Night of the Living
                                    Dead 
                                    (1968)
                         review by Red Velvet Kitchen

If you ask a horror fan for the beginnings of modern horror, the following
eras will usually be mentioned: Early sixties, late sixties or
mid-seventies. 1960 provided the pivotal Psycho and Peeping Tom, each much
more violent and psychologically compelling than most that had come before.
The early sixties also saw the birth of the gore movement with H.G. Lewis
and his pretty awful (in every sense of the word) Blood Feast. The
mid-seventies saw the emergence of the teen slasher in Black Christmas and
Halloween which pretty much created a repeatable template. We had the flair
for horror of Argento and new watersheds of intensity with Last House on the
Left and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. However, I’m inclined to agree with
anyone who will tell me that modern horror started in Pittsburgh with Night
of the Living Dead (apologies to The Wicker Man, Mario Bava et al).

Unsympathetic characters, no romance or real back story, no justification
for the horrors that surround, an unhappy ending without respite or
resolution and a genuine social context. And blood and gore aplenty. Night
is such a potent film because of it’s feeling of non-stop, blunt, omnipotent
terror, and pivotally, bleakness. This didn’t feel like a quick scream for
an hour and leave excursion. This film stayed with you, and was far from
over during the end credits montage. It ends as suddenly and as brutally as
it begins, and has the one principle virtue of scaring and scarring as
powerfully as possible.

Shot on a low-budget in stark black and white, and featuring a cast of
mostly local talent, Romero’s Night of the Living Dead is almost of more
note because it seemingly arrived from nowhere, without warning or
expectation. At the figurehead was George A. Romero, and what a difference
this makes. The film has a superbly constructed narrative which is more in
line with an old time master, than a first timer. Starting with one zombie
shuffling into frame, the ostensible lead Barbara is isolated in an
unforgiving place after her brother is apparently killed. Soon we are
introduced to a small group who have assembled in an isolated farmhouse,
whom we gradually grow accustomed to. As the group become more desperate,
the film attacks from all angles: The epidemic escalates, a young girl falls
ill, in-fighting occurs, corpses are discovered, shocks and thrills protrude
at exactly the times they should, set-pieces work admirably, the dialogue
crackles. What happens next contains none of the thrills of a kill that
many horror films have produced. This is heavy, provocative, almost
apocalyptic nastiness, and for a good reason.

The cheapness of the film enhances the authenticity, it almost verges on
documentarian at times, adding a real sense of danger to the horror. Apart
from this obvious distraction, the imbalance of Night of the Living Dead in
so much as it’s melding of old horror staples like the dated score and
somewhat cliched dialogue, with a new breath of ideas and a modern
sensibility, create a wickedly black and unusual atmosphere. Much of Night
plays like a bad dream that is increasingly turning into a horrible
nightmare: Even if the horrors aren’t to be believed, there is certainly a
reason and logic for their manifestation. And that thought is often the
most frightening thing about Romero’s creation.

 

HEAD CHEEZE NOTE: This is a general review of NOTLD, not of a specific DVD or VHS Version.