A Quick and Painful Death: Critically examining how the fast zombie reflects fears and prejudices within societies
- Joe Carrick-Lawson
- Jan 23, 2024
- 16 min read
Figure 1: Zombies sprinting after the survivors in Zac Synder's Dawn of the Dead (Brayton, 2021)
The zombie has always been used to represent the contemporary fears of its audience. Regardless of its iteration, from the possessed, sleep-walking state in White Zombie (Halperin, 1932) or I Walked with a Zombie (Tourneur, 1943), to the decomposing, cannibalistic ghouls popularised in Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968) and Dawn of the Dead (1978), a few key definitions remain consistent. Firstly, a zombie is a reanimated corpse. Secondly, they often lack humanity with an inability to speak or emote effectively. As Nick Muntean and Matthew Thomas Payne discuss, ‘the zombie’s blank, dead visage provides an allegorical screen upon which audiences can project their fears and anxieties. Unlike most cinematic antagonists that radiate an unambiguous and idiosyncratic persona, the zombie horde is a monstrous tabula rasa’ (2009: 240). Whereas they particularly reflected fears around a loss of identity (particularly from foreign cultures) in the inter-war years and the Second World War, and fears of consumerism and the military in the 70s, during the 21st century fears were altered to reflect a more tangible, destructive, and noticeably real danger.
The 21st century has been notable for its change in society resulting from terrorism, pandemics, and political discourse. Particularly, the September 11 attacks in 2001 created a shift in people’s perceptions of the world. Due to its large-scale destruction and loss of lives, one of the locations being the densely populated New York City, and the widespread media coverage, many people witnessed or felt involved in the event. Seeing this real-life horror altered how people felt in their lives, and how audiences felt watching films after. Therefore, as Muntean and Payne state: ‘In a culture suffused with a heightened sense of imminent terror and incalculable dread, meaningful fictional monsters must not only respond to the form of the prevailing cultural anxiety, they must also equal or transcend the depth of its possible horror’ (2009: 244-245). Zombie films evolved to show the monsters as more of a threat. Particularly, zombies were made to be fast and determined, unlike the more common slow-moving counterparts. Although fast zombies are not an invention of post-9/11 cinema (the first example is cited as Nightmare City from 1980), the use of them in apocalyptic scenarios in a genre hybrid of horror and action is most notable in the 21st century. In this period, subtextual connotations and terrorist iconography is used to anchor the terrifying feelings about the world with the fictious threats. This essay will explore this new iteration and its connotations to the fear of other, fear of death, and the fear of American society.
Zombies as a Fear of Others
One of the most prevalent differences between slow and fast zombies is their humanisation. Most slow zombies are seen to be ghoulish, decomposing corpses that, despite retaining the appearance of people, are dead and operating on instinct. Their mannerisms, being an unbalanced and disordered hobble, shows that they do not retain much consciousness after death. On the contrary, fast zombies, although also being dead and instinctual, appear to be more human as they can run and attack with perceived determination. This is notable in the discussion about whether 28 Days Later (Boyle, 2002) is a zombie film. Technically, the infected in 28 are not zombies, they are people with a rage virus that inhibits intelligence and results in primal anger. The infected are still alive and their biological functions operate normally. However, they act similar to fast zombies shown in films such as Dawn of the Dead (Synder, 2004), [REC] (Balagueró, 2007), and World War Z (Forster, 2013). By association, the zombies in these films are seen to be more human and more conscious than its slow counterparts. They are less like an infected corpse, and more like a person with an infected mind.
This perceived humanity makes them an “Other”. Robin Wood defines this as a bourgeois ideology of something that is unrecognizable but should be repressed. He states that society ‘must deal with [it] in one of two ways: either by rejecting and if possible annihilating it, or by rendering it safe and assimilating it’ (2003: 65-66). Regardless of what the “Other” is, the hegemony fears that ‘they ‘‘hate freedom,’’ they ‘‘want to destroy our way of life,’’ [and] they will destroy us because we ‘‘stand in their way’’’ (Muntean and Payne, 2009: 255). The extreme and dangerous examples of this in a fictional context is the zombie. However, the modern zombie also signifies the most extreme real-life example: the terrorist. Both result in a scenario where life as we know it changes, and the retaliation from society is attempted annihilation or to create safety.
