Book Review:

Review of Not of the Living Dead: The Non-Zombie Films of George A. Romero, by Noah Simon Jampol, Cain Miller, Leah Richards, and John R. Ziegler, McFarland, 2023. 268 pp. Paperback (ISBN: 978-1476685687). Ebook (ISBN: 978-1476648354). Kindle (ASIN: B0BY5H5XHY). 

Before reading Not of the Living Dead: The Non-Zombie Films of George A. Romero, I considered myself a George Romero fan. Not only have I seen all his zombie films multiple times, but I have also published articles about zombies that discuss Romero’s 1968 classic film. This collection revealed much of Romero’s oeuvre of which I was unaware. Of course, I was familiar with many of his other horror works, like Martin (1977), Creepshow (1982), and The Dark Half (1993), but this collection covered some works I had not seen or had not associated with Romero. The introduction situates these non-zombie narratives in Romero’s canon. Apparently, I was a “Romero zombie fan” and knew little about his catalog of films. This collection fills a gap in Romero scholarship, focusing chronologically on his non-dead films, many of which have not received sufficient scholarly attention. This organization allows the reader to trace the evolution of his work.

Chapter 1, “Isn’t that Cheating?” by Leah Richards, focuses on the romantic comedy There’s Always Vanilla (1971). Richards's depth and description are first-rate, a necessity given the film’s relative obscurity.  Unfamiliar with this title, I was inspired to view it and concluded that the article surpasses the quality of its subject matter. The film comes across as a derivative counterculture variant of Love Story (1970), the more mainstream romance movie of that era. The article provides a glimpse of Romero’s foray into unfamiliar waters and, since this is the purpose of the collection, serves as an excellent starting point. The second chapter, “You’ve Really Got to Get with It, Mrs. Mitchell” focuses on Jack’s Wife (1972), more familiar to viewers as Season of the Witch (1972). Again, Richards's depth and detail provide enlightening analysis, which reignited interest in the movie. Having previously considered it based solely on the witchcraft elements, looking at it through a different lens, as a second-wave feminist narrative, broadened my perspective and appreciation of the film.

The third and fourth chapters shift to some of Romero’s darker fare, The Crazies (1973) and Martin (1977), and are particularly engaging. Noah Simon Jampol’s “L’Univers Concentrationnaire of The Crazies” addresses Holocaust imagery in the film, incorporating issues such as posthumanism and cognitive dissonance. Connecting fantasy fare to the Holocaust is a strong approach that elevates the film to a more interpretive level. Cain Miller’s examination of Martin, “Draining the Blood of the Patriarch” makes connections not only to Romero’s Dead films but to classic horror movies like Dracula (1931) and Bride of Frankenstein (1935). Martin is, arguably, Romero’s best work outside of his Dead films and one many of Romero’s zombie fans are likely to have seen. For this reason, this chapter will likely serve as an entry point for many of Romero’s followers.

Chapter 5, “The King is Dead; Long Live the King,” analyzes another outlier in Romero’s catalog, Knightriders (1981), which follows a medieval reenactment group. Like Dawn of the Dead (1978), a critique of modern consumerist society, Richards shows how this film uses motorcycles and anachronistic King Arthur tropes to make a similar point. Chapters 6 and 7 address Romero’s Creepshow collaborations with Stephen King. In “Creepshow and Patriarchal Horror(s),” John R. Ziegler expands on patriarchal themes present in the early chapters. His follow-up chapter, “Race and Murder in Creepshow 2,” fills voids regarding Romero’s work and King scholarship. Though it pales compared to its predecessor, Creepshow 2 (1987) is worthy of examination, yet existing scholarship is scarce.

The remaining chapters focus on works that are not quite as central to Romero’s canon but still provide intriguing analysis. Chapter 8, “‘The Monkey Ruled the Man,’” discusses Monkey Shines (1988), a film that failed at the box office yet has attained cult status. Miller lauds the film for its inclusion of problematic themes, including disability, queerness, AIDS, and masculinity. In Chapter 9, “Animating Politics, Reanimating Genres in ‘Cat from Hell’ and “The Facts in the Case of Mr. Valdemar’” Jampol and Ziegler discuss adaptations of King and Poe’s short stories, respectively. This chapter effectively connects King’s story to Poe’s “The Black Cat," while the section on “Mr. Valdemar” analyzes one of Romero’s much lesser-known zombie narratives that appeared in the anthology film Two Evil Eyes (1990). In Chapter 10, “Queer Reproduction and the Family in The Dark Half,” Ziegler tackles yet another Romero-King collaboration. Though the novel has garnered sufficient scholarly attention, due to a lukewarm critical reception, the film has not. The focus here on issues of masculinity serves as an appropriate segue to the final chapter.

Chapter 11, “The New (White) Face of Terror” addresses issues of white privilege, masculinity, and victimization in Bruiser (2000), which is particularly obscure since it was never released in theaters. Miller draws comparisons to more familiar films, such as Fight Club (1999), American Psycho (2000), and Vanilla Sky (2001). Situating Bruiser alongside famous characters like Patrick Bateman is an effective strategy, especially since scholarship on Bruiser is virtually absent. The conclusion discusses Romero’s rejected script that would have adapted the Resident Evil game series to the big screen. This conclusion will undoubtedly resonate with gamers and leave readers to ponder an intriguing question:  What if the top zombie director had been involved with the biggest zombie gaming franchise?

Romero’s zombie films have been extensively covered in secondary literature, but many of the works covered here have not. Not of the Living Dead addresses a real need for Romero scholars. This text inspired me to examine Romero’s works more closely, including some I had forgotten about, never viewed, or failed to associate with Romero. This text addresses much of Romero’s catalog, showing how issues like consumerism, patriarchy, and war imagery function outside his Dead series. Not of the Living Dead will strongly appeal to its target audience: people who profess to be Romero fans but have not looked beyond his Dead films.  It serves as foundational reading for future scholars who may wish to examine the whole of Romero’s career, not just his most well-known contributions.

 -2 Oct. 2024