It's a good thing that George Romero does that John Carpenter thing of putting his name before the title of his films. In the case of DIARY OF THE DEAD, it may be necessary as the title doesn't show up until the end of the film. Otherwise, innocent viewers may be mistaken that the dreck they're seeing was produced by some twentysomething punks rather than a deluded, seasoned master.
The conceit of the film is that it's actually a cinema verite documentary, DEATH OF DEATH, by student filmmaker Jason Creed (Joshua Close), his band of friends, and his soused professor. The "handheld camera-work" device fails miserably as we're never privy to the team of gaffers that run ahead of our intrepid heroes to light everything (flatly) before they arrive. Also, the "handheld shots" are obviously steadicam. I'm sorry to geek out about this but Romero never lets up on the "you're watching people tape this" aspect, causing me to see all of the ways in which it wasn't. In other words, it's not BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, BLOOD OF THE BEAST, or Zack Snyder's remake of DAWN OF THE DEAD.
With the camcorder, Winnebago travel, and insistence that "dead things don't run," it appears that DIARY OF THE DEAD is Romero's commentary on Snyder's reworking of his film. Unfortunately, Romero only succeeded at making me long for the verve and gallows humour of Snyder's film instead. The jokes of DIARY OF THE DEAD induce more groans than a legion of zombies. Meanwhile, the thrills never managed to get me anywhere near the edge of my seat. Worse yet, the obligatory Romero social commentary is handled ham-handedly via voiceovers from the vociferous Bree (Michelle Morgan looking very Eliza Dushku-esquire) and occasional montages of re-appropriated news footage. These sequences put the brakes on the already plodding story. To be fair, the story moves just like a Romero zombie; it shambles along.
The only bit that provided some good laughs and thrills came from the all too brief appearance of a deaf Amish man. Sadly, this segment felt like it came from another, less self-important film.
The conceit of the film is that it's actually a cinema verite documentary, DEATH OF DEATH, by student filmmaker Jason Creed (Joshua Close), his band of friends, and his soused professor. The "handheld camera-work" device fails miserably as we're never privy to the team of gaffers that run ahead of our intrepid heroes to light everything (flatly) before they arrive. Also, the "handheld shots" are obviously steadicam. I'm sorry to geek out about this but Romero never lets up on the "you're watching people tape this" aspect, causing me to see all of the ways in which it wasn't. In other words, it's not BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, BLOOD OF THE BEAST, or Zack Snyder's remake of DAWN OF THE DEAD.
With the camcorder, Winnebago travel, and insistence that "dead things don't run," it appears that DIARY OF THE DEAD is Romero's commentary on Snyder's reworking of his film. Unfortunately, Romero only succeeded at making me long for the verve and gallows humour of Snyder's film instead. The jokes of DIARY OF THE DEAD induce more groans than a legion of zombies. Meanwhile, the thrills never managed to get me anywhere near the edge of my seat. Worse yet, the obligatory Romero social commentary is handled ham-handedly via voiceovers from the vociferous Bree (Michelle Morgan looking very Eliza Dushku-esquire) and occasional montages of re-appropriated news footage. These sequences put the brakes on the already plodding story. To be fair, the story moves just like a Romero zombie; it shambles along.
The only bit that provided some good laughs and thrills came from the all too brief appearance of a deaf Amish man. Sadly, this segment felt like it came from another, less self-important film.