Review: Shaun of the Dead (2004)

shaunofthedead.jpg

It’s rare for widely-acclaimed comedies to rely on more than one approach to their jokes. Some films, like Adam McKay and Will Ferrell’s collaborations, focus on hilarious ad-libs and absurd character antics, while the films of Jackie Chan or Buster Keaton rely on pratfalls and physical humour. Usually, films that are great at one don’t rely on, much less excel at, the other; there’s rarely a balance. And that’s what makes Edgar Wright’s Shaun of the Dead so remarkable. It not only equally contains and excels at sharp dialogue and physical comedy, but it also adds a rarely-utilized third element to the comedic mix: clever editing and montage. I don’t mean to suggest that Shaun of the Dead is a better comedy than Step Brothers or Steamboat Bill Jr., but merely to highlight how rare it is to have a comedy that takes all three approaches to its humour, and does so well. Even 16 years out, its structural editing and montage, in particular, are still something to relish.

On the surface, Shaun of the Dead blends the apocalyptic horror of George A. Romero’s zombie films with the conventions of the British romantic comedy—it was billed as the world’s first “rom zom com” upon its release. It follows the sitcom-style conflicts of ordinary Londoners, namely Shaun (Simon Pegg), his girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield), and his layabout best friend Ed (Nick Frost), but it inserts those mundane conflicts into a zombie apocalypse, in which Shaun tries to rise to the occasion to save not only Liz, but also his mother, Barbara (Penelope Wilton). 

It’s hard to overstate the appeal of the scenario itself. The film deftly shifts from rom-com conventions—heated arguments, goofy misunderstandings, and tearful reunions—to horror film conventions—characters fleeing zombie hordes and desperately trying to dispatch zombies that invade their homes. The simple appeal of a horror-comedy is in having characters who struggle with the mundane elements of life suddenly having to survive a live-and-death scenario. By adding rom-com conventions to the mix as well, Wright and Pegg (who co-wrote with Wright) amplify the absurdity of the scenario, with the mundane relationship problems juxtaposing with the apocalyptic scenario, one constantly forcing a reevaluation of the importance of the other.

But the cleverness of the concept itself only explains the film’s surface appeal. It’s the details of how Wright, Pegg, and the cast approach the material that makes the film so remarkable. For instance, the film’s witty dialogue is apparent from the opening scene, where we watch Liz and Shaun argue at the pub while Ed interjects with crude comments. Soon after, Shaun argues with Ed and their flatmate, Pete (Peter Serafinowicz), at home and we start to understand the film’s combination of dry British humour and American pop-culture references. Wright, Pegg, and Frost already established such a dynamic in their cult television series, Spaced, but Shaun of the Dead builds on the show’s approach by adding genre conventions to the mix.

The film’s brilliant pairing of understatement and crass referential comedy is at its best in scenes involving Bill Nighy’s stepfather, Philip, who epitomizes the British “stiff upper lip” with his emotionally-distant (dare I say, zombie-ish) manner of speaking. When Shaun and Ed show up at Barbara and Philip’s house to rescue them, Philip reveals a wound on his neck—as Barbara hilariously describes over the phone, Philip had had an altercation that morning with someone who was a bit “bitey.” Shaun and Ed know that Philip will turn into a zombie shortly, but dance around the matter in the dialogue, while Philip dismisses Barbara’s concerns, noting that he rinsed it in cold water, as if that solved all problems. It’s a hilarious scene, constantly shifting between a dry comedy of manners and panicked zombie scenario. The kicker is that this scene leads to a tearful confession shortly thereafter, wherein Philip tells Shaun that he simply wanted to be a good father to him, but didn’t know how to do it properly. It’s genuinely touching, which, coming after the absurdity of the earlier scenes, is remarkable.

Wright, Pegg, and company also find plenty of opportunities for physical comedy throughout the film. There are pratfalls, such as when Shaun fails to jump over a fence, and bizarre physical jokes, such as Ed’s impression of the orangutan Clyde from Every Which Way But Loose (1978). But most of the physical comedy draws on the horror scenario, as the zombie genre allows Wright to go all out with blood and guts and gore. The first instance of this comes when Shaun and Ed find a zombie woman in their backyard. They think she’s merely drunk and so when she comes forward to try to bite Shaun, they jokingly think she’s coming onto him. They fend her off, but she keeps coming, and Shaun shoves her back onto the ground, impaling her on a loose metal bar in the backyard. At the moment, they don’t know she’s a zombie, so we as viewers relish their shock at thinking they’ve killed a living woman.

