Okay. Just follow me for a minute... It seems there's an off-screen nuclear war and now human-hungering zombies are overrunning the world. (I don't remember reading about this phenomenon after they dropped the bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.) Okay, now we meet a married couple with a kid who are driving home from a couple of at a remote cabin where, conveniently, there was no television or radio. When they turn on the car radio they listen to various television broadcasts (!) about the war and the zombies. Then the war breaks down and they decide to hide in a building, and... and... who cares.
I was predisposed to hate this movie because it began with an arty graphic treatment of a poem, which seemed inappropriate to the subject matter of the film. I didn't recognize the name of the poet. Then the credits began, and lo-and-behold, the poet was none other than one of the producers of the film: Amber L. Francis. Now, I'm thinking that this, rather than just being a backyard production, is a pretentious backyard production. However, at the end of the film, you discover that Ms. Francis, who was also a writer and actress in the film, died after the production. My condolences. Now, I understood the poem, and, in retrospect, I found it very poignant and moving. It was the best thing in the film.
I hadn't reviewed a film in a while on the IMDb, but, as I was watching this film, I knew I had to return. I couldn't wait to tear this thing apart. Now, out of respect for the late Ms. Francis, I will resist the urge. In fact, now I will actually try to compliment it.
Good things:
1. Some of the gore wasn't bad -- compared to films of a similar budget level. 2. The picture was in focus more often than it was out of focus. 3. Having the zombies only come out at night was a unique twist on the normal Romerian zombie world-view. 4. It wasn't the worst horror film in the world -- that would be "Ax'em." 5. The poem was touching (in context).
