The Many Faces of Tom Savini

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Savini to Put the "Extreme" in Extreme Makeover: Home Edition

I'd never thought I'd be saying this, but you might want to tune into Extreme Makeover: Home Edition tonight on ABC. Apparently, the Douglas Education Center in Monesson, Pennsylvania, which includes Tom Savini's makeup effects school, will be participating in helping make "an autistic lad's dream come true."

I think this somehow involves building a new house for the kid, but I'm not sure where Savini comes in. Hopefully, it has something to do with tearing out Ty Pennington's small intestines like the bikers in Dawn of the Dead.

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Kicking Ass for the Lord: 40 Years of the Modern Zombie Movie, Part 3

Ironically, as the 1980s drew near an end and the popularity of horror movies began to wane from what it had been, the zombie subgenre briefly returned to its pre-modern voodoo roots with Wes Craven's The Serpent and the Rainbow (1987). The film was inspired by Haiti's vicious Duvalier dictatorship and the real-life investigator who travelled there to look into the long-standing rumors of zombification practices. Although it abandoned the modern, Romero-esque take on the walking dead, the atmospheric chiller became one of Craven's most critically acclaimed efforts.

Nevertheless, The Serpent and the Rainbow proved to be a brief aberration. The first heyday of zombie movies may have been over, but Romero's influence of the genre was here to stay. As proof of that, in 1990 Columbia Pictures got behind a remake of the seminal classic Night of the Living Dead, penned by George Romero and directed by makeup effects wiz Tom Savini. In part an attempt to cash in on the success of the original to an extent that Romero was unjustly prevented from doing the first time around, the new version was a mixed bag.

Romero was lauded for transforming his female lead Barbara from a traumatized wreck into a strong-willed heroine. The remake featured several interesting new interpretations, but many fans felt it was hamstrung by the large studio involvement and the need to fit within R-rating parameters, something none of the previous films had been required to do.

With the dearth of quality horror films in the 1990s came a dearth of memorable zombie flicks as well. Horror was moving more into the mainstream, resulting in safer, less graphically violent pictures--meaing there was less and less of a place for cinematic flesh-eating.

But there were exceptions, and chief among them came from the other side of the world--New Zealand, to be exact. Maverick filmmaker Peter Jackson, who had previously opened eyes with Bad Taste (1987), created in 1992 what is to this day still considered by many to be the most violent motion picture ever made: Braindead (a.k.a. Dead Alive).

One of the reasons Jackson was able to get away with it was the fact that his movie was a comedy, and thus the violence was so completely and cartoonishly over-the-top that it couldn't possibly be taken seriously--reanimated (and flatulent) digestive tracts, zombie copulation, an entire room of ghouls dispatched with a twirling lawnmower, etc. Braindead became an international cult sensation thanks to home video distribution, and gave the sub-genre a much-needed shot in the arm.

Other major entries of the period that distinctly stood out was 1993's Dellamorte Dellamore (a.k.a. Cemetery Man), an Italian effort that harkened back to the "spaghetti zombie" days of a decade earlier; and Return of the Living Dead 3 (1993), which turned out to be a surprisingly effective installment in an otherwise tired series thanks to a bold move away from comedy in favor of a more serious tone.

But aside from some refreshing exceptions, modern zombie films experienced perhaps the lowest point in their popularity during the 1990s. Ultra low-budget and shot-on-video productions dominated the niche as it went decidedly underground. Yet by the end of the decade and turn of the new century, just as down-and-dirty horror was experiencing a resurgence, so would the cinema of the living dead in particular. The second great zombie movie explosion was at hand.

To Be Continued...

Part 1: They're Coming to Get You
Part 2: No More Room in Hell

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The Time I Met Tom Savini

One of the benefits of having a site like this is the fact that it gives me the opportunity to assume that people will actually care to hear about various personal experiences of mine, and then the platform upon which to share them. A narcissistic indulgence I grant, but this is the 21st century, and everyone else seems to be doing it. So, on a slow news day like today, I'm going to show off my second most prized possession.

In case you're wondering (and really, why wouldn't you be?), my number-one most prized possession would be my original 1955 vinyl copy of Frank Sinatra's In the Wee Small Hours. Hey, it ain't all about the horror, baby. But the solid number two is this copy of the 1996 Anchor Bay double-cassette VHS release of George Romero's Dawn of the Dead, autographed by zombie makeup effects maestro Tom Savini himself.

There was a brief time between liberation from the bonds of parental supervision and the loss of disposable income via procreation that I took an interest in frequenting conventions. The best was New Jersey's Chiller Theatre convention, and it was at one of these that I met the man responsible for creating the images that haunted my nightmares for years.

I wanted to meet Tom Savini more than anyone else there--more than the guy who played Uncle Owen getting spoonfed by his attendant in the corner; more than any of the middle-aged chicks who had once played girls who got killed by Freddy Krueger; and even more than the guy who played the robot on Lost in Space but didn't do his voice. This wasn't a celebrity worship thing. This was me wanting to meet someone whose work I genuinely appreciated.

And there he was, standing at his table with a British woman who may have been a publicist, an assistant, a girlfriend, or a wife. I took advantage of the opening and introduced myself to the creator of Flattop, Bub and Dr. Tongue. I let him know how much sleep his effects work on Dawn of the Dead and Day of the Dead had caused me to lose. I asked him (circa 2000) if there were any plans for a fourth Dead film, to which he firmly responded there was no chance whatsoever (Tom, you sly dog).

After he signed my video box and I had walked away, I realized I had forgotten to pay for the autograph, yet he had never bothered to mention it or behave in anything but a gracious manner. That made a good impression on me. I never liked the idea of paying for autographs anyway, even if it's probably the bread and butter of a lot of the folks who appear at conventions.

And there you have it--my brush with the king of squibs and sheep intestines. Not much to it, but since there weren't any remakes announced today, I went with it.

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