Death to a slow zombie is due to accident and hubris, an ambling corpse is not a dangerous threat by itself. Therefore, the blame is given to the survivor. Death to a fast zombie is the reverse. They are seen to have capabilities, a purpose, and a mentality better trained for murder, so death becomes unfair. The survivors are citizens who do not deserve their fate, they just failed to fight or run. In 2004’s Dawn of the Dead, Andy (Bruce Bohne), a gun shop owner located opposite the mall, is a tragic character whose death was undeserving. After being alone and slowly starving, the group from the mall send supplies via a dog named Chips, who is not a target for the zombies. However, after Chips enters through a dog door, a zombie follows him in. This not only suggests some intelligence from the zombies, who otherwise would have disregarded the dog and its path completely, but also makes Andy’s subsequent death worse. It was not his fault, unlike the over-confidence and disregard of characters such as Roger in the 1978 Dawn, Rhodes in Day of the Dead (Romero, 1985), or David in Shaun of the Dead (Wright, 2004). Instead, the zombie is the devious villain. These zombies appear as other people devoid of humanity, with a desire to kill. There is no sympathy or justifications for the terrorist, metaphorical or not.
Particularly, the fears created about these threats is that they are distrustful and envious. As Muntean and Payne explain: ‘zombies are the domestic terrorists within one’s own private and public borders; they are your neighbors, coworkers, and family members’ (2009: 246-247). This relates them to “sleeper-cell” terrorists, those who have assimilated anywhere in society, but will rebel against it when an order is received. Also, as Muntean and Payne further state: ‘The label of ‘‘terrorist’’ possesses an ontological blankness […] whose inner motivations remain hidden from view’ (2009: 255). This is similar to that of the zombie. By giving the zombie humanity through its physical capabilities, it implies these creatures may also have more agenda than just an animalistic instinct for food.
Furthermore, the idea that zombies represent terrorists links to the idea of the apocalypse as a war on terror. Kevin J. Wetmore explains: ‘It is a war declared on a tactic, not a particular group, nation or individual. Anyone can use terror. Success can only be measured, therefore, by how well the terror has been eliminated, or by how well terrorist attacks are prevented. In other words, the only measure of success is a negative: nothing has happened (yet). One is left, however, in a state of fear, as the terrorist can attack at any point in the future’ (Wetmore, 2012: 163-164). This is evident by the zombies, as they are not a nation or defined group, they are the “other” who have a tactic to kill. It is also an unwinnable war, as films rarely show all the zombies being eradicated, instead it is either a pessimistic ending, or the survivors celebrate a solitary victory, but their future fates are left unknown. The fear always remains though, even in moments of safety. For example, in Zombieland (Fleischer, 2009) the group seek refuge in what they believe to be the abandoned home of Bill Murray. Colombus (Jesse Eisenberg) relaxes by watching Ghostbusters (Reitman, 1984), which stars Murray, in the home cinema. However, when a zombie Bill Murray (as himself) walks in, Colombus grabs his gun and shoots without hesitation, showing he was always on edge despite the safety and entertainment. It is then revealed Bill Murray was not a zombie but was using a disguise. This further emphasis Columbus’ lack of rumination and heightened anxiety. With the zombies being fast-moving, there is no time for deliberation, making the threat, and the terror it creates, more severe.
The implication of terrorism also connotes a jealousy of the life they can either no longer (or could never) enjoy. Despite zombies not having consciousness, the themes presented creates this idea. As Jeffery Sconce suggests, which can apply to both iterations of Dawn, the mall is a metaphor for the West’s capitalist utopia, one which is ‘protected by brute force, foolishly hoping to hold off an advancing army of second- and third-world marauders who want […] a taste of the good life’ (2014: 97). The zombies (and terrorists) want to kill those who have the luxury of living life flippantly with access to a multitude of goods: playing golf on the roof, trying on fancy clothes, vandalising property, having perverse sex, and killing zombies for sport. Even with this, the survivors eventually become bored of having everything, and their apathy results in them trying to leave the relative safety for an unknown island, which results in the zombies slaughtering them all on their journey. The fast-paced and violent deaths are therefore indictive of a warning to those who take what the West provides for granted.
