Buck on Film

Buck in the Stacks #2:

Oh! The Horror! George Romero Comes to Town

John Sefel talks with Buck about the Grandfather of Horror

In September, Director George Romero screened 2 films in Concord. Buck was there, and so was new colleague, John Sefel.

Actor Aaron Foss in John Sefel’s stage adaptation of ‘Night of the Living Dead’

As with all art forms, there are certain techniques and skills that carry over, and others that are specific to the medium. For example, an eye for a balanced, interesting, action-oriented scene is needed for both processes (or, for that matter, for photographers, painters, etc.). However, in all other processes, the camera or canvas dictates where our eye tends, and as such "frames" a picture as desired by the director. Lacking such luxuries, the skilled stage director must be adept at creating interesting "blocking" (i.e., the basic stage picture created based on where people are standing/sitting/etc, called mise en scene when used in film), and having a keen sense of body position and language, and what emotional and subconscious messages they send.

Of course, both film and theater are essentially story-telling, and as such many of the same attitudes and talents (and similar, if not exactly the same, skills) are held in common, and many, MANY theater and film artists find themselves with a foot in each camp. Both art forms create not only a tale, but a world … a world in which a director has chosen how the sky looks, how people interact, the pace and mood of the traffic and the insects; to direct in either medium demands an absolute understanding of the world of a story, and the ability to communicate that understanding to an audience.

Romero's work appeals to me because it's both! Much like most - dare I use the word - geniuses of any art, Romero proudly works in the absolutely best and worst of his medium, avoiding safe, neutral cinema like a zombie plague. He presents pure escapist work ("Creepshow," etc.) and revels in the pure, unapologetic escapism; and then writes chapters in his ever growing work of social criticism, lovingly wrapped up in the guise of a zombie film. I've seen quite a few outstanding Romero films, and I've seen a handful that are something less than perfection - but I've never, ever been disappointed or felt cheated. Romero's work appeals to me because it is always quintessentially Romero: honest, cynical, humorous, and usually dripping with blood.

Since the advent of horror cinema (which is redundant for "since the advent of any cinema") horror has evolved through three major styles; for the purposes of this discussion, let's call them "classic," "middle," and "modern." In the classic days, things focused on old gothic stories and superstitions carried over from Europe, as much-celebrated in such films as Nosferatu, the Golem, and - of course - the classic Universal Monsters (Frankenstein, Dracula, Wolfman, etc.). Even in the liberated 20^th century, these films perfectly exploited a sense of social/sexual repression and the fear of violating cultural norms, presenting the fear of a "monster" disrupting our newly metropolitan world.

The "middle period" of American horror came as the atomic age ushered in new fears of a world turned upside down. Crossover sci-fi/horror films starring giant insects and hostile aliens capitalized our newfound fears of mankind's hubris being rewarded with radiation sickness and violent moon men. Suddenly, it wasn't some gothic monster from the past trying to reinstitute itself over western progress - but new monsters, created by our science and new technologies, coming to punish us for our own follies. On the whole, a more sophisticated structure, even if the actual art of quality movie making took a dive during this era.

Finally, the "modern period" of American horror - the beginning of which can be traced to several films, but unquestionably owes a great deal to Romero. Unlike during the '50's and '60's, where man was responsible for killing himself … BUT the blame was limited to the military, scientists, and government - Romero ushered in the "man against self" era of examining in-depth the evil existing within all of us. "Living Dead" (while still using a barely mentioned science/govt. explanation for the event) focuses mainly on the race and class distinctions within the house - exploiting the "zombie vehicle" to create a crucible for the social issues of his day to play out in a living room. In this way, Romero brought horror cinema into a mindset previously dominated by Brecht and Chekhov.

The result? Ever since "Night" we have been facing works that dealt with people hurting themselves and others. Even most modern monster movies (forgive the alliteration) - i.e., Friday the 13^th, Nightmare on Elm St., etc. - involve a back story of man's cruelty to man; and it's worthy of note, most victims in modern horror films are far from innocent themselves! Since Romero, Man vs. Man and Man vs. Self have been the standard for horror cinema, and have effected generations of movie goers.

