I'm home sick today from work. It's probably the flu. It's probably not some sort of zombie-animating virus, but who knows, eh? I'm couching it. Wrapped in a faded yellow blanket and catching up on my Netflix "Watch Instantly" queue.
Today's big surprise is American Zombie
is a fictional documentary that follows a ragtag documentary film crew as they explore Los Angeles' community of Zombie-Americans. The zombies are emblematic of all sorts of Los Angeles types: the burnout convenience store clerk; the social activist; the hippie new age emotionally-fragile artist; and a macro-biotic, vegan marketing exec. They have their own un-lives, passions, questions, etc. They all wish they had rights or could find a place in the world. In short, the zombies are a perfect stand-in for any other outcast group. At first.
But there are questions raised. There is a slow burn of tension. One of the producers, John, becomes convinced the Zombie-Americans are hiding something and he becomes determined to go to their big, no-humans-allowed, Burning Man-esque festival. And the slow burn boils over.
It's an engaging, warm film with a masterful undercurrent of dread. This is highly-recommended stuff, folks. Ignore the reviews, most of them are from people who wanted a typical blood-and-guts zombie film and were disheartened to discover a thoughtful and weird film with a tiny hungry void in its heart.