It’s
been four months since the passing of legendary American-Canadian horror film
auteur George A. Romero, better known as the man who popularized the zombie
apocalypse subgenre beginning with Night
of the Living Dead in 1968 before arguably delivering his masterpiece with
the 1978 sequel Dawn of the Dead. Between that brief gap separating Night and Dawn, however, the zombie horror maestro tried to distance himself
from the genre in a series of films curated by Arrow Video for the blu-ray
boxed set Between Night at Dawn.
Made
between 1971 and 1973 with two produced by the same company that financed Night of the Living Dead, the first two
films find the director leaning towards documenting 60s counterculture with There’s Always Vanilla and female
empowerment in the form of witchcraft with Season
of the Witch. Having failed to find
an audience with the first two, Romero returned once more to apocalyptic horror
with The Crazies which ultimately proved
to be a reasonably effective dress rehearsal for Dawn.
Varying vastly in quality and narrative hook, Romero himself ultimately disowned There’s Always Vanilla as well as citing Season of the Witch as an unfinished project he had hoped to remake one day, making this new Arrow Video boxed set an uneven package strictly for die hards eager to see the transitional period which built upon Night towards Dawn. As such, it’s an intriguing if not somewhat disappointing package as neither Vanilla nor Witch bear much solidarity along with The Crazies sporting familiar territory better explored in Dawn. Nevertheless, the Movie Sleuth took a good look at these early works in the zombie horror master’s career and here are our thoughts.
There's Always Vanilla (1971)
Cited
as one of the director’s only romantic comedies in his oeuvre and characterized
as among the few pictures written by someone other than Romero (penned by
Rudolph J. Ricci), There’s Always Vanilla
is a rough-around-the-edges 60s flower generation 16mm venture featuring
much of the cast and crew from Night of
the Living Dead without that film’s focus and drive. In other words, There’s Always Vanilla not only meanders and struggles to maintain
the viewer’s attention, Romero himself went on the record to call it his ‘worst
movie’ and added in a video interview included in the boxed set just how little
he cares about it.
Following
the aimless exploits of former U.S. Army soldier Chris Bradley (Raymond Laine,
also appearing in Season of the Witch),
the film jumps about between Laine addressing the camera directly through
recollections in an attempt to add coherence to the proceedings and following
his soon-to-be girlfriend Lynn (Judith Ridley from Night of the Living Dead) fending off a sleazy television
commercial director. If it sounds like
this film went on ahead without giving the audience something to latch onto, it
certainly is. While some fans will get a
kick out of spotting Russell Streiner as a hippie working on a beer commercial,
it’s difficult to invest in what frankly amount to little more than random
scribblings.
Outside of a creepy abortion clinic chase sequence compounded with medical unease, most expecting the Romero who delivered Night will find themselves increasingly bored by this misbegotten effort. Arrow Video have done a fine job cleaning up and giving new life to this forgotten film, but chances are most people who buy this boxed set will only ever watch this once before moving on to the director’s more fully realized efforts. Romero places blame of course on the picture being underbudget and largely unfinished, though I doubt this is one anyone feels the need to remake for modern audiences anytime soon.
Outside of a creepy abortion clinic chase sequence compounded with medical unease, most expecting the Romero who delivered Night will find themselves increasingly bored by this misbegotten effort. Arrow Video have done a fine job cleaning up and giving new life to this forgotten film, but chances are most people who buy this boxed set will only ever watch this once before moving on to the director’s more fully realized efforts. Romero places blame of course on the picture being underbudget and largely unfinished, though I doubt this is one anyone feels the need to remake for modern audiences anytime soon.
Score:
Season of the Witch (1972) *
There’s
a phrase I picked up while watching I Love Lucy a lot as a kid: “Rome
wasn’t built in a day.” The epic response to this colloquialism is one of the
best jokes ever uttered on the show, but that’s neither here nor there. I found
this saying creeping into my subconscious during the many, many times I was
bored to tears by George A. Romero’s 1972 domestic melodrama, Season of the
Witch, originally titled (more fittingly) Hungry Wives. This is a
film from a man who — until very recently — was a living legend, having created
what is arguably the single most beloved and critically praised horror trilogy
of all time.