This goofy approach to blood and guts escalates throughout the film, such as when Shaun and Ed learn to “Remove the head or destroy the brain” of zombies, using everything from cans of food and beer to a cricket paddle and, most memorably, vinyl records. It all reaches a pinnacle near the end of the film when Dylan Moran’s boorish David is torn apart by zombies through the windows of the pub, with the zombies tearing out his insides as he screams bloody hell. It’s a disgusting sight, but so outlandish and so obviously referencing zombie B-movies of the 1970s that it’s also hilarious.

The dialogue and the physical comedy make each moment of the film fun and memorable, but it’s the brilliant editing that pulls it altogether. As I mentioned during the intro, it’s rare for comedies to rely as much on editing and montage as Shaun of the Dead. Good comedies use the editing to establish the comedic rhythm of the dialogue, making sure there aren’t lulls in laughs, or that jokes aren’t crowding each other too much, but they rarely have as many montages or structural jokes as Shaun of the Dead.

The film uses montage during the opening credits, as it shows ordinary Londoners going about their day, detached and dispassionate as if they are already zombies. This montage and the name of the film make clear that zombies are coming. Next, after Shaun and Liz’s argument at the pub, Wright shows Shaun’s morning routine: he showers, gets ready for work, heads out the door encountering a pesky kid and a homeless man before stopping off at the convenience store to grab a snack, and then finally ends up at his retail job. Wright is establishing a pattern, and he returns to this pattern the morning after the zombie outbreak, before Shaun has realized what has happened.

We see Shaun, hungover and dejected from having broken up with Liz, heading to work and encountering the pesky kid and the homeless man. They’re now both zombies and try to get near Shaun, but he pays them no mind and continues on his way. When he goes to the convenience store, he doesn’t see the owner, but still grabs a snack as usual, before returning home before he realizes things aren’t quite right.

Wright is using the editing structure to establish patterns in the early going of the film; he is establishing the norm, which he then subverts in order to make a joke. He is using the film’s structure itself to tell the joke. There’s even a pattern to the film’s use of locations. Before the zombie outbreak, Shaun is at home, then goes to work, then goes to Liz’s apartment, and then the pub. After the apocalypse, he follows the same pattern, starting at his flat, then realizing things are not right while heading to work. Him and Ed swing by Liz’s after picking up Barbara and Philip, and then their grand plan is to head to the pub to hold down the fort until everything blows over.

Perhaps the most memorable use of montage in the film is the depiction of Shaun and Ed’s plan about how to save Barbara and Liz from the zombie apocalypse. Set to Shaun’s voiceover and consisting of a staccato rhythm of close-ups and insert shots, we see Shaun and Ed head to Barbara’s, kill Philip, save Liz, and hole up somewhere safe. In the first scenario, they come back to Shaun and Ed’s flat, but decide it’s not a safe environment. Next, they plan to stay at Liz’s, but Ed wants to be somewhere he can smoke. So they settle on the pub, where they can enjoy a pint and “wait for all this to blow over.” 

Not only does the sequence repeat images and lines of dialogue with slight variation, but it also makes subtle changes throughout, with each subsequent iteration removing unnecessary words—“Take care of Philip” becomes “Kill Phil” for instance—or shrinking each part of the sequence to its bare minimum of visual information. Thus, the sequence works as a kind of three-part joke but also as a commentary on joke construction itself. It’s an example of how clever the filmmaking of Shaun of the Dead is and how essential the editing is for the film’s beloved humour to work.

Wright would go on to further his use of montage in each of the subsequent entries in his “Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy” films starring Pegg and Frost, Hot Fuzz (2007) and The World’s End (2013), as well as 2017’s Baby Driver, which constructs its editing rhythms around the film’s deep-cut soundtrack of pop, rock, and jazz hits. But Wright’s knack for montage and editing rhythms is apparent right from his debut: Shaun of the Dead. The clever concept, the witty dialogue, and the gross out horror comedy are essential to why Shaun of the Dead has become a comedy classic over the years. But the editing is perhaps the best indicator of the film’s brilliance, as well as Wright’s signature filmmaking characteristic. Its comedic approach of structural repetition and inversion is the primary reason why the film has remained such a sturdy comedy all these years later.

9 out of 10

Shaun of the Dead (2004, UK)

Directed by Edgar Wright; written by Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright; starring Simon Pegg, Kate Ashfield, Lucy Davis, Nick Frost, Dylan Moran, Bill Nighy, Penelope Wilton.

 

Related Posts