Originally, I was planning to riff on a suggestion Dennis--bless his inventive (and somewhat twisted) brain--made. But then the proverbial "little birdie" (a.k.a. Twitter) told me that today is George Romero's birthday.
Now, in the name of honesty, I have to disclose the following anecdote. My co-worker, who is also the office's Movie Buff in Residence--let's call him "J"--lent me his copy of Shaun of the Dead. And while Simon Pegg is always fun to watch, not to mention at his absolute funniest in deadpan mode--no quasi-pun intended--the comedy just wasn't my cup of brains.
J. seemed disappointed at my disappointment, and tried to contextualize the movie as "a tribute to George Romero." "What's a 'George Romero'?" I asked. J. literally stopped in his tracks, visibly deflated, and said plaintively, "Okay. You know when you make those historical references and I don't get them? That's what this feels like." (As it turns out, the George Romero of which J. was speaking is the "godfather of zombie movies." Whoops.)
Poor J. I felt bad. Really I did. And I realized that I'd also lost a not-insignificant amount of Geek Cred. At least I can partially redeem myself for the first trespass here and now. But the memory of the incident set me wondering why zombie movies tend to be cult movies and, moreover, why they also tend to appeal to a geekier demographic.
The first thought that sprang to mind was that any apocalypse (zombie, nuclear, etc.) qualifies as an escapist fantasy. Sure, reliable 4G/wi-fi access may be hard to find, but in the meantime, office politics-as-usual are a luxury your plucky little band of survivors can't afford. Also, sheer brawn is next to useless. Mainly because if you go mano-a-mano with a zombie, you're already dead. Outwitting them enough to stay just inside shotgun range is the game, friends and bretheren.
And speaking of shotguns, my complimentary armchair theory to the above was: A zombie apocalypse would be--let's face it--the ultimate first-person shooter video game. No need to worry about gratuitous head shots because, well, it's their brains or yours. Plus, zombies are already dead, so it's technically not murder. And you can be almost certain that their former selves would actually be cheering you on. Long story short: No ethical ambiguities need apply.
In light of those two considerations, zombie movies should, by all rights, be catnip for the average geek. Alas, I've never fallen under that particular "average." True, George Carlin warned against underestimating the power of stupid people in large groups. But. The shambling pace of any zombie horde never seemed to me to qualify it as a credible threat. Nope: Too much suspension of disbelief for me, I'm afraid. Sorry 'bout that.
Then, too, the flavor of horror movies on which I was raised was decidedly more genteel and reasonable--stuff involving Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Lon Cheney Jr. and the like. You know: Scientists "renovating" ancient castles with no visible means of support. Police coronors not batting an eyelash at corpses entirely drained of blood. Silver bullets standing up to the rigors of modern ballistics. The fact that the ancient Egyptian embalming process involved not only removing internal organs, but also extracting the brain (with a hook through the nose) before discarding it. (That lovely mental image you just had there? You're welcome--no need to thank me.)
Yeah, much less suspension of disbelief involved. [eyeroll]
