THE LIVING DEAD AT THE MANCHESTER MORGUE

Zombies are perhaps the most potent and timely monsters of our age. Whereas vampires and werewolves continue to faithfully represent the forbidden desires and imbedded violence of our species, it is the figure of the blood splattered zombie that best summarizes the tensions and anxieties of the 20th century. With our world spinning ever closer to mass anarchy, unthinking cruelty, and decay (both culturally and politically), this unstoppable archetype of unthinking violence promises to rip and tear its way through the guts of the 21st century as well. At their most fundamental, zombies remind us of the deadly unreasoning savagery of the masses, as well as our unconquerable brutality. We are them, they are us, as practically every zombie film worth its salt has declared since George A. Romero unleashed his glossy eyed cannibal corpses on Pittsburg in 1968. They are our families and friends, forgetting compassion or passion, loyalty or love. We are nothing but food now, and whether you see a political subtext warning against mob mentality in their stumbling attacks or catch a glimpse of your own capacity for cruelty in the empty windows of their eyes, one thing is certain: they want to hurt you, you can't reason with them.

And, hey, they're eating grandma!

The Living Dead at the Manchester Morgue embraces both the immediate physical carnage and emotional depth of the zombie, supporting inspired gruesome set pieces and chilling atmosphere with such satisfying themes as ecological devastation and generational conflict. An overlooked gem that never received the attention of lesser European fare, this haunting and atmospheric gem focuses as much on cultural misunderstanding and greed as it does on zombies. Unique in its careful construction, intelligent story, and evocative photography, this chiller is also original in its combination of the scientific and supernatural -- although the agricultural sound waves are blamed for resurrecting the corpses, the maggoty creatures themselves perform a mystical baptismal-like ceremony, sharing their power by the mysterious (Catholic inspired) sharing of blood. This artful blend of themes and visual textures elevates an already admirable story into the realm of modern myth. Blue Underground have come through with a transfer that celebrates the film's artful compositions and rich colors, as well as its crucial sound mix, encouraging a thoughtful re-examination of its unsettling merits.

Director Jorge Grau casts a funeral shadow over the England countryside in The Living Dead at the Manchester Morgue. Contrasting the crass and over mechanized urban sprawl of city shots with such hauntingly beautiful yet eerie countryside locations as cemeteries and rolling hills seeped in shadows, he invites us to see the conflict of his characters mirrored in the differences of the land itself. Grau infuses Romero's creative template with a deeper focus on the precarious balance between the ecosystem and commercialistic necessity. This is one of the rare cases where a movie directly inspired by another hit inspired legions of others. Grau's dependence on mood, violence, and music to lend resonance to character would influence the zombie films of Lucio Fulci, Umberto Lenzi, and several other Italian spin offs. George (Ray Lovelock), a freethinking, anti-establishment art dealer hops on his motorcycle to work on his country home with friends. His bike is damaged by Edna (Christina Galbo) when he stops at a gas station. She agrees to take him to his destination but first convinces him to accompany her to her sister's home. Looking for directions from a local farmer, Edna is attacked by Guthrie, a vagrant who recently committed suicide. Of course no one believes her, and later that evening Edna's drug riddled sister Katie (Jeannine Mestre) finds her estranged husband being murdered by the living dead. Katie is promptly accused, and poor George and Edna are immediately cast as suspects by a hateful, disillusioned police chief, played by Arthur Kennedy. Ordered to stay in town, George and Edna follow the leads of a mysterious role of film to a farm where a company is testing an agricultural machine whose sonic rays promise to help crop growth by forcing insects and other low life forms to kill one another. Unfortunately, these sonic rays also wake the recently dead and evoke primal rage in babies. What began as a relaxing weekend away from urban sprawl descends into a tour through hell as George and Edna battle their way through a crypt of zombies and the unreasoning hatred of the local police . . .

Having long been darlings of independent genre cinema, the zombie as a character is not only terrifying on a purely physical level, but also a figure whose condition encourages filmmakers to inject social and political meaning into their stories. From the isolation of mass consumerism to the viciousness of action without reflection, zombie films often have much to say about what it means to be human beneath the eye gouging, organ eating, and head squashing. The mark of excellence is in how deftly such themes are dealt with -- on their sleeve to the point where they overwhelm the dynamics of good storytelling or interjected smoothly, with the cultural criticism organic to the action. The Living Dead at the Manchester Morgue is a sterling example of the later. One of the smartest and most atmospheric zombie films to have ever merged cultural criticism with the shambling dead, this tour-de-force of social prejudice, pollution, and some of the eeriest zombies seen this side of Fulci was significant as a turning point for this particularly exploitative sub-genre.