Zombies as the Fear of Death
This more brutal death due to fast zombies is another underlying fear of these films. As a species, a fear of what could kill us, and what the afterlife may have, drives our decision-making. However, it is also an inevitable outcome. Although the slow zombie represents the steady but ever-approaching fear of death, the fast zombie encapsulates the fear of death made apparent through terrorism and disease: a sudden one. Peter Dendle discusses this as being similar to the threat of nuclear annihilation during the Cold War. However, this was a foreign and remote threat. ‘Those impersonal and distant dangers are still as real as ever, following 9/11, but rather than a single, obliterating strike, the danger now is of dirty nuclear weapons, chemical poisons, or biohazard attacks, that could be localised anywhere’ (2011: 185-186). These deadly outcomes can happen quickly and without warning. In the case of a terrorist bomb, that could be hiding on any street, one’s death may occur before they even have a chance to realise what is transpiring. The fast zombie represents this sudden, unexpected, and undignified death. As John Vervaeke et Al. clarify: ‘It is the culmination of unhallowed endings […] gone is the dignified finality of nuclear twilight […] The ending is not punctuated by informed irony or moralism. It is simply the end’ (2017: 30). Death is scary on its own, but a death that is quick and unjust, without time to reflect and say goodbye, is worse.
Aside from terrorism, global pandemics have also been a consistent, widespread, and discernible fear throughout human history. Although, as Roger Luckhurst explore, in the 21st century disease has become a ‘reflexive modernity – that is, a risk that is created and amplified by modernity itself, by the interconnectedness of global transport and communication networks’ (2015: 179). Examples include the ongoing HIV/AIDS pandemic which started in the 1980s, the 2002 to 2004 SARS outbreak, the 2009 swine flu pandemic, and the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic which started in 2019 (Crawford, 2021). Zombies are monsters closely associated with disease, as it is often a bacterial or viral infection that causes the zombification. Similar to HIV, the zombie infection is also often bloodborne, being transmitted through bite wounds. Fast zombies enhance this idea by emphasising the speed at which diseases can spread, especially to a worldwide “apocalyptic” scenario. In World War Z (Forster, 2013), this global escalation is the focal point of the film. It follows Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt), a UN investigator tasked with finding the cause of the infection, and a vaccine for it, by travelling across the world. Throughout its various locations, it is apparent how widespread the infection is, starting in South Korea before being shown to have been transmitted to the USA, Israel, and Wales. This is accentuated by the map in the command room of the US Aircraft Carrier where Lane was dispatched from. It shows areas quickly becoming red, and a death toll which exponentially increases into the billions.
Aside from literal death, zombies also represent a metaphorical death of oneself. Due to zombies being reanimated corpses of people, characters that have been infected who die are subsequently shown to be zombified. As Wetmore discusses: ‘Zombification represents a loss of the self, a loss of social self and a loss of all relationships that existed with that person’ (2012: 160). This is demonstrated in the opening scenes of 2004’s Dawn, where Ana (Sarah Polley) and her husband Luis (Louis Ferreira) are attacked in their home, resulting in Luis’ death. He then quickly reanimates and starts attacking Ana, with no emotion or recollection, only aiming to fulfil a new purpose of unprejudiced murder. By making the zombified version fast, its makes Luis, as well as other examples, appear to be without injury, and thus suggests he is acting normally, which makes it harder for other characters to realise they are undead, or justify hurting or killing them. This makes the emotional consequences stronger than a slow-moving loved one who is more noticeably deceased.
