Thursday, Apr. 09, 2009

'Hard Rock Zombies' wallows in weird

By Edward Robertson, atomictown.com

In certain corners of the Internet, ferocious debate rages as to what makes a “real” zombie.

Purists demand they be brainless, slow-moving, flesh-starved, etc., a ludicrously rigid code that’s led to a jillion imagination-free Romero knockoffs since Night of the Living Dead. I take a looser definition of what makes a zombie, because without the freedom to experiment, we would never be given such classics as 1985’s Hard Rock Zombies.

Being killed by Hitler and his family is only the start of rocker E.J. Curse’s problems. When he and his band are brought back as zombies by an ancient bass riff, their terrible revenge sets off an undead plague that threatens to wipe out the entire town of Grand Guignol.

On a scale of one to a not-boring Citizen Kane, how great does that sound? Too great for any movie to live up to? Yet Hard Rock Zombies is much more than an empty premise.

Within the first three minutes we have skinny dipping, dancing midgets and murder. None of it makes any sense whatsoever (it’s been a while since I drowned anyone, but I don’t remember it being half that bloody), but any lingering questions are quickly obliterated by an onslaught of bad taste like burnt garbage.

The yokels of Grand Guignol get up in arms over the arrival of a hard-partying, street-dancing rock band in their midst, and director/co-writer Krishna Shah seems to be intent on proving the prudish hicks are right.

As Hitler's grandchildren argue with him over their right to watch their grandparents crease the sheets, Curse is across town falling madly, awful-song-writingly in love with an obviously underaged girl. Then again, with her pushbroom eyebrows and a haircut like Daniel Boone in silhouette, the real crime would be not nailing her like a Roman criminal.

If it’s supremely stupid, it’s also legitimately hilarious. Shah’s direction is clumsy, mixed-up and loaded with doofery — I think the first 90 unnecessary cuts to the lady dancer were sufficient, thank you — but he’s got a deep streak of anarchy and an offbeat talent too. When the cryptonazi midget zombie eats himself for supper, it’s impossible to deny we’re watching the product of some sort of genius.

Very bad in many ways, Hard Rock Zombies stands as proof that all it takes to transmute offensive rubbish into shining gold is a sense of humor, a willingness to be weird, and maybe a werewolf or two. Yes, it has those too. Enjoy.