Grau's film occupies a unique position in the history of these films, serving (after Romero's Night) as a bridge between the classic cinematic image of the zombie as little more than a voodoo summoned slave (White Zombie, I Walked With A Zombie) and the blood splashed mayhem of both Romero's Dawn of the Dead (which wouldn't come until 1979) and Fulci's chaotic celebrations of flesh ripping. Grau carves out a unique identity instead of relying overly much on Romero. Combining grand guignol spectacle, stylish cinematography, and believable characters, this is as much a technical achievement as it is fine storytelling. Shooting exteriors in England and interiors in studios in Rome, a definite, horrifying sense of place is accomplished throughout. Grau's uses of sound effects and a delightfully subversive score perfectly compliment and add tension to the suspense and mounting devastation of the plot, with the guttural moans of the dead prefiguring Fulci's use of the sound in Zombie and Gates of Hell. Grau also makes photography an active participant in telling his story, utilizing shockingly realistic effects by Giannetto De Rossi and the aforementioned score to their utmost advantage.

Perhaps this symphony of fear has never received the acclaim it deserves because of a complicated release history. A victim of several name changes and alternate cuts, Manchester Morgue was released in the US as Don't Open The Window, shorn of some of De Rossi's gut munching. In the age of home video most fans were able to get their hands on either the Japanese laserdisc or UK disc. The Japanese print was particularly frustrating, censoring the streaking scene and cutting much of the urban montage. Anchor Bay rectified this blight with their 2000 disc, which restored the montage and nudity, and offered superior picture quality. In 2007 Blue Underground re-released the Anchor Bay transfer. With this new two-disc special edition, they have outdone themselves. Re-mastered from the original negative, this transfer is crisp and clean, with spot on realistic skin tones. Night scenes -- of which there are many -- are cleaned up as well. Presented anamorphic in its original 1.85:1 ratio, the colors are simply amazing, helping to create a borderland between realism and the fantastic that mirrors nuances of the plot. Audio is crucial to this film, a character itself. Three tracks honor this importance. The creeping score and zombie effects are evenly distributed in both the Dolby Surround 2.0 and 5.1 Dolby Digital Surround mixes, with the later particularly enticing, chilling in its distribution of effects. Purists can even smile, as the original Mono track is also included.

Extras are compelling and generous, documenting the movie's history and reception, Grau's aesthetic principles and beliefs, and heaps of trivia. Whereas the first Blue Underground release featured extras that focused only on the director, along with trailers and stills, this edition also covers the talents of Ray Lovelock and De Rossi, making for a much more comprehensive package. Disc One carries over extras from their first release, including radio spots, a TV Spot, and Poster and Stills Gallery. We also get an International Trail and US Trailer. The second disc is the crowning achievement here, with the only repeated feature the 2000 interview with Grau. New to the set is "Back to the Morgue," a 45 minute look at several Derbyshire locations, including the famous cemetery where Little John of Robin Hood lore is said to be buried, the site of the first zombie attack, the hospital, and many more. Grau reveals interesting trivia throughout, such as the trouble they ran into with the locals when accused of desecrating the cemetery, the behavior of actor Kennedy, his relationship with producers, and how the Italian crew insisted on cooking and eating their own pasta everyday. This is worth upgrading for alone if you really want an in-depth feel for the picture. Next is "Zombie Fighter," where Lovelock discusses his career in Italian cinema, emphasizing his role here. We learn that he and Kennedy became good friends, and, more importantly to the film, where some of the interiors were captured. The more satisfying piece is "Zombie Maker," celebrating FX man Gianetto De Rossi's work (before he became Fulci's favored gut wrangler). Among topics covered are work on Fulci's Zombie, his family history, and his earlier days in cinema. If you have an interest in European horror or zombie films in particular, this is the edition of The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue to purchase -- an indispensable celebration of a film that truly deserves it.

Review by William Simmons