Furthermore, this acts as a metaphor for radicalisation. Wetmore notes that zombies ‘cannot be reasoned with, cannot be negotiated with,’ and ‘they seek only to replicate themselves’ (2012: 160). This could connote the notion of radicalisation, another fear engrained in Western society, notably by communists or al-Qaeda. In both the real and fictious examples, exposure to the enemy force leads to a conversion into one of them, a change which is seen as a ‘zero-sum game: once you go zombie, you can’t come back’ (Sconce, 2014: 99). Therefore, each loss the “citizens” suffer brings the country closer to a downfall. The enemy group is also portrayed as indoctrinating those into being physical stronger, uncompassionate, and willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause. Therefore, by making people turn from being average to more athletic and violent, rather than more apathetic and slower, it implies the zombies are a terrorist militia.
Zombies as a Fear of American Society
Despite these fears of terrorism being prevalent (especially following 9/11), these external threats were not the only concerns citizens have in the 21st century ensuing the attacks. Internal organisations, especially those with power and whose duty is to protect and inform, became questionable due to their lacklustre responses to the disaster, and their involvement in incidents in the decades after. This is a fear of America itself, with the fast zombies and the apocalypse being ‘an allegory of neo-liberal globalisation’ (Luckhurst, 2015: 183). The states influence in society has become a threat for many. If zombie films were only indicative of the zombies as terrorist against the USA, then the films would be more pro-USA, and thus the survivors would win. However, the films are often pessimistic, with the government, military, and media portrayed in a negative way.
In this regard, the fears society holds, and the fears zombies connote, are not solely indicative of terrorists and other foreign invaders. When zombies invade, only the first few may be from outside the border, instead the overwhelming majority haunting the empty streets are the citizens who were not saved. The envious ‘second- and third-world marauders’ (Sconce, 2014: 97) are not foreign invaders, but those not rich enough to afford safety, provisions, and power. The radicalised are citizens whose government and state-controlled organisations could not provide the things they deemed important for their livelihood. The untrustworthy are the politicians, military, and media who failed to provide (or purposefully lied about) the services they were meant to supply to give its citizens peace of mind and security. As Wetmore discusses, these are fears echoed by the failures shown during the September 11 attacks. ‘Government officials were never seen, but only reported on fleeting words conveyed quickly as individuals moved to ‘unnamed locations’ in order to secure their safety […] Only national media figures were giving information, and mostly that was conjecture and expert hearsay’ (2012: 43). It is evident in the films that this is the same in zombie apocalypses. Politicians and governmental locations are rarely seen or heard from. In examples where locations are seen, such as the White House in Zombieland: Double Tap (Fleischer, 2019), the area has fallen into disrepair with limited signs of defences being made. The status of the president during the outbreak is unknown. As Colombus clarifies in the first film, without such people the country has instead become “the United States of Zombieland”. In both the fictional and real scenarios, those that were relied on for assistance and reassurance panicked and prioritized their own safety, abandoning their citizens who remained.
The military is another sociopolitical apparatus shown to be ineffective. In 2004’s Dawn, the survivors adorn the mall rooftop with painted signs stating “SOS” and “Help! Alive inside”. Upon spotting a military helicopter they gather and start waving and shouting. However, it ignores them, and no signs of the military are seen again. The survivors actions can also be viewed as echoing the military’s actions following 9/11. After Chips the dog is followed by zombies into Andy’s gun shop, Nicole (Lindy Booth), very fond of the dog, rushes to save him. She then gets stuck herself, and a group of other survivors must rescue her. This mission results in the death of one of the group: Tucker (Boyd Banks). Wetmore discusses the similarities to Iraq: ‘By panicking after 9/11, and by choosing to attack a nation that was not a genuine threat, America perhaps placed itself in greater danger and made a situation that was bad but contained, even worse’ (2012: 163). Even in films with an optimistic ending, such as in World War Z (Forster, 2013) in which a vaccine is discovered to deter the infected, the government and the military are still immoral. In the film, Lane is only given refuge aboard a military carrier along with his family on the promise that he risks his life to discover the truth behind the infection. Lane reluctantly accepts as the military state only important people get refuge. However, after Gerry’s suspected death during a plane crash, within a day his family are evicted from the carrier as they no longer have a use as leverage. The USA and its military are therefore depicted as only valuing the elite and leaving the rest to suffer. The distrust in these systems is similar to the links between the terrorist and the zombie; it is a warning for those that put their faith in the West.
