Revenge of the Revenant Review 22: The one where the zombie doesn't do anything

 

 

Title: The Walking Dead

What Year?: 1936

Classification: Prototype

Rating: For Crying Out Loud (1/4)

 

If there’s one thing in the course of this feature that’s taken me by surprise, it’s how recent many of these films have been, with most no earlier than 1980, and a good number from the ‘90s or later. For the present review, I am going in the other direction and looking at a movie much earlier than I have reviewed or considered so far. We’re going back to the 1930s, the decade that defined what people thought of as horror movies all the way up to the time when the “classics” of the zombie genre were being made. It was the days of Dracula, Frankenstein, the Mummy and more, but of course, we won’t be looking at them. Instead, I offer for consideration a movie that was offbeat even for its time, yet by the standards of this feature almost bland on paper. But as we will see, strangeness can be a matter of execution as well as concept, and this one is truly baffling on careful consideration. I present The Walking Dead, black and white edition.

Our story begins with a group of racketeers, so refined and civilized that they literally play pool while they plan their mayhem. The group become upset when a judge sends one of their underlings to prison, so they decide to murder the judge and frame someone else for the deed. Enter John Ellman, an ex-con sentenced by the judge who the plotters recruit for a supposed plan to catch the judge in a moral scandal. Instead, they frame him so clumsily that their goons are seen moving the judge’s body, but the patsy still goes to the electric chair before the witnesses come forward. In the aftermath, the remorseful husband and wife who saw the real killers bring his body to their employer, a scientist who has been working on a machine to reanimate the dead. Of course, the experiment is a success, and John comes back to life. He’s vague about where he’s been, but he has a newfound knowledge of who framed him. He begins to seek out and confront the plotters, who keep ending up dead with little or no effort on his part. Finally, the remaining racketeers set out to redeanimate him, leaving him wounded. Will he find peace in a second death, or remain undead among the living?

The Walking Dead was a production by Warner Bros starring horror legend Boris Karloff and directed by John Curtiz, also known for movies such as The Adventures of Robin Hood.  It has been noted as among the first to portray a slow-moving zombie, as well as for portraying the undead reanimated through technology rather than supernatural means. It is also possibly the first of relatively few films to show a zombie/ undead of undiminished intelligence attempting to resume a normal life (see Life After Beth). The film was moderately profitable, earning $300,000 against a $217,000 budget, but received mixed reviews and fell far short of the commercial success and overall impact of Frankenstein and other Universal “Monsters” films. Karloff’s 1939 film The Man They Could Not Hang, produced by Columbia, featured a similar premise, with the actor in a more openly villainous role. The movie was re-released at least once, and was included in a syndicated TV package in the 1960s. It has been released on VHS and DVD, but may command high prices; the most accessible release is a 2009 DVD combo pack with the films Zombies On Broadway, You’ll Find Out and Frankenstein 1970.

For my personal experiences, this is one that remained under my radar for an unaccountably long time given the talent involved. I first got wind of it from Zombie Movies The Ultimate Guide by Glenn Kay, which gives it favorable mention, and again when re-reading one of the hagiographic Crestwood House Monsters books. I have found these typical of its reputation as an undisputed “classic”, albeit a minor one. At first, I assumed it would remain unattainable at my usual price range, but eventually got it in the combo pack at well under $20, either a little before or after watching The Man They Could Not Hang (frankly better by a wide margin, but not enough to factor in this review). When I gave it a look, it was while some family were visiting, and the foremost reaction both from me and others was that it is simply baffling. Of course, there are plenty of “good” and genuinely entertaining things about it, first and foremost the direction and camerawork of Cortiz and Karloff’s impressively nuanced performance. The “problem” more than 80 years on is that it is almost impossible to discern what they were trying to do. It has elements of horror, science fiction and drama with a gangster-movie element on the side, but the driving vibe is either a very heavy-handed morality play or a comedy too tone-deaf to tell you when you’re supposed to be laughing.

On more careful scrutiny, what’s most telling is that almost all of the obvious flaws in the story lie with the plotters and their exceptionally overcomplicated scheme. On any amount of consideration, there’s simply no reason for them to have involved Ellman at all, while the underlings who do the dirty work come closer to getting caught carrying out the absurd plan to frame him than they would have if they were allowed to deal with the judge and run for it. What becomes increasingly problematic is that the story hinges on them being unable to handle seeing their victim alive again, to the point that most if not all get themselves killed by sheer panic. This is where the movie simply can’t settle on a point to make. If the idea is that they are plagued by remorse, it’s a very arbitrary line in the sand. From what we can know and infer, this bunch has probably already killed more people through indifference and neglect than the shenanigans on screen ever do. If the premise is that they are terrified by the mere presence of the undead, these are still not the types who would go overboard, especially since the experiments that bring him to life seem to be known to the public.

Fortunately, we are on much more solid ground with the revenant, but the movie remains mixed at best. The reanimation itself is short and simple, with none of the overwrought melodrama of Frankenstein; I find it intriguing for comparison with the original story “Reanimator” (see, dear Logos, Bride of Reanimator), published 15 years earlier. When Ellman/ Karloff comes back to life, he seems vaguely confused but generally himself. Physically, he has enough dexterity to play the piano, leading to a superb scene as he does a recital in the presence of several of the plotters, but he walks with a lurching gait that seems to grow worse as the movie goes on. Something that is never quite resolved is his vulnerability to injuries. He certainly takes a lot of damage in the surprisingly graphic finale, which also sees several gangsters possibly (and of course ironically) electrocuted, but he is by all indications still vulnerable to gunfire and other blunt trauma. (It has been said that a bullet to the head kills him, but I simply don’t see it.) What remains most unique is a metaphysical/ religious theme, mainly introduced through the doctor, who regularly presses his subject about the afterlife. This becomes one of the better developed arcs of the movie, in no small part because the movie never gives an unambiguous answer to its questions. In the end, however, what we do get becomes one more variation of the warning not to play in God’s domain.

That still leaves the “one scene”, and I’m going with the first death among the bad guys. The scene starts after the piano recital, as one of the more competent conspirators loads a revolver. When Ellman enters, he looks at him in the mirror without turning. He comments pointedly, “I was thinking of paying you a visit. You saved me the trouble by walking in.” Ellman asks bluntly why he killed the judge, which is enough for him to draw the gun. The revenant puts his hands up, but remains unphased. He says almost in monotone, “You can’t kill me again,” and begins to advance at his unforgettable lurch. It’s enough for the plotter to step back, and trip, and I’m still not satisfied it’s clear what happens next.

In closing, I can’t do better than reflect on the era it represents, as far back from the 1970s-80s pop culture gestalt I grew up in as the movies of that era are now. The question that comes up more and more as time goes by is if there is really any difference between Star Wars and Alien and the Universal Monsters. What I find striking is that the monster movies of the 1930s and ‘40s were part of my experience growing up, but almost always at several degrees removed. I saw them in books, cartoons, comics and toys, but outside of King Kong, I can’t recall seeing them or seeking them out. To me, movies like The Walking Dead go a long way toward answering why. It is well-made by any standard, fascinating in its concepts and its anticipation of later works, and by my own appraisal at least as good as the Universal Monster entries I have personally viewed. Still, it does not have the resonance or relevance that the ‘70s and ‘80s zombie movies do, either for me or for newer generations, nor does it handle its concepts nearly as well. It remains worth watching, at least at a halfway decent price, but a “classic” it is not.