The title of Andrew Parkinson’s directorial debut evokes images of his central figure as a tyrannical leader of a horde, or even nation, of malicious zombies, all of which (but primarily the dictator himself), housing a propensity for wrath and a proclivity to inflict vast amounts of pain and suffering. Luckily, I, Zombie is everything but. Instead, the director flips the genre on its head and offers one of the most creative visions of relentless, agonizing psychological horror as he nonetheless proceeds to craft a masterpiece which possesses the capacity to sustain repeated viewings and multiple interpretations. In short, if the work were to have been a Hollywood production, it would have likely garnered Oscar nominations and, at that, as a horror film.
One weekend in late March, Mark (Giles Aspen)–a doctoral candidate in Botany–is gathering specimens when he stumbles across a dilapidated shack. Inside, he discovers a decaying corpse and a young woman who is violently heaving. As he is carrying the girl out, she abruptly bites her rescuer on the neck. Afterward, and upon the realization that he has suddenly become cannibalistic and that his wounds are refusing to heal, Mark isolates himself in order to protect the livelihood of his girlfriend, Sarah (Ellen Softley).
I, Zombie opens with the camera panning over Mark’s possessions which sit humbly upon his desk: a watch, whiskey cap, and thermometer. In true Hitchcockian style, à la Rear Window, each object symbolizes our character’s life in some thematic capacity. We come to learn that–due to the central character’s assiduous, scientific nature–Mark is documenting his metamorphosis into a zombie as he not only charts his descending temperature and symptoms, but is keeping a running audio and written record of his mental and emotional disintegration as well. It is with the latter which we come to know Mark for, like a veteran of celluloid, Parkinson fills the aural void during sequences involving Mark enclosed in his apartment with the character’s own voiceover narration. With this, the director lends a very eerie sense of uncanny reality to the proceedings as we intermittently cut between Mark and documentary-style interviews with those he left behind, the result of which is a fully flesh out (pun intended), masterfully created work of genius.
Beginning with the meat (pun II) of the matter, Mark’s dilemma can easily be read as a parable for alcoholism (foreshadowed and signaled by the whiskey cap and, later, Mark’s uncustomary alcohol intake) as we watch the character descend into the depths of pain and suffering akin to one addicted. Fortunately, instead of positing an enraged caricature which refuses to accept his plight, Parkinson wisely elects to have Mark acknowledge his predicament in order to evoke audience sympathy, which he accomplishes to such a thorough degree to make the film almost unbearable at times by telling his tale from the perspective of a zombie (a beautifully simplistic stroke of genius of the filmmaker’s behalf). We witness the classic symptoms of dependence as Mark experiences excruciating periods involving hallucinations, blackouts, convulsions, withdraw, all of which is goaded by his voluntary isolation as he is forced, against his will, to resort to theft and murder in order to sustain himself.
Aside from the fact that Mark’s situation could just as easily be said to be representative of the Multiple Personality Disorder as well, we watch as the Apollonian Mark (yet again, a genius choice of professions by having the character a doctoral candidate), attempts to reconcile his unremitting animalistic nature, a situation which harks of Friedrich Nietzsche’s propositions concerning the human predicament and its estranged relationship to its Dionysian self.
Amazingly, Parkinson maintains the feasibility of what is being witnessed onscreen as Mark initially resorts to makeup in order to subsist alongside the populace, thus fashioning a motif of an exterior which strives for feigned normalcy as its rotten underbelly endeavors to betray the host’s conscious denial or, in more philosophic terms, Sartrean Bad Faith. What is left is, not only a tone, but a philosophy frequently seen within the works of another master of cinema, David Lynch. This says nothing of the director succinctly incorporating the archetypical zombie, a classic metaphor for humanity literally feeding upon itself, amid a narrative in which a man literally, and twice over, falls apart.
It is the emotional and mental disintegration of Mark which, unlike anything else seen in horror (and rarely in cinema for that matter), wrings the audience’s heart. Parkinson’s epic ballad of existential isolation is not put forth solely for the purpose of evoking pathos in his audience anymore than the gore is presented to qualify the work as one of horror. Instead, alongside the multitude of readings the film already humors, the director’s ode to loneliness is an honest, unflinching look at the phenomenon (much like the, at first sadistic but then brutally honest, motion by Parkinson in which, when driving holes in his leg in order to secure a makeshift split, the camera pans away from Mark prior to metal meeting flesh only to–much like the character–be forced to nonetheless witness the event in its entirety after we are brazenly met by a mirror), beginning with Mark and Sarah’s rocky relationship which, following Aristotelian moral legislation, neither is accountable for obligatory circumstance is the culpable party in this regard. It is with this that the frequently criticized masturbatory episode serves as a metaphor for the whole as it plunges the viewer into a chasm of despair (which is paralleled by the beautifully concise image of Mark walking along a square as a flock of pigeons flees before him). As such, considering most every other instance of such appearing on camera is enacted with the intent to sexually arouse or oblige sophomoric comic sensibilities, Parkinson’s inclusion is, for once, a welcome and insightful contribution to the overall prowess of the feature.
Why then is I, Zombie not listed alongside the great works of terror? Parkinson remains faithful to the essence of his tale while ignoring what would otherwise be his core audience. The film is largely a work of drama with horrific elements and moments of gore. As can be understood, the former will disappoint mainstream viewers, and especially the gorehounds, as the film refuses to increase its pace for the sake of gratuitous genre convention as the latter will cause academic audiences to automatically disqualify the work for serious consideration on elitist principle. Admirably, the one demographic with Parkinson accommodates–the patient, receptive viewer–is greatly rewarded by the end of the stunning feature. Furthermore, the production was not granted a large budget as the acting is–at times–uncouth as the camera remains stagnant when it should be dynamic atop the lighting being unreliable throughout. However, the girth of the screenplay obviously makes these otherwise arbitrary quibbles all but obsolete. To his work’s credit, a large degree of the audience identification and concern for the character of Mark is due to the director’s own exquisitely patient, serene, and beautiful piano-driven score.
Needless to say, not only does Andrew Parkinson’s I, Zombie offer a rather interesting proposition in respect to missing persons (and, at that, twice over), he–and admittedly–more sincerely, presents a multi-layered expose upon such topics as isolation and addiction in a manner which raises the bar for, not only zombie cinema, but the whole of the genre. A masterpiece in most every aspect, Parkinson’s work is, arguably, the most criminally overlooked film within horror as, equally offensive, the production’s lack of exposure has resulted in a great talent having all but since gone to waste. At least we have I, Zombie.
-Egregious Gurnow
- Interview with J.R. Bookwalter - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Andrew J. Rausch - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Rick Popko and Dan West - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Director Stevan Mena (Malevolence) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Screenwriter Jeffery Reddick (Day of the Dead 2007) - January 22, 2015
- Teleconference interview with Mick Garris (Masters of Horror) - January 22, 2015
- A Day at the Morgue with Corri English (Unrest) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Writer/Director Nacho Cerda (The Abandoned, Aftermath) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actress Thora Birch (Dark Corners, The Hole, American Beauty) - January 22, 2015
- Interview with Actor Jason Behr, Plus Skinwalkers Press Coverage - January 22, 2015
I watched this movie at 10 years of age and thought it was special back then. Took long to discover it again. So enjoyed reading your review. Such a shame that there is now another production by the same name.