Army of the Dead film review: Relentless ghouls: check. Selfless heroics: check. Lifeless characters: check

Film

Pun intended – Zack Snyder’s ‘Army of the Dead’ lacks flesh-andblood characters

Pun intended – Zack Snyder’s ‘Army of the Dead’ lacks flesh-andblood characters

‘Oxygen’ is occasionally breath-taking

Pun intended – Zack Snyder’s ‘Army of the Dead’ lacks flesh-andblood characters

Hilary White

May 16 2021 02:30 AM

Army of the Dead

(Three stars)

Cert TBC, from May 21 on Netflix

Released just days after the death of visionary Night of the Living Dead director George Romero, Living with the Living Dead: The Wisdom of the Zombie Apocalypse saw author Greg Garrett break down the relentless tide of the zombie in popular culture. It was 2017, and both Game of Thrones (with its overarching menace, the White Walkers) and zombie-apocalypse serial The Walking Dead were attracting viewers in their millions.

The book explained our love of the undead, be it in TV dramas, feature films, video games, or even theatrical political protests.

Obviously, it has nothing to do with zombies per se and is more reflective of what they represent so viscerally to us, from pandemics (oh, yes) and environmental ruin, to overpopulation, extremism, and refugee crises.

Romero himself used the zombie as a cypher for racism, consumerism, and individualism in US society. Even at their most mundane level, ceaseless waves of brain-eating cadavers limp towards us like monotonous jobs, jammed inboxes, and taxes. And in fighting them off, the essence of being human (self-sacrificial love, treachery, survival) is put on display.

Zack Snyder has received much vitriol in recent years over his less-than-wonderful DC Comics adaptations, such as Justice League and Batman v Superman. But Snyder made his feature debut in 2004 with a decent revision of Romero’s zombie classic, and had so much fun that his intention was always to return to the myth. Much like a superhero adaptation, creating a new zombie object to place in the world is a balancing act – give the people what they want from this trope-heavy genre, but refresh and update where possible.

For Army of the Dead, Snyder is launching a franchise that has already confirmed a prequel and an animated TV series. The premise is a new evolution of alpha zombies that are quick and tactical. In a lively and very Snyderish opening sequence, we are debriefed in gay tones about a mass outbreak in Las Vegas and the eventual containment of the horde within a wall of shipping containers.

We meet Scott (Dave Bautista), a hero from that effort who has now, like the rest of the war heroes, been forgotten by officialdom and is resigned to flipping burgers. He is approached by a shady businessman (Hiroyuki Sanada) and offered a way out. Inside the zombie-controlled quarantine zone is a casino vault with $200m. If Scott can put together a team to get in, open the safe, grab the cash, and get out, he will be a rich man for his trouble.

That trouble, however, is fairly significant. A community of alpha zombies prowl the apocalyptic environ, and there is also a 32-hour time limit before the city and the zombie virus are nuked to kingdom come. Scott’s motivation is bolstered by the chance to start a new life with estranged daughter Kate (Ella Purnell).

Into the suicide squad, Scott enlists various comrades old and new (Ana de la Reguera, Omari Hardwick, Raúl Castillo, Samantha Win), a coyote to get them in (Nora Arnezeder), a helicopter pilot to get them out (Tig Notaro), and a safe cracker to pop the lid on the loot (Matthias Schweighöfer). And just to make things extra interesting, Kate insists on coming along into the zombie-infested hellhole.

Relentless ghouls: check. Selfless heroics: check. Skulduggery to reveal the “real” monsters: check. All these requisite ingredients are present along with fresh spins on the genre, whack-a-mole violence, and creature-feature fun (there’s even a zombie white tiger, presumably a nod to Las Vegas institution Siegfried & Roy, who both passed away after filming). Snyder’s brand (he directs, co-writes, co-produces, and even handles cinematography) is writ large, especially in the slo-mo larking of the elaborate intro.

The reason Army of the Dead rings hollow despite all these things is that we aren’t given enough to get behind when it comes to the characters, and without that, we don’t come to feel that the mission is necessary, or the characters’ lives are precious. In comparable set-ups, such as Aliens (1986), the team was fleshed out under our nose so that by the time they went inside the horror show, we were terrified for them. Here, it just feels like we’re holding a joypad and moving through levels on a video game, with a bit of characterisation tacked on like an afterthought. We like to know a little bit more about the brains being eaten.

‘Oxygen’ is occasionally breath-taking

Oxygen

(Three stars)

Netflix; available now

Netflix has a whopper budget, but its films can be hit and miss. Its last two big-budget space productions for instance, The Midnight Sky and Stowaway, were misses. Oxygen, directed by French horror specialist Alexandre Aja, whilst flawed, is definitely better.

However, it is difficult to describe because so much hinges on the audience, and the protagonist, working out the story. Suffice to say that a woman (Mélanie Laurent) wakes in a cryochamber. She has no idea why she is there or even who she is. Her only information comes from a computer called MILO (voice of Mathieu Amalric) whose first intervention is to explain that she is low on oxygen.

This is not Aja’s usual horror show, but it is creepy. The premise is inherently scary, and the opening scenes give a sense of claustrophobia which add to the fear factor very effectively. It also ties in well to the claustrophobia of lockdown.

Oxygen is Aja’s first French-language film in 20 years. It was originally an English-language project starring Anne Hathaway. Mercifully, the movie switched to French and Mélanie Laurent took the lead, and she is excellent. A dubbed version is available.

Undergods

(Three stars)
VOD; from May 17

Imagine Wes Anderson directing a cross between The Handmaid’s Tale and Blade Runner and you will have some flavour of Chino Moya’s Undergods. Dystopian sci-fi with a social conscience, a wry sense of humour and a powerful soundtrack – there is a lot packed into this clever film.

The movie opens to a Vangelis-esque tune which sends echoes of Blade Runner through a decimated city. Two scavengers collect people; alive or dead humans can be sold. A missing man returns to his former home to find his wife (Kate Dickie) remarried. A couple in a high rise building take in a stranger (Ned Dennehy).

Stories that at first seem unconnected tie together to offer food for thought. The film is a reflection on capitalism, amongst other things. There is a theme about hierarchy – certain sections of society might seem safe, but everyone is vulnerable to something. It is also about responsibility, on a personal and societal level.

Undergods is not a light watch, although it is done with humour; nor will it be to everyone’s taste. But if thought-provoking dystopian treatises on society float your boat, you will be a happy sailor.

Sequin in a Blue Room
(Three stars)

IFI@HOME; available now

The opening titles lay the cards on the table, this is “A homosexual film by Samuel Van Grinsven”. It was also Van Grinsven’s MA project, for which he deserved top marks.
This Australian coming-of-age drama is about an aspect of gay hook-ups. However, it is also about a young man learning the extent, and limits, of the power of youth.

Sequin (Conor Leach) is the name that a beautiful 16-year-old boy uses on a sex app. He is dismissive when a classmate, Tommy (Simon Croker), makes advances because Sequin is already playing with the big boys. He likes older men, thinking he has all the power. But, after a sex party in the Blue Room, Sequin realises that this may not be entirely the case. His father (Jeremy Lindsay Taylor) is allowing him space but has no real idea of his son’s night-time activities. Secrecy means that the boy feels isolated when events take a sinister turn.

Sequin in a Blue Room is sexually thrilling, without any sense of judgment. Leach, a newcomer, is wonderful and there is such an energy and lightness to the film that it works really well. Áine O’Connor