As
it turns out, it was a long, winding road that led from Night of the Living
Dead to Dawn of the Dead, and I guarantee you someone passed out
behind the wheel along the way. It takes more than license plate bingo and road
head to keep awake during this snoozer. This is a damn shame. Not just because
of what Romero would become known for, but because this film starts out really
strong. It opens with a dream sequence that’s downright Lynchian, with
surrealist editing and cinematography (both of which were provided by Romero,
who also served as writer and director). This introduces us to the troubled
psyche of Joan Mitchell, mundanely portrayed under horrible 70s makeup by Jan
White. The dream shows her following far behind her husband, who either doesn’t
know she is there or flat-out doesn’t care. She gets pelted in the face with
tree branches, falls between dreamscapes resembling places we will see later,
and all as she shouts into silence for her husband to acknowledge her.
This
is an absorbing and thoughtfully crafted sequence that tells us everything we
need to know about Joan, her marriage, and it sets the tone for the rest of the
film. Sadly, after that Season of the Witch rolls downhill like a ball
of dog dooky down a muddy slope, gathering up dirt and sludge until it looks
like a gigantic boulder. It might not all be shit, but it sure looks like it.
The movie has moments that hint at the genius we all know and love, but after
such a resonant preamble, he continues to let us down in scene after scene.
Nothing of any real interest happens ever again. Even developments that could
have been noteworthy — one climactic moment in particular — have their momentum
destroyed by muddled pacing and truly awful dialogue, digested and puked out by
acting that ranges from catatonic to cringe-worthy.
It’s
not hard to see why Romero decided to roll the dice on this film. The story of
a domesticated and discontented housewife who turns to witchcraft in search of
empowerment strums the chords of all the obsessions that would fuel some of his
best work. When you boil down the Dead Trilogy to its core themes, they
are about people who have to figure out life and relationships when the future
they had in mind is dead. Those films would eventually feature strong women in
central performances, making sense of their role in the crumbled and chaotic
remnants of a “man’s world”. Joan Mitchell and her cadre of desperate
housewives see their children hitting adulthood as a road that dead ends into
middle age with severe tire damage. But while zombies provide an easy
metaphorical foil for Romero’s social commentary, he seems unable to really
peel back the layers of Joan in any convincing way. Her most revealing moment
involves her literally revealing her body, but if you want psychological depth
with your pointless nudity, you’re better off watching Basic Instinct.
One scene in particular is so poorly written and performed, it marked the
moment when this reviewer officially gave up and cracked open the wine bottle.
In
more capable hands, I could see Season of the Witch being rather
impressively remade. The story is standard, but ripe for psychological
exploration. Jan White lacks the appeal and acting chops to provide an anchor
this kind of material demands. Darren Aronofsky could knock this out of the
park; a young and inexperienced George A. Romero all but drove it into the
dirt. I would feel bad for pointing this out, but Romero himself didn’t like
it, so I guess we’re in good company.
Score:
The Crazies (1973)
After
facing two box office failures with There’s
Always Vanilla and Season of the
Witch, Romero decided to return to apocalyptic horror with his viral
outbreak thriller The Crazies. Echoing the ecological thriller sentiments
of The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue while
functioning as a dress rehearsal for what would eventually become Dawn of the Dead, The Crazies concerns a military bioweapon designed to drive people
mad which is accidentally unleashed upon a small town. Much like the eventual Bong Joon-Ho film The Host, the real terror isn’t so much
the mad virus as it is the ruthless military quarantine response. The army of ordinary citizens transformed into
ruthless killers are only a small part of the problem compared to the brutal
military force who ultimately cause more harm than good.
Unlike
the previous films centered on one character returns to the ensemble cast
format employed on Night of the Living
Dead. Still ostensibly microbudget
in size though sporting a wider scale than anything attempted previously, The Crazies like his Dead pictures offers up a cavalcade of
colorful characters including familiar faces such as Richard Liberty playing
the same manic and crazed role he’d play twelve years later with Logan in Day of the Dead. Also playing a substantially greater role
than his smug television commentator in Dawn
is Richard France as Dr. Watts, the only figure in the crisis who may have
the key for a medical cure.
While
The Crazies tends to suffer from
technical limitations and the same inconclusive notes that closed There’s Always Vanilla and Season of the Witch, this is a
considerably more polished alternate take on Night of the Living Dead. Proof
positive Romero’s strengths lie with depicting survivalist situations rather
than singular character studies, The
Crazies is surprisingly engaging when compared to the first two films in
the set which struggle to give viewers a narrative hook to latch onto. The
Crazies also serves up moments of startling gore that can’t help but
forecast the horrors Romero and effects technician Tom Savini would unleash
just a few years later with Dawn. Of the films in this set, The Crazies is easily the best but it
still pales in comparison to the film it was clearly working towards.
Score:
- Andrew Kotwicki
-* Blake O. Kleiner