The news media is another aspect of society that is criticized. As Wetmore explains: ‘As on 9/11, [zombie films show] a mediated crisis. The survivors know what they know solely from television, even if what the television is telling them differs from their own perspectives’ (2012: 163). However, this leads to conflicting reports as the journalists are unaware of the situation too. This is demonstrated in [REC] (and the American remake, Quarantine (Dowdle, 2008)) where local reporters follow firefighters on a call and get trapped in an infected apartment. Reminiscent of the documentary 9/11 (Naudet et Al., 2002), in which real filmmakers follow firefighters as they respond to the attacks, the films have a key theme which is ‘the capturing and communication of the ‘truth’ through the media’ (Abbott, 2016: 79). However, this creates the moral dilemmas about whether this tragedy should be filmed. This portrays the eager reporter as self-centred as they unwilling impede and annoy the firefighters and residents through questioning and entering forbidden locations. The fast zombies provide a violent and dangerous threat to emphasis the stupidity of these reporters who trivialise it through interviews and recordings of murder. Furthermore, the end is pessimistic, as the journalists enter an attic looking for the “truth”, only to be killed as their abandoned camera is still recording. This implies the footage was never found, and their actions were in vain.
However, in the modern era, journalists are not the only source of news. Globalisation means everyone can be exposed to anything. This includes infection, but also ideology, as social media allows for a fast spread of information. However, as Emma Dyson discusses, this accessibility becomes ‘a thematic signifier in extolling the ‘democracy’ of information’ (2014: 141). This means that misinformation, fake news, and the inciting of hate has been prevalent online and has consequences. For example, in 2020 and 2021, the US president Donald Trump used his platform to spread misinformation about rigged votes, and to encourage the Capitol Riots. In this way, the US’s democracy, safety, and lives were not threatened by a foreign invader, but by its own leader and citizens who quickly took arms and descended in Washington DC without much thought of the consequences. This included the death of five people (Evelyn, 2021). In many respects, this is a more noticeable threat of radicalisation affecting society than the “war on terror” or fears of terrorist organisation. The fast zombies, in this regard, are representative of this speed of globalisation and misinformation that can result in such events.
Conclusion
Overall, the fast zombie has evolved to signify a myriad of new fears and prejudices throughout society. As Vervaeke et Al. state: ‘the appearance of these zombie symbols is approximately co-emergent with the West’s dawning cultural awareness of a worldview crisis, and that there are sufficient correlations between the traits of the zombie and the symptomology of the crisis to demonstrate this linkage reliably’ (2017: 5). The West has become more aware of many threats. This is both from terrorism and the fears of radicalization, death, and the war on terror that arises from it, and the growing distrust in the government, military, and media who fail to support and protect its citizens. The fast zombies, with their perceived humanity, violent attacks, and apocalyptic scenarios, provide a modern version of a fictional monster on to which these concerns can be demonstrated.
Bibliography
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Filmography
9/11 (Jules Naudet, Gédéon Naudet, and James Hanlon, 2002)
28 Days Later (Danny Boyle, 2002)
Dawn of the Dead (George A. Romero, 1978)
Dawn of the Dead (Zack Synder, 2004)
Day of the Dead (George A. Romero, 1985)
Ghostbusters (Ivan Reitman, 1984)
I Walked with a Zombie (Jacques Tourneur, 1943)
Night of the Living Dead (George A. Romero, 1968)
Nightmare City (Umberto Lenzi, 1980)
Quarantine (John Erick Dowdle, 2008)
[REC] (Jaume Balagueró, 2007)
Shaun of the Dead (Edgar Wright, 2004)
White Zombie (Victor Halperin, 1932)
World War Z (Marc Forster, 2013)
Zombieland (Ruben Fleischer, 2009)
Zombieland: Double Tap (Ruben Fleischer, 2019)
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