We’re Getting Closer to Land of the Dead
In Romero’s third and fourth zombie movies, Day of the Dead and Land of the Dead, there might be a sliver of hope - in a really fucked up way.
I really enjoyed reading
’s thoughts on Day of the Dead. First of all, yes, let’s talk about a 20 year old movie just because. And I’m always down to talk about zombies, and Romero’s in particular. I did say I would write about Daryl Dixon in The Walking Dead, but I got too excited at the idea of talking about my favourite zombie of all time.I am blessed with a terrible memory. I mean: terrible. When I watch a movie or a TV show, I will remember a vibe, a striking image, maybe a musical cue. Plot? I don’t know her. Stories heavy on plot twists or with many characters often bore me to death because my brain is like “oh no, this is math and we don’t do that.” Lord of the Rings is just too many dudes. Same with Game of Thrones - I’ve seen the whole show and the only male characters I could recognize were the Kind Irish Dude With No Beard, and the Redhead Who’s In Love With Brienne. I’m not saying it’s not a good show. I’m just saying that it’s not really my thing and that mostly, I just vibed with Ramin Djawadi’s music.
So the fact that I don’t remember a lot about a movie doesn’t mean much, and my take on what is forgettable or not is necessarily slightly different from Berlatsky’s, although I don’t disagree with him – it’s really more “yes, and,” because I am a dork, and I did do some improv. His perspective surprised me. I love that a movie from 1985 can still be so current - especially when it wasn’t received that well when it came out. That’s the power of Romero’s social critique: sure, the makeup might have aged poorly, yes it’s camp, the symbolism is not incredibly subtle. But a lot of what he had to say still holds up - from Night of the Living Dead (1968) to Land of the Dead (2005).
So, what do I remember from Day of the Dead? A very cool opening scene. I know the protagonist is a white woman, and that there are scientists and soldiers - all or mostly men. I remember none of them. The one character I do remember is Bub. He is a captive zombie, and a scientist is studying him, trying to assess how much human-ness is in him. It has become a classic trope - for instance, in season 3 of The Walking Dead, the Governor (David Morrissey) makes a scientist (Dallas Roberts) study walkers in the hope of triggering memories from their human lives. It’s the zombie equivalent of “I know you’re in there” for the possessed. Grief, refusing to believe that what once was is really gone.
Just like with possession, vampires or werewolves, every zombie mythology is different. In The Walking Dead, nothing remains, the walkers are just mindless, emotionless, well… zombies (at least in everything I’ve seen so far, which is about 9 seasons of the original show, and a few episodes to a few seasons of the spin-offs). In Day of the Dead, Romero offers something different. With Bub, for the first time, we realize that some zombies might have kept reflexes from their human life. Bub is able to hold a gun, and fire it. That’s just muscle memory, though. More interesting: Bub’s reaction to music (pictured here). Is it a memory? An instinctive reaction to noise that an animal would also have? Or is it something more – an emotion, maybe? Although Romero’s outlook on humanity is pretty grim, there is often a lot of tenderness too, and in that moment, we’re allowed to feel some sympathy for what has been, so far, an enemy, a sack of meat in motion – just teeth and danger.
In all of his zombie movies, Romero is always unequivocally on the side of the underdog. In Night of the Living Dead, we want Ben (Duane Jones) to survive. The fact that he doesn’t, and the fact that Ben is a Black man, although not what Romero originally had in mind, is not purely an accident: Duane Jones auditioned and was the best actor so he got the role. Then Duane Jones insisted “the Black community would rather see me dead than saved,” so his character dies. (I highly recommend
’s A Tale of Two (Unlikely) Heroes: NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD and ALIEN). Jones was right, and it is devastating and still resonates fifty-six years later. And Romero listened, because he was a good writer, who obviously cared about people deeply.It’s true that Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead are more memorable. But I am more emotionally attached to Day of the Dead than to Dawn, because of Bub. Who do I remember from Dawn of the Dead? No one. It’s a group. There’s a helicopter. A journalist? I think it’s a white woman who escapes? Pretty sure she’s the protagonist but I could be wrong. See, that’s what I meant by: shit memory (I re-watched the whole trilogy in 2020, during lockdown). Upside: I will be genuinely surprised many times when I re-watch movies, and it’s also always interesting to me to see what or, in this instance, who I remember. I remember Ben from the first one. In Dawn of the Dead, no one really comes to mind. And from the third movie, I remember only Bub. And although he’s not the protagonist, he is crucial for the possibilities he represents. For the first time, a zombie is one of the underdogs. We might not want him to “win,” because he is extremely dangerous, but he is like an extremely dangerous toddler.
There is something endearing about his reaction to music, to discovering a book, holding a razor or a telephone receiver to his ear. Even the nickname, “Bub,” is cute and non threatening. For the first time, a zombie is seen as an individual. In the scene where the scientists and the soldiers discover the work Dr Logan (Richard Liberty) has been doing on him, Bub doesn’t try to bite anyone, even though he is in a room with five people. He tries to connect. He is only dangerous because he was a man, a man trained to shoot guns. The two soldiers do not recognize Bub as one of their own, though, even though his salute reveals he is ex-military. There is something so cruel about the soldier laughing at Bub’s seemingly earnest gesture. Bub has just enough conscience to not be an ordinary zombie, and maybe also to want to belong, or at the very least, to behave like he does belong to a group he used to be a part of. But he is too different now, he cannot be a soldier anymore. Bub is a distinct individual, without a community. (Of course, a monstrous character that lives outside strict binaries and doesn’t belong anywhere would break my heart.) At the end of Day of the Dead, he leaves the military facility. Where can he go?
