Monday, April 26, 2010

Old School Movie Review: Dead Alive

I read an article awhile ago in the spring edition of Bitch Magazine. The article was about aging being “the ultimate cinematic horror” which is often played out literally in film. The article gave many examples and as a person who subscribes to Netflix I added them to my queue. Then I forgot I had added them.

A few days ago we received and watched the movie Dead Alive (1993) and OMG I wish I could turn back time. I am visually scared for life. I have seen graphic, disturbing movies before, but this is the all-time most grotesque, violent, bloody movie I have ever watched. I cannot believe there was no mention of how brutal and unsettling this film was. The article talked about how the mother Vera was the symbol for the destructive forces of aging but it forgets to mention how all the people get turned into zombies and how all the zombies eventually get destroyed—both of which are beyond sickening (skin tore off from body, limbs torn off from skin, zombie-baby in a blender, zombie-baby flies out of blender, but don’t worry—some other zombie’s head makes it in the blender for the ultimate shake, there is an zombie attack with a lawn mower that rips a multitude of bloody bodies across the screen, etc.).

I used to make light fun of my mom for always having nightmares after scary or even slightly thrilling movies, but I think if my mom saw this she’d have a heart attack before the movie even really began. My goddess. I mean seriously.

I had a nightmare afterward. It was about a soul-salesman. He worked for the devil. His job was to sell the people in hell’s souls to people on earth. I guess he could sell the whole soul or parts of it. In any case, he kept trying to get me to buy this one dude’s particular soul. I kept saying no, he kept insisting. Then the soul-salesman showed me the dude and I almost had a heart attack myself in my dreams. The dude was black, neckless, with a smushed, disproportioned face, he had blue eyes that bulged out of his sockets and were glazed over with white like marbles. And he kept staring at me with those creepy fucking eyes. The salesman kept hassling me. I kept shouting NO. I don’t want his soul. Leave me alone. It was rather annoying. And even after waking up I kept seeing the image of that guy. And I don’t really know what it means, but I just wanted to warn you all that soul-salesmen are out there.

If you see this movie it will fuck you up for life. If I could go back and take away those visual disturbances I would not hesitate for a moment to do so. I do not recommend this movie if you enjoy eating food, if you enjoy seeing more than just the color red when you watch films, or if you enjoy looking at people with their skin completely on their bodies.

I agree with the Bitch article author about the horrors of aging, I mean that theory is quite obvious, but I would have greatly appreciated more of a warning regarding the major puke-factor that this movie could bring its viewers. And all the nightmares that will potentially follow. . .

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