I was only in my early teens when I first fell in love with Romero's "Dead" films. I couldn't quite put my thoughts into words then, but I realized that - especially with "Dawn of the Dead" and "Day of the Dead" - there was more going on under the surface, and I recognized it as far more than simply some campy zombie flick. As I grew older and began to understand the films at different levels, I was simultaneously studying theater literature and history. Was George Romero the reason I instantly attached myself to Brecht instead of Synge? To "Medea" instead of "the Frogs"? Undoubtedly. And it was while I was knee-deep in the work of Weill and Lawson that I started directing … and I think their influence (and certainly the Russian school) is obvious in my work. Therefore - and it might seem a tad removed, but - I believe that Romero actually affected my complete directing style and attitude in a fairly fundamental way.

Now if I could just figure out how to create a realistic decapitation on stage, then you'd REALLY see his influence …

"Man vs. self" is absolutely the modern school of theater. Stark, in-your-face, bare-stage examinations of tortured souls. Well … ok, modern theater is that and the Blue Man Group … but you get the point.

How can I put my book-worth of an answer succinctly? Let me try this: in 1968, his "Night of the Living Dead" focused on racial, gender, and class tensions in middle America. In 1979, "Dawn of the Dead" saw a group of self-serving hypocrites leave their vital jobs (with news bureaus and the police!) to go hide in a giant mall. The rest of the film plays out as a parallel to the last days of the French Revolution, with the "survivors" partying inside the palatial commercial complex, while the starving, vengeful zombies claw their way inside. In 1985, "Day of the Dead" focused on a world in anarchy, where the military and the scientists (read "Hawks and Doves," "Republicans and Democrats," etc.) continually bicker and get in each other's way in pursuit of a solution. The movie, while perhaps his most flawed, is every bit as politically relevant as "Dr. Strangelove." And most recently, in 2005's "Land of the Dead" - probably his most overt social commentary to date - Western Civilization itself is taken on as we see a luxury tower (coyly named "Fiddler's Green") where people blissfully live out their lives in elegance and splendor, turning a constant blind eye on the land of walking dead that exists on the other side of the river. And in case the metaphor wasn't already strong enough, much of that elegance and splendor comes from sending squads into the ruined suburbs to pillage for old wine and cigars. As always, however, we end the film with the "tired masses" rising up, crossing the river, and … well, let's just call it a "massive re-distribution of wealth."

If Orwell's farm animals can be seriously studied as revolutionary political theory, certainly Romero's zombies deserve a nod.

Zombies have been used by different artists to play up everything from the dangers of drug use to racist/xenophobic portrayals of "savages" to fears of disease to - as in Romero - the underground, underclass of the world, waiting to rise up. Zombies hold a particular hold on our consciousness … they are us, but they are not. They are the worst possible answer to our eternal question of the afterlife. They represent not only a monster, but a fate.

What of love? Is love "camp"? I suppose it depends on whether you read Anna Karenina or the latest Harlequin novelette. What of oil painting? Again … are you gazing a Waterhouse's portrayal of Miranda, or the latest Thomas Kinkade greeting card? Horror is a "pop-art," and as such, by definition a low-art owing as much to entertainment and diversion as to artistry. That said, Horror - just as any art genre - runs the gambit from meaningless popcorn drivel to artistic integrity. Indeed, Romero belongs in a category with Bradbury and Orwell far more than with hockey-masked machete-wielders chopping up co-eds in endless, interchangeable sequels.

In 2005, I presented a "live" version of "Night of the Living Dead" here in New Hampshire. A lot of people showed up expecting, I'm sure, what a lot of people who picked up this article were expecting - gory, halloweenish blabber. Instead, they received my interpretation of Romero's zombies with the post-Hurricane Katrina madness still clearly in mind. I recently had the honor of meeting Mr. Romero who, since then, has recorded a video message for my audiences of himself praising our efforts with his work. I am proud to say he was a friendly, immediately likable, surprisingly tall, brilliant fellow with a warm laugh and a sincere smile. I had harbored respect for this man and his work for twenty-plus years, but had never imagined that, upon meeting him, he would kindly show me equal respect back.

Does George Romero being a "nice guy" have any impact on his films or the viability of serious scholarly study of his work? Probably not … but the fact that he is has turned me from a fan to a disciple. Of course his work has camp. Of course his work has gore. Let's not get carried away … we are talking about zombie films. That said - every genre has its greatest examples … its poster children. George Romero has - and undoubtedly will continue to be - the poster child for generations of socially relevant horror/alternative filmmaking.