GEORGE A. ROMERO'S DIARY OF THE DEAD (**)

It seems that George Romero still has something he wants to say. All of his 'Dead' films have been thinly veiled allegories for the social ills of a post-modern America; "Night of the Living Dead" (racism), "Dawn of the Dead" (consumerism), "Day of the Dead" (military, armageddon fears), and most recently, "Land of the Dead" (Unions of the Dead?). "Diary" is no exception. And you're gonna get that message delivered to you over and over in the span of its 1 hour and 40 minutes of running time.

There is a template that each of these films follows faithfully. A group of people are carrying on with their normal lives, when suddenly, the dead rise and begin feasting on the living. In this instance we are introduced to a group of college co-eds who are in the process of making a bad, low-budget horror film. A newsflash informs them, as always, that the dead have come back to life and are on the attack. From that point the running begins. The difference this time is that all of the action is being meticulously filmed and chronicled by Jason Creed (Joshua Close), the director of the above mentioned bad, low-budget horror film. As the world comes apart around them Jason trains his lens on his fellow filmmakers. (This first-person technique was utilized to a better effect in "Cloverfiled", and not so effectively in Brian DePalma's "Redacted".) Again, Romero populates his film with no-name actors, although one resembles a young Nic Cage and a blonde slightly resembles Kate Hudson. It really doesn't matter, you're not supposed to get to know them because they're all fodder for the zombie feast.

Once all heck breaks loose, our young film crew is on the run in a dilapidated Winnebago along with their alcoholic professor (who comes with a spiffy Ivy League British accent). They venture back to the dorms only to find that all have fled in terror, conveniently trashing the place in the process. (why is it that in these films, the vacated areas always look like they've endure a nuclear blast? Can't people leave a room in a panic with out breaking things?) From there the settings change from a hospital, to a black market warehouse, to an affluent country estate. All just new locales for blood to spill, brains to decimate and eyeballs to explode.

As in all the 'Dead' films, dilemmas arise. How can we kill a person, even when they're a brain-crazed zombie? Or, how do you kill someone who was formally your friend, but now considers you their source of daily nutrition? The learning curve is short in these films, and soon the carnage is coming fast and furious. Our protagonists become experts in the art of killing, training their guns, rifles and bow and arrows on everything without a pulse.

And now for the "message". The film hammers you over the head with how new media technology (internet, digital media, blogging, etc.) have now become the "new truth." With all the new voices gaining forums in a digital age, truth is becoming watered down. The film CONSTANTLY tells us it is the goal of these college filmmakers to expose the truth, all the while participating in the system that they are supposedly trying to uncover. The characters tell you. The voice-over narration tells you. Over and over again. Isn't it ironic that this review happens to be in a blog. Would Romero disapprove?

Now, I'm a zombie film fan. I loved Zack Snyder's revamping of "Dawn" and "Shaun of the Dead" was a spot-on spoof of the genre, all the while, delivering genuine thrills. But for all it's goriness and zombie action, "Diary of the Dead" lacks bite. The problem is the performers are too aware that they are making a statement that they are performing for the ever-present camera. And therefore the performances are a bit stilted. And once the young people are on the run, we all know where it goes from there. The only bright spot in the story comes when the gang stumbles upon a deaf Amish farmer who dispenses of the zombies in a very clever and old world way. Other than that, this film covers familiar ground.

The film is under Dimension Films Extreme banner, which is a home for truly shocking and disturbing horror flicks (Frontiers, Inside - both of which are better than "Diary"). It is a HARD R rating with lots of practical gore effects and few nifty digital ones. Plus, the language in this film could make a trucker or sailor blush. In short, Romero is saying that the youth of today, ion addition to having a vast array of media influences, also have potty mouths. Hmm, maybe he does have something to say afterall.
(2 stars out of 5)

Rating System:
***** = Oscar Contender
**** = Oscar Attendee
*** = Oscar Seat Filler
** = Oscars On TV at Home
* = Razzie Award (the anti-Oscar for really bad films)

A Screenwriter's Journey Begins

Okay, so...I'm a writer. A screenwriter to be specific. Now, I know what you're most likely thinking, "yeah, you and everybody else." And I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking that. It's like when someone says "I'm an actor or an actress." Yeah, sure you are. When you're Clooney or Pitt, you're an actor. When you got nothing on your IMDB resume, you're a WAITER. It's the same thing with writers. If you haven't had anything that you've written produced or even optioned, then it's really questionable in most people's minds that you are a legitimate writer. But, I'm aware of this, and far the most part, I'm okay with it. I haven't quit my day job yet.

