Keen eyed readers may recall that I reviewed Max Brook’s faux-oral history “World War Z” some years ago. It was a great book that successfully translated the horrors of zombies from film to the printed page. As a result of my affection for the book I was eagerly awaiting a chance to view the film version starring Brad Pitt. In fact, I saw it last night. What did I think?
BO-RING! A complete fucking failure. For one thing, the movie has none of the cool plot twists of any of the stories in the book. Plus no gore, no boobies and frankly, no meaningful scares.
My main complaint is that the movie is one of those films where you find yourself saying, “What? This is the end? Whatthefuck!” It had an entirely undramatic finish that felt tacked on. My understanding is that the movie was substantially recut in the editing room so it probably was tacked on.
The only upside in the film: some decent vaguely John Carpenter-ish scare music performed by the band Muse.
I have to admit, I’ve been disappointed with movies in general lately. (The last one I really enjoyed was “Rise of the Planet of the Apes.”) They seem totally predictable and lacking any real drama. There are no characters in “WWZ” that I was rooting for. Pitt came across as a stalwart douche with little interior conflict and the other characters are just forgettable cardboard cutouts. I had the same complaint, frankly, about the new Superman flick. Hollywood has mastered big budget spectacle, but lost its ability to portray real emotional drama and conflict (which it possessed in spades during the 70s as seen in the work of Scorsese, Coppola etc.) What’s going on? I suspect it is the death of the auteur. Modern movies are designed by committee and the result of everyone getting their say in the story is that the grand whole is weaker.