This is what happens when the system breaks down and leaves the worst people in charge.
George Romero’s third Dead film didn’t have the cautionary energy of Dawn, and didn’t just retread its anti-consumerism metaphors. This was something angrier, meaner, claustrophobic – and the Cold War’s shadow hung heavily over every scene. The gore wasn’t red paint over blue skin, nor was it the usual playful Savini grand-guignol – this was visceral, realistic, and ugly. Vietnam combat photographer ugly. The conflict went beyond the usual man vs. monster – it was man vs. man, ego vs. authority and mad scientists vs. military meatheads, all crammed into a cinder block tomb of a base.
This wasn’t supposed to be fun. If you wanted to party, you could go hang out at the Uneeda Medical Supply warehouse with Burt and Ernie. This was detention.
Critically, it got mixed reviews at the time – too bleak, too talky, too cheap. But for horror kids getting their hands on it via unreturned rentals or forbidden viewings, this was dangerous stuff. This was something real. It felt an awful truth adults didn’t want the young to know.
And I really wasn’t supposed to see this when I did.
I was twelve years old and just starting to get into horror – Poltergeist, Gremlins, TV-edited broadcasts of older eco/animal-horror films from the ‘70s like Sssssss or Kingdom of the Spiders. The PG training wheels were still firmly in place.
My friend’s dad had rented it the night before and left it sitting next to the basement TV the morning after – just one in a stack with Weird Science and Back to the Future. We’d flirted with R-rated horror – Friday the 13th Part V, Silver Bullet – the Coreys were definitely the gateway. So we figured we were a couple of movie-loving badasses who could handle anything.
There we were, with no adults in the room and too much curiosity. So, we hit play.
It wasn’t just the levels of ultra-realistic gore – though that was disturbingly new. The shot of the zombie getting off the gurney with guts spilling out stayed with me for years. But what really got me wasn’t the monsters – it was the people. The way they were already defeated when the movie started. There was no one left to save the world and punch baddies into oblivion. No one was even pretending to do anything worthwhile. There was no waiting for this whole thing to blow over… it was just waiting. It was bleak, nihilistic. All the adults were cracking under pressure and going insane.
There was no saving us.
By this point, people were the real monsters – and the actual zombies weren’t going to just eat us. They were being trained to take our place. What the actual fuck. The movie scared me by taking me places I hadn’t dared consider yet.
And then there was Miguel.
I didn’t know why he stuck with me at first. He wasn’t one of the sensible ones, and he certainly wasn’t the lead – not the villain, not the sacrificial noble guy. He was just… wrecked. Angry, cornered, and tired. You could tell he used to be someone better. But now he was the one you had to work around – he was a problem, and a threat. And what scared me wasn’t him – it was wondering if I’d be like that too, if things got bad enough. That movie made it clear that fear didn’t just kill you – sometimes it warped you into something small and petty. You could be the one who made everything worse. And that bit harder than any zombie.
After that, I started chasing it. Not the gore – though I did love me some splatter – but the feeling that good horror, like good sci-fi, had something to say. That it could scare some sense into people.
So after the credits started rolling, we quietly inserted Weird Science into the VCR, and by the time Lisa showed up surrounded by dry ice, my friend’s dad walked in and side-eyed us for choosing the risqué John Hughes film to watch. It’s not like we were actually watching it – we were just staring at the screen, trying to process Day of the Dead.
Okay, I might have had some trouble sleeping for a while too.
Day of the Dead arrived on Home Video this week in 1986, after a July 19th, 1985 theatrical release.
This is what happens when the system breaks down and leaves the worst people in charge.
George Romero’s third Dead film didn’t have the cautionary drive of Dawn of the Dead, and didn’t just retread its consumerism metaphors either. This was angrier and meaner – and the Cold War’s shadow hung heavily over the whole movie. The gore wasn’t red paint over blue skin anymore, nor was it Tom Savini’s usual brand of playful grand-guignol, he went visceral and ugly with this one. Vietnam combat photographer ugly.
This wasn’t supposed to be fun. If you wanted to party, you could go hang out at the Uneeda Medical Supply warehouse with Burt and Ernie.
This was detention.
Critically, it got mixed reviews at the time – it was deemed too bleak, too talky, too cheap. But for horror kids getting their hands on it via unreturned rentals or forbidden viewings, this was dangerous stuff. This was something real. It felt like an awful truth adults didn’t want the young to know.
And I really wasn’t supposed to see this when I did.
I was twelve years old and just starting to get into horror – Poltergeist, Gremlins, TV-edited broadcasts of older eco/animal-horror films from the ‘70s like Sssssss or Kingdom of the Spiders. The PG training wheels were still firmly in place.
My friend’s dad had rented it the night before and left it sitting next to the basement TV the morning after – just one in a stack with Weird Science and Back to the Future. We’d flirted with R-rated horror before with Friday the 13th Part V, Silver Bullet (the Coreys were definitely the gateway), so we figured we were a couple of movie-loving badasses who could handle anything.
So there we were, badasses with no adults in the room and too much curiosity.
So, we hit play.
It wasn’t just the levels of ultra-realistic gore, though that was disturbingly new. The shot of the zombie getting off the gurney with guts spilling out stayed with me for years. No, what really got to me was the people. The way they were already defeated when the movie started. There was no one left to save the world and punch baddies into oblivion. No one was even pretending to do anything worthwhile. There was no waiting for this whole thing to blow over… it was just waiting.
It was bleak, nihilistic. All the adults were cracking under pressure and going insane in this cinder block tomb.
There was no saving us.
By this point, people were the real monsters – and the actual zombies weren’t going to just eat us. They were being groomed to take our place. What the actual fuck.
The movie scared me by taking me places I hadn’t dared consider yet. And then there’s Miguel.
I didn’t know why he disturbed me at first. He wasn’t one of the sensible ones, and he certainly wasn’t the lead. – He wasn’t even the villain or the sacrificial noble guy. He was just… wrecked. Angry, cornered, and tired.
You could tell he used to be someone better. But now he was the one you had to work around, he was a problem, and a threat. And what scared me was wondering if I’d be like that too, if things got bad enough.
That movie made it clear that fear didn’t kill you – it warped you into someone small and petty. You could be the one who made everything worse.
And that bit harder than any zombie.
After that, I started chasing it. Not so much the gore, though I did love me some splatter – but the feeling that good horror, like good sci-fi, had something to say. That it could scare some sense into people.
So after the credits started rolling, we quietly inserted Weird Science into the VCR, and by the time Lisa appeared surrounded by dry ice, my friend’s dad walked in and side-eyed us for choosing the risqué John Hughes film to watch. It’s not like we were actually watching it – we were just staring at the screen, trying to process Day of the Dead.
Okay, I might have had some trouble sleeping for a while too.
I met George Romero about 20 years later at a Fan Expo, and I stammered through this very story as he signed my Dawn poster magazine. He wrote his usual “Stay Scared” line.
I told him I still was. And I thanked him for it. -Pop
Day of the Dead arrived on Home Video this week in 1986, after a July 19th, 1985 theatrical release.