940s) by the wayside for their own purposes, mainly in order to cry wolf.

Last month, Cleveland, Ohio radio station WDOK announced it pulled "Baby, It's Cold Outside" citing listener concerns over the song's content. On December 4, 2018, the Canadian radio broadcasters Bell Media, CBC Radio, and Rogers Media followed suit. Hey, listener demand can be powerful ... I guess.

And that is the lead in for the post Renee offered below. I don't know who the original author of the following was and it is of no concern. It just so happens I agree with her/him. Because it's all about context and the timing of when the writers wrote the songs.

But those who'd rather whip up inflammatory, alternate meanings, well ... they're going to do what they're going to do.

Welcome to the 2018 holiday season.

Here's what Renee posted ...

"Just a little reminder how ridiculous society has become ...

"Since some radio stations decided to pull 'Baby It’s Cold Outside' from its playlist because someone was offended, shouldn’t these songs be pulled as well????


1. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus: Subjecting minors to softcore porn

2. The Christmas Song: Open fire? Pollution. Folks dressed up like Eskimos? Cultural appropriation

3. Holly Jolly Christmas: Kiss her once for me? Unwanted advances

4. White Christmas? Racist

5. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town: Sees you when you’re sleeping? Knows when you’re awake? Peeping Tom stalker

6. It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Everyone telling you be of good cheer? Forced to hide depression

7. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer: Bullying

8. It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas: Forced gender-specific gifts, dolls for Janice and Jen and boots and pistols (GUNS!) for Barney and Ben

9. Santa Baby: Gold digger, blackmail

10. Frosty The Snowman: Sexist; not a snow woman

11. Do You Hear What I Hear: blatant disregard for the hearing impaired

12. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas: Make the yuletide GAY? Wow, just wow

13. Jingle Bell Rock: Giddy up jingle horse, pick up your feet: animal abuse

14. Mistletoe and Holly: Overeating, folks stealing a kiss or two? How did this song ever see the light of day?

15. Winter Wonderland: Parson Brown demanding they get married … forced partnership.

16. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer: Woman attacked & Grandpa gambling."

Now ... I don't claim to be politically correct by any stretch of the imagination. Matter'n fact I'm certain I've raised eyebrows, caused Facebook desertions and much, much more with some of the things I've said and written.

And that, folks, is why a "delete" button was invented.

Meanwhile, I'm listening to every single one of the tunes above without any compunctions whatsoever.

In fact, while playing them, if I see someone who screws up their face in distaste at my musical proclivities, I'll probably just turn up the volume.

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