Franchise Friday: Shaun of the Dead (2004)
This one's a slice of fried gold.
I debated whether it was appropriate to do Edgar Wright’s Cornetto trilogy for Franchise Friday. After all, it’s not really a proper franchise. There’s no shared IP (aside from the ice cream treats mentioned in each film) and no continued story.
And yet, each of Wright’s three collaborations with Simon Pegg and Nick Frost — Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz and The World’s End — have unifying features. Wright’s lightning-paced editing. The combination of hyper violence and comedy. The interplay between real-life buddies Pegg and Frost. Shared in-jokes and gags repeated from film to film. There was a certain sense in talking about these three films, because while there’s no overarching story, the creative team itself is the franchise.
Plus, I really wanted an excuse to watch these again.
Wright’s made some great films outside of the Cornetto trilogy — Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Baby Driver and Last Night in Soho are all worth a look — but these three are the works of his that I enjoy the most. They’re funny and smart genre explorations, and it’s so rare these days to have a movie’s biggest hook be its director and stars, rather than concept or recognizable characters.
So, pour yourself a pint and meet me at the Winchester. We’re going to start this week by talking Shaun of the Dead. And we will be using the zed word.
Resurrection of the Dead
Did Shaun of the Dead come out of nowhere, or was it a bit of clever timing?
Zombies might be overplