CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD (1980)
A reporter and a psychic race to close the Gates of Hell after the suicide of a clergyman caused them to open, allowing the dead to rise from their graves.
A reporter and a psychic race to close the Gates of Hell after the suicide of a clergyman caused them to open, allowing the dead to rise from their graves.
After the Sex Pistol’s “Friggin’ in the Riggin’” had hit No.3 in the UK music charts, March 1979, and lingered for 12 weeks with no airplay, banned punk records had become old-hat. Then so-called ‘video nasties’ became the hot topic of schoolyard bragging, and seeing particular ones was a rite of passage for many British children. The horror films of Lucio Fulci still have a special place in the hearts of those of a certain age, just before 1984’s Video Recordings Act.
Even before the Video Recordings Act was written, local councils were using the 1959 Obscene Publications Act to seize VHS copies and prosecute the proprietors of rental shops that stocked a wealth of worrying new exploitation movies. There was a furore in the British national press, stirred up by Mary Whitehouse and her cronies, in the National Viewers’ and Listeners’ Association (NVLA), some of whom began to bring private prosecutions against distributors of video nasties, even resurrecting out-dated blasphemy laws to do so. Scotland Yard compiled a list of more than 50 titles that could be legally seized, and as this list continued to grow it became the go-to check-list for teenage horror fans!
Fulci’s first zombie film, Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979), featured prominently on that list. City of the Living Dead (1980) was targeted by the NVLA but never officially listed, but his two follow-ups, The Beyond (1981) and The House by the Cemetery (1981), were both legally listed as “obscene”. As it was criminal to simply possess a copy, they couldn’t even be presented for re-certification, even after the 1984 act enforced regulation for home video. So, this ensured their notoriety—and cult status—for many years to come.
Inevitably, copies had got onto the market before the Act was passed, and these were then illegally copied and re-copied, to be distributed like an illicit substance, in sleeves that had been photocopied and re-photocopied into unreadable abstraction. The picture was fuzzy, the sound was a muffled hiss, but they were still much sought after. Sourcing a video nasty earned kudos and friends would come around to your house to watch, whilst eating crisps and drinking flat cider. Oh, those were the days!
If that scenario doesn’t rekindle any warm-and-fuzzy feelings of nostalgia, then perhaps City of the Living Dead isn’t for you. It certainly has many flaws. The acting is patchy, the narrative confused, and the quality variable. It may not be the greatest film, but it’s an important one that ushered in a new era of arty, yet aggressively visceral horror that defined the genre for Italian cinema. At a time when horror movies tended to rely on cheap shocks and gratuitous gore, Fulci and a handful of auteurs were hellbent on redefining horror. It’s his passion and originality that makes up for its many shortcomings.
Don’t expect a precious arthouse drama with detailed character studies! The cast has some fine moments, though I think some of the emotion is genuine rather than acted. For example, they’re convincingly revulsed when showered in live maggots, or have to regurgitate sheep intestines… and for every dud line of dialogue, there’s an equally quotable bit.
We’re not even 10-minutes in when a séance in New York goes dreadfully wrong. Young clairvoyant Mary (Catriona MacColl) foams at the mouth and gasps “I see… I see…” We don’t get to know what she sees, because she screams, falls to the floor in a seizure, and promptly dies. The police investigator (Martin Sorrentino) in his 1970s tan raincoat is understandably sceptical and believes drugs to be responsible, but Theresa (Adelaide Aste), the medium hosting the séance, dismisses him as “a comic book version” of a police sergeant, before telling him that, even as they speak, somewhere else, “horrendously awful things are happening—things that would shatter your imagination.” Well that, and a slow pan through a graveyard that lingers on a headstone inscribed with the legend ‘The soul that pines for eternity shall outspan death, you dweller of the twilight void come’, are big clues that the story may well be as psychologically disturbing and nonsensical as the best of H.P Lovecraft, the writer who planted the initial seed of inspiration in the imaginations of Fulci and his screenwriter, Dardano Sacchetti.
Sacchetti is one of the most important figures in the Italian cinema’s pulp boom of the ’70s and already had a great track record. He had a hand in writing the stories for Dario Argento’s The Cat O’Nine Tails (1971) and Mario Bava’s Bay of Blood (1971) and Shock (1977). He’d already worked with Fulci on The Psychic (1977) and Zombie Flesh Eaters—which some take as a prequel to City of the Living Dead because it aligns zombies with the supernatural. After the sunnier setting of the Caribbean, though, Fulci relocates his zombies to the US, and instead of voodoo, he draws upon the Biblical apocalypse by way of the Southern Gothic. Generally, City of the Living Dead is accepted as part one in his ‘Gates of Hell’ trilogy and Sacchetti would return as a writer on the following two instalments: The Beyond (which better reworks the central themes), and The House by the Cemetery (which remains my favourite Fulci film).
The so-called Gates of Hell trilogy are not directly linked stories; after all Catriona MacColl plays a different lead character in all three films. Fulci wanted her for the part when he saw her in Lady Oscar (1979), her debut starring-role as a female military commander during the French Revolution. After the first few minutes of City of the Living Dead, it’s easy to understand why Fulci liked her so much. She’s obviously prepared to put performance before looking pretty, and delivers some cheesy script with great aplomb, even when those around her are simply saying words.
After the disastrous séance, the action follows a dogged newspaper reporter, Peter (American actor Christopher George), who accompanies the exhumed Mary to the isolated town of Dunwich, because of what she saw in her apparently fatal vision. Once there, they team up with local psychiatrist Gerry (Fucli favourite Carlo De Mejo), and his coolly beautiful patient, Sandra (Swedish actress Janet Agren), who’ve noticed that the recent dead have been leaving their caskets and appearing to the living.
What links the Gates of Hell films is their undead theme and US setting, along with the fusion of Lovecraft mythology with more traditional Gothic tropes. Although considered by many to be “zombie movies”, Fulci’s living dead are reanimated revenants back from the dead rather than victims of some contagion that’s denied them a natural death. Admittedly, he got these films budgeted as an attempt to cash-in on the zombie bandwagon that George Romero had set in motion with Dawn of the Dead (1978), itself a belated follow-up to the groundbreaking Night of the Living Dead (1968).
So, inevitably, Romero and Fulci are often compared, and sometimes it feels like a sort of ‘Blur or Oasis’-style debate. Personally, I think the directors have markedly different approaches and their zombie films are at odds in both theme and aesthetic. It also seems that the difference isn’t just in the visual accent. If the content is analysed, Romero uses the zombie as an element in a broader political discourse. Fulci is more philosophical.
In many ways, with their central focus on mortality, both are ultimately life-affirming. Romero’s Living Dead films are satires—the zombies are like us; sure, they’re blue and bloodless, but they still mindlessly go through the routines of life. Fulci’s films are far more sombre affairs, his zombies are decaying maggot-ridden corpses—they may not be like us anymore, but we’ll eventually become like them! Though both are equally graphic in their gore, I admit I prefer the moody, highly textured visual style of Fulci over the brainless brutality of Romero’s zombies. A more obvious stylistic precursor for Fulci would be Amando de Ossorio’s Tombs of the Blind Dead (1972).
There’s a lot of existential angst in Fulci’s films, and City of the Living Dead is no exception. The tendency to linger on the gore effects reminds us that we’re nothing more than blood bone and meat—mainly offal it would seem! The horror is all about the vessel of the body being destroyed by rupturing, ripping, penetrating, or the decay that follows. That’s why it seems fitting that the curse that’ll raise the dead of Dunwich is sparked off by the town priest, Father Thomas (Fabrizio Jovine). It’s unclear why he decides to hang himself in the churchyard, maybe he’s already demonically possessed, or has lost his faith in some spiritual crisis. Either way, his suicide on consecrated ground results in him being shunned from the afterlife and returning to get the Biblical apocalypse underway.
His first victim, Emily Robbins (Antonella Interlenghi), is apparently choked to death with flesh-slime and grave dirt, making the corruption of the flesh a major motif. Later on, there is a storm of maggots in a scene that tries to outdo the similar sequence in Dario Argento’s Suspiria (1977). Here though, there’s a psycho-sexual suggestion of procreating through decay, the corruption of the flesh as it is consumed to create new life—life beyond death at its basest.
Fulci’s zombies appear and disappear like ghosts and they don’t simply kill their prey by biting and ripping, though there’s a fair amount of that. In one of the film’s most infamous sequences, the undead suicide priest appears to a teenage couple as they ‘make-out’ in a parked car—never a good idea in any horror movie! He causes his victim (Daniela Doria) first to cry blood and then, literally, puke her guts up. Just by giving her a hard stare. This protracted gory gross-out (a showcase for the highly inventive mechanical effects devised by Gino De Rossi) is witnessed by her boyfriend, whom cult film fans may recognise as the young Michele Soavi. He went on to direct two notable ’80s cult classics, StageFright (1987) and The Church (1989), before hitting his stride as an auteur with two of the most fiercely original and weirdest horror films to come out of Italian cinema: The Sect (1991) and Cemetery Man (1994).
City of the Living Dead sounds great, eh? Well, it won’t disappoint fans of ‘80s hardcore horror, but there are better examples out there—the other two segments of the Gates of Hell trilogy, for instance. What lets it down most is the inconsistent quality. Luckily the inspired, inventive, beautifully shot content outweighs the poorly shot B Movie bits.
It’s also incoherent and doesn’t make much sense, which does unsettle the viewer and goes some way to creating its immersive atmosphere as intellectual grappling is confounded at every turn. We don’t really know why Father Thomas kills himself, and it’s never explained how this causes the dead to rise, or why the protagonists must stop him on Halloween night. There are also a few narrative loose ends: characters we never see are referred to by name, and previous events are mentioned in passing without their significance being explained. Perhaps it’s poor script editing, or it could be intended to imply that this story is just one in a more complex tapestry of supernatural tales. We really don’t care too much by the time this all builds up to a fantastic finale in a forgotten subterranean necropolis that is brilliantly staged, with a striking set by Massimo Antonello Geleng.
But then… there’s the surprise, nonsense ending! I usually avoid any major spoilers, even when reviewing classics, but the conclusion of City of the Living Dead has sparked so many unsatisfactory explanations that I think I may have something to contribute to the debate. So, if you’d like to avoid potential spoilers, skip the next paragraph!
SPOILER ALERT!
The final few frames really don’t seem to make sense and leave viewers with the feeling they’ve missed some important clue. It begs the questions “Well what was that all about? What’s that supposed to mean?” A bit like life, I suppose! As Gerry and Mary climb out from the hellish underworld, after defeating Father Thomas and his legion of shuffling undead, they seem relieved as John-John (Luca Venantini), younger brother of the cursed priest’s first victim, comes running joyfully to great them in smiling slow-motion. Then Mary begins to scream and the freeze-frame fractures. Certainly, it stimulates immediate debate as the credits roll and seems to imply something about the hereditary curse of the Salem Witch-burners, which is alluded to throughout and, if followed to its logical(?) conclusion, would mean that the innocent child may be the last in the line. Which, of course, means there’s potential for it all to happen all over again should he ever commit suicide in a churchyard. So, is that why Mary’s screaming? Because we know she’s a clairvoyant who suffers visions of the future and so would realise with certainty that, despite surviving all that horror, they have merely postponed the apocalypse…
This is a definitive Arrow Video release, that will certainly please the fans. Considering the grain of the original stock and the inconsistent nature of photography, this 4K restoration (scanned from the original negatives), presents the sound and image as clean as they’re ever going to be. There are more than six hours of extras, plus another three hours if you include the two full-length audio commentaries!
There are also interviews with key members of the cast and crew, who are still alive, and rare behind the scenes footage. Admittedly, some of this will only be of interest to hardcore aficionados, and several anecdotes are repeated. Although not released in running order, this now completes Arrow Video’s lovingly restored Blu-ray editions of Fulci’s notorious ‘Gates of Hell’ trilogy, along with The Beyond and The House By the Cemetery, as well as their ‘prequel’ Zombie Flesh Eaters.
director: Lucio Fulci.
writers: Lucio Fulci & Dardano Sacchetti.
starring: Christopher George, Catriona MacColl (as Katriona MacColl), Carlo De Mejo, Antonella Interlenghi & Giovanni Lombardo Radice.