Hoop tober No. 5 #1

It can potentially be tricky to sort out your feelings in relation to a disappointing film from a filmmaker you really admire. It's not really that tricky this time. Ignore the fact that this is George A. Romero's last film. It's just bad.

There's no shame in low-budget filmmaking, but it's crucial to put the work in up front and make sure the script is sturdy. You know in advance that you're not going to be able to dazzle the audience with star power or elaborate sets or special FX. You've got to have your characters in place, you've got to know what they want, scene by scene we've got to have a sense of where we're headed. No one was asking for a zombie Western, but okay: get your Western in some kind of order, pepper it with zombies, and see where it goes.

But a Western depends on old-fashioned stuff like good guys, bad guys, characters with inner codes and intentions, conflicts and resolutions. Nothing about this story makes any sense: the feuding Irish clans on an island off the coast of Delaware, the conflict over killing the zombies as opposed to trying to rehabilitate them, the wayward gang of ex-soldiers, the stash of obsolete cash. Not even the most talented cast could build up any kind of narrative stakes under these conditions. When we're introduced to Athena Karkanis's Tomboy, sitting in a jeep and masturbating to kill the time while carrying on a conversation with her amused fellow guardsman, I was delighted; how could any movie with this character in it be dull? But within a few reels she's kidnapped (under senseless circumstances where the filmmakers don't even attempt to justify how someone could sneak up on Tomboy) and thrown over the back of a horse like so much baggage. The movie doesn't know what to do with her except turn her into a hostage, the most jaundiced, lazy storytelling move ever.

Eventually things descend into the obligatory chaos, but in the dumbest and most sluggish way possible, while the characters stand around gaping and seemingly empty of plans or goals. The ensuing gorefest isn't the least bit cathartic or even scary. On the most microscopic level, even if one faceless minion runs somewhere to get away from the zombie horde, there's no feeling onscreen as to why he ran there. You can feel something for a nameless bit player about to get chomped, if a context has been created to make it feel real and elicit that involvement, but even that most rudimentary baseline is missing.

I am pleased with this movie in only one way: as the opener for Hooptober. It's setting the bar very low. The question now is, do I move right on to Hobgoblins, or do I save that for a kind of reverse palate cleanser after some movies I actually enjoy?