Scary Movies? I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie that scared me more than having to go to the corner deli for a bagel and a schmear, knowing full well that the smell from yesterday’s turkey had already attracted a semi-horde of zombies looking for a Jimmy Rudolph brain schmear, hold the bagel. No, Jazz Fans, what we thought was scary back in the pre-zombie apocalypse day turns out to be wishful thinking. What used to elicit screams now only provokes an indulgent and wistful sigh. “Ah, Mr. Romero, if only we had it that good.”
Jimmy Rudolph, from WZMB Zombie Radio Show here. Brewed me some vodka last night and put on an old favorite– “Alien.” I remember watching that in an NYC movie house with old flame Kendra Protacio, and I remember being terrified. Turns out Kendra was a man. The movie was pretty scary, too.
But let’s face it, the thrill has left the building, gotten devoured by the undead, and has shambled back without luster or energy. As an ultimate killing machine, virulantly hostile, lethal, and unstoppable (unless you want an acid bath,) Alien just doesn’t stack up against life in the undead lane.
First of all, an Alien is born by being implanted in a human host, then bursting out through the stomach. Sounds like childbirth to me, jazz fans, and women go through it every day. It probably would have gone smoother for John Hurt if he’d had a vagina. But all that thrashing around on the table, spilling everyone’s meal, over a few intense contractions? Man up, Mr. Hurt. Where’s that British stiff upper lip?
Even if the technicality of not having a vagina makes for some discomfort, there are no nerve endings in the intestine. Zombies attack from the outside, where you keep all your sensitive skin. Once they break the flesh, the Z-Gene infects your blood, creating fever, aches and pain that Midol doesn’t even take the edge off. This doesn’t last until dinner time is over. It lasts for three days. (Unless your O Negative. Lucky bastards transform instantly.) Try thrashing about on the table for three days, Mr. Hurt! (I’m sorry, he irritates me. All that spilled food. And this is space. You can’t just stop off at the deli for more.) Finally, the Zombie that is born inside you doesn’t leave your bloody husk on the table, in peace. No! You ARE the zombie that is born, and your ass gets dragged around all over the city.
Then, there’s the non-baby Alien. Say what you want about him, he’s clean. All shiny, with white teeth. He’s efficient, usually leaving you only enough time to scream non-sensical gibberish over the PA before dispatching you. And he likes to stalk you. You rarely see him coming. You can’t escape, it’s true, but you can’t spend your last moments quaking in fear, either.
Zombies, on the other hand, are filthy creatures that you can smell coming from a mile away.They’d make you gag, if you weren’t already gagging over the sight of your own blood. They’re woefully pathetic killers, sometimes gnawing for hours on your leg before realizing that the brain is in the skull. And they’ll chase you for hours. They have to. It takes them hours to catch up. But their sheer numbers make them lethal. You should be able to defeat them easily, but you can’t. It’s like a nightmare of running in sand with a dulled machete, and you can feel yourself just giving up as the hordes close in.
Now, that’s scary.
Take note, Mr. Scott. Word is out you’re working on an Alien tie-in movie, “Prometheus.”Let’s see if you can get it right this time. Because we need explosive horror on the screen in order to distract us from the explosive horror of real life.
And Kendra, stop calling me! Seriously!