Twenty years after the Dead trilogy, Romero’s Land of the Dead provides some sort of answer, albeit not literal. Big Daddy is Bub’s descendent, the natural evolution. I don’t know if that time casting a Black man (Ewan Clarke) in the role was intentional or just happened, but of course the result on the screen carries a lot of meaning. Land of the Dead means so much to me that I have a hard time parsing through my emotions when I think about it (my love story with zombies will probably be its own post one day). Plot means very little to me – and probably to Romero? – so of course it’s all about the characters, and I love Big Daddy. I am rooting for him more than for any of the humans in the movie.
Romero’s post-apocalyptic America is pretty terrible: people have been coexisting with zombies for decades, and a new society has emerged, with a philosophy of “learning to live with the virus” - sorry, the zombies. This is not the trilogy centered on time anymore – no one even thinks to flee or eliminate the threat of zombies. As the title indicates, if you can’t outrun them, it’s really about finding a place for humans to live, about carving space. Most people live in terrible conditions, in an urban encampment. A small elite has all the power and lives in a luxury high-rise. The commentary about class is clear: dire conditions profits to a few, to the most ruthless.
Riley (Simon Baker), is our hero, a typical handsome guy who works for the rich antagonist, the man at the top, Kaufman (Denis Hopper). He wants out after that one last mission, but his moral compass means he gets into trouble, of course, otherwise there would be no movie. Bleh, these two white guys are necessary to the story, but they are not that interesting, although Hopper is an excellent bad guy, of course. John Leguizamo as Cholo DeMora, who lives - and dies - in the moral grey area, is much more exciting. He is ambitious. He has bought into the (American) dream that working hard and taking risks for the rich can buy him a spot amongst them. But he is poor, he is crass, he is Latino, so of course Kaufman only ever saw him as the help. There is no upwards mobility, and Cholo realizes that way too late. He can never go back to his own and struggle alongside them. He has betrayed his class and the price for that is to join the zombies. And, goddamnit, if it’s the only way he can get his revenge, that’s what he’ll do!
And what a group he joins, what a leader it has. Big Daddy is a true leader. He is smart – for a dead guy. At the very beginning, he seems to just be repeating automatic gestures from his before life, like Bub with the razor, like the musicians who play the tambourine. But underestimating him will be the humans’ downfall. Big Daddy marks a new step in the zombies’ evolution. He is observant, and draws conclusions from what he sees. When he realizes humans use fireworks to distract zombies and shoot them, he tries to warn the others. He feels empathy, or at least a mix of sadness and rage at the sight of his dead-dead friends that is his version of grief. He also uses tools – not just ones he knew when he was alive: he learns. Not only does he learn, he also teaches his fellow zombies!
He empowers them by giving them tools, but he also leads them on the ground, like a general on the battlefield: in an extremely cool sequence (ah, I’m getting excited) he is the first to jump in the dark waters of a river, and when the others follow him, the enclave the humans thought was protecting them from the zombies becomes an inescapable trap.
I had some sympathy for Bub, but I love Big Daddy. I don’t just want him to avoid harm, I want him to win. I want him to fuck shit up. And frankly, if it had meant the pretty bland lead had to die for that? That would have been okay. I’m not very worried for Riley. I’m glad he escapes unharmed, but if I had to choose between him and Big Daddy, I’m with the zombies. And that’s Romero’s choice.
At the end of Land of the Dead, Riley and Big Daddy exchange a look and there is a tacit agreement that as long as they keep their distance, they can peacefully coexist because the true enemy is someone else: the rich and powerful, who will destroy everything with no regards for life, not even that of their own kind, as long as it means they can cling to their privilege and comfort. Almost four decades after Ben gets killed by police at the end of Night of the Living Dead, it takes having become a hybrid creature for a Black man to survive. Whether it’s becoming a zombie, or having to learn to use a gun, Big Daddy was changed by his environment, and even though he has to fight and destroy, he also finds ways to create: community, almost-allies. Hope.
We have no reason to believe Bub was marginalized in any way when he was alive – he was a white soldier, the blunt instrument of power. But also, just a cog in a machine that only serves him as long as he doesn’t question his orders and doesn’t stand out.
A lot of us are Bubs and Cholos – still some degree of comfort in the end of a world. But in the apocalypse it’s not comfort you can count on. It’s so precarious that sooner or later we usually have to make a choice: do we cling to that tiny bit of comfort? What else are we not getting because we can’t let go of what we know? Who do our choices impact? What other ways of surviving are possible? Could we maybe even live? In the end, when Bub doesn’t belong anymore, he uses what he knows from his time in the military and brings the facility down. He might not really be an underdog, nor a leader, but he can do something. We often feel powerless as individuals, but we aren’t. I can’t help but think of Aaron Bushnell’s act of self immolation – he knew how impactful it would be, especially from his own specific position, wearing his uniform. Of course, not all of us can or should go so big. A series of small choices can be equally impactful – especially because we are not alone.
There might have been other Bubs we don’t know about. Eventually, there’s a Big Daddy. Then, a second-in-command, and more importantly, a community that takes charge of its destiny, rather than letting itself be led by the worst people. Personally, I think I’m ready for it.
My landlord isn’t.
In his conclusion, Noah Berlatsky equates the hordes of zombies to the MAGA crowd and suggests that maybe Day of Dead is less memorable because its horror is one we are surrounded by, one we have become so accustomed to we don’t see it anymore. I won’t comment on American politics (I’m not American and as a Canadian I will just say: same shit, we’re just a bit more coy about it). He writes “zombies can turn us into them because we’re already them, or worse.” Yes, and Romero also suggests that it is something we can maybe come back from. Bub and Big Daddy show us we don’t have to remain mindless monsters.
Chef kiss for the chef’s special! Eat the rich!!!