I got started, presumably, the way most people who try their hand at writing get started. I watched a boat load of movies. And by boat load I mean A LOT of movies!! At least four every weekend.  (As I write this I'm half-heartedly paying attention to a silly film called "Doomsday".) The video store got to know me by name and cinematic preference. Small countries didn't pull down what I spent on films annually. And it was by watching the sheer amount of films that I did, that I came to be a kind of student of film; recognizing plot devices, character development, paying attention to dialogue and the way that the three acts are structured. It was in 1993, before the birth of my oldest son, that I decided to myself, "Hey, I could write a movie."

And so I wrote. And wrote. Attempt after attempt ended in failure and frustration. I wasn't able to make it ten pages into a draft without losing all semblance of logic and intelligence. Maybe this writing gig was gonna be harder than I thought. I kept telling myself, there are so many bad movies out there and all of them had writers. How could they have done it? I became all that more befuddled when I read through my material and realized that my stuff was even sub-par to the cream of the crap. I mean, my first few tries at writing made "I Spit On Your Grave" look like it was "The Godfather." Plain and simple, I was churning out literary fecal matter.

And then I had a breakthrough. Breakdown?

A story came to me. It was a simple tale about a man being released from prison after a long stretch and trying to adjust to the outside world. It was a small, independently-minded film. And at that time,  with the success of films like "Sling Blade", "Memento" and "Resevoir Dogs", it seemed like the time was right to tell this kind of a story. It took me six agonizing months to write the thing. When finished, it weighed in at a hefty 138 pages. It was the first story I had written that seemed to come naturally to me. I was able to write without getting hung up on it. I knew the story I wanted to tell and it just kinda came out. It was my "Magnum Opus". And I was very proud of this seemingly monumental accomplishment.

The problem was...it sucked.

I had a writing teacher that called it "cinema of the lethargic", because the main character kind of stumbled through the film from scene to scene and didn't really do anything. Things happened around him. I still, to this day, don't know if the tag he gave my screenplay was meant as a compliment or if he was politely tearing it apart. Regardless he gave me very thorough coverage on it and he even sat down with me to go through it page by page with his notes. But it was a turning point for me. Why? Because he looked at me, and in all seriousness said, "you need to re-work this, but I can see the potential for you to be a really good writer. You just need to bring out that voice inside you." That was the first spark in my writing career. It encouraged me to keep writing.

Now, I'll try to be brief on this next part, just in case readers (if any) are dropping like flies.

A couple of drafts later...I finally found my voice! I felt so confident with my work that I sent out a bunch of query letters to literary agents to tell them all that I'd found my voice and that I was ready for representation. Fortunately for me, one agent decided to give the script a read and, in a matter of weeks, I was signed with a WGA signatory agent! It is still a HIGH I will never forget. I had virtually sailed over a major hurdle that stop most writing careers dead in their tracks...getting an agent!

I entered the script into a few contest, making it to the semi-final rounds on a few occasions. Even got hand-signed letters from big contest sponsors letting me know that "although my script received high marks for creativity, originality and story-telling ability, it was unfortunately not moving on to the final round." (I'm sure you tell that to all the boys) It was also around this time that I realized that my agent wasn't working for me. I would never talk to her. She'd only correspond with me through the mail! She couldn't be bothered to keep her client in the loop about what was going on with his script! So, I had to part ways with the only modicum of success that I had attained thus far.

It seemed that I was going nowhere fast. My writing career was on the same track as thousands of others. My stuff was not going to be seen by anyone.

I'll leave the narrative here for now, since this is getting really long! I promise to not be as long-winded in upcoming installments.

If you have read this article to this point - GOD BLESS YOU! And thank you!