Morricone Youth: NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD

Last night I pushed through a haze of post-work fatigue to attend a screening of Romero's NOTLD (first time on the big screen for me!), with live accompaniment by New York's Morricone Youth. The band are here in Sydney to perform their re-score of the Pittsburgh lensed zombie classic, as well as Miller's MAD MAX. Having done zero research on the band beforehand, I went into the screening unsure of what to expect. Rock? Synth? Chamber orchestra? Taking my seat, third row from front, it became immediately obvious from the setup (bass, guitar, drums, two keyboard/synth rigs, vocals) that my secret hopes were to be rewarded: I was in for some proggy goodness, ala Goblin.

Morricone Youth delivered on that promise in spades, at points almost outplaying the Italian masters at their own game. What they've essentially done here is to give NIGHT a sister score to Goblin's iconic cues for DAWN OF THE DEAD. Mounting waves of pounding rock, throbbing synth and spooky glockenspiel, elevated to euphoric levels by some fantastic, operatic vocals (performed by a woman who I can't find a mention of anywhere, what gives?). Some research this morning reveals that they recently toured with Goblin in the States, and have previously re-scored a number of other cult films.

It's a shame that last night's haunting, powerful vocals are barely represented on the vinyl release of NOTLD, because their impact, live in front of the film, was immeasurable. The word transcendent comes to mind, making this my favourite viewing of Romero's seminal classic to date. The experience gave me a new and deeper appreciation of the film: the radicalism of its civil rights theme, its gorgeously lit black and white cinematography and wonderful editing, both courtesy of a young and hungry Romero. It throws into sharp focus just how talented and utterly electric the young Pittsburgh artist was. This film was dangerous, and exactly half a century later is still vitally important.

If you get a chance to see this show (especially with vocal accompaniment), don't sleep on it!

Yeah, they're dead. They're all messed up.

George A. Romero

I could write thousands of words on the life of George A. Romero, but frankly I'm feeling too gutted to put the words together. His influence on horror, on cinema, is inestimable. His influence on me personally since 1979 has been profound.

Cultural iconoclast. Cinematic maverick. Rebel. Romero's films held a mirror up to the western world, encouraging us to reflect on and examine some of our ugliest problems: greed, xenophobia, social injustice, militancy, and nationalism. In his life and work he was fiercely independent, never compromising his values, toiling to the end outside of the corporate studio system that he railed against.

And the man was quintessentially cool, a quality that saturates his entire filmography. Countless imitators have tried to equal the badass chemistry of Peter, Roger, Fran and Stephen, but only Romero could have created an elite squad of apocalyptic survivors as perfectly cool as that foursome.

In 1968 the release of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD heralded the modern era of horror cinema. The father of that epoch is gone, but his legacy lives on in every film, every shot, every frame of the genre that he was so instrumental in shaping.

Bill Hinzman

artwork: Chet Zar

Bill Hinzman, famous for his portrayal of the "cemetery zombie" in Romero's Night Of The Living Dead, has died. Some may consider him to be a minor player amongst the pantheon of modern horror cinema, but I think his contribution was a vital one, and certainly worthy of memory.

He was after all the original "modern" zombie. The ancestral progenitor to an endless horde of the walking dead that has been infesting our screens for the 44 years since he lurched out of that first cemetery.

In fact, the legacy of NOTLD is virtually immeasurable. Not only is it the forerunner of the modern living dead film, but many consider it to be the precursor to modern horror cinema in general. It heralded in an era of horror that would be more visceral, allegorical and thoughtful than anything that had proceeded it.

Viewed in that light, Hinzman's contribution to horror as the inaugural monster of the new era is a profound one indeed.

Bill also had minor parts in Romero's next three films - There's Always Vanilla, Season Of The Witch and The Crazies, on which he also served as D.O.P.