This past Sunday (10-31), AMC premiered their new show The Walking Dead, based off the graphic novel of the same title. This premiere became the number one watched original series for AMC, a huge feat for a channel that airs both Mad Men and Breaking Bad. However, this post isn’t about the amount of people that watched the show, it is about how the show represents a revival of old-school horror in a country that has recently turned to brutality as a replacement for suspense (see: Saw. Get it?)
The Walking Dead returns to the influences of George A. Romero’s approach to zombies. Namely, zombies were the walking dead, not the running, sprinting, and gallivanting dead. The show treats the undead with a watchful and curious eye, and – in doing so – paints a picture of a post-apocalyptic world that is both poignant and horrifying. Rarely does the show resort to quick cuts and cheap tricks to draw an instinct-based fear reaction. Instead, the premiere episode uses broad strokes to paint a picture of a world without hope: empty cars flood the streets, apocalyptic messages are sprawled across buildings and doors, and the camps where survivors once defended themselves are now ominously empty. The cinematography is slow and precise, with each shot layering into the creation of a dead world, reminiscent of 28 Days Later with its long, sweeping landscapes and melodic shots.
Few, but strong, characters, populate this dead world. All of these characters are coping with the loss of humanity by clinging desperately to the ones they love. Each group of characters is dealing with a common enemy, but in different means; and it will be interesting to see how these separate stories continue to interact. Through each group of people and their acceptance of loss and difficulty to maintain faith the show becomes a contemplation about the meaning of life and what is worth living for, wrapped in the clever guise of horror. It begins to ponder philosophical issues pertaining to faith, life, and why we wake up in the morning if death is inevitable.
These questions are at the center of many older horror movies and many that are imported from overseas (namely Japan and S. Korea*). The stories deal with the questions of faith and the will to survive in the face of death, whether that death is in the form of ghost, ghoul or vampire. Slow pacing and building suspense allows the viewer to empathize with the protagonist, to feel how they feel. This has been lost in the face of Rob Zombie and other modern horror directors who resort to shock impulse as a substitute for fear. Of course one will jump at the unexpected, the killer’s knife or something leaping from the dark, but that feeling doesn’t make the viewer question or feel in a legitimate fashion. It’s the difference between pornography and a dramatic romance, one ends at the credits (or before) whereas the other lingers.
It is pleasant to see that The Walking Dead got so many things right, and I am legitimately excited for what the future of the show will bring. I’m hopeful that the show’s record-setting premiere will draw in a strong second-week audience, which will confirm that thought and pace still have a place in modern film and television. Next time you sit down to watch a horror, question the director’s motives and the way they follow through with them. The genre has a lot more potential than just cheap scares and it will be a sad day if everyone forgets that and buys into cheap, impulsive scares.
*(Recommendation for anyone unacquainted with Korean horror: A Tale of Two Sisters, directed by Ji-woon Kim.)
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