Even though it's a more than a classic, the beginning of an entire horror genre, I don't revisit this often. When I do, I find it still feels special, even after the zombie menace has seen so many permutations in the years since. It’s simple and sparse and bleak in a way that’s arresting: one house, one truck, one gun, six people, one horde of the undead.
Within that small context it explores the fledgling…
A slave to its format, which is no longer a novelty, this wanders into hazy technical territory and weaves a narrative that puzzles without frightening, and makes a distracting mess in the process.
This is one of those little movies that defies all genres by quirk-addled accident. Not funny enough to be a comedy, not dramatic enough to be a drama, not wacky or gross enough to be whatever it is that John Waters makes. Johnny Suede would be just a cute throwaway movie if not for the immense talent taking shape right before your eyes in Brad Pitt and Catherine Keener. Even so, it's barely worth a watch to see them, albino Nick Cave, and a brief glimpse of Sam Jackson, because that's really all there is to see.
In Jesse Eisenberg's major film debut, his blend of awkwardness, precociousness, and perfect comic timing are already almost fully developed. This is a memorable little story with a lot of sharp dialogue mostly delivered by Campbell Scott as his character misguidedly attempts to shepherd Eisenberg's into manhood to distract himself from his own continuing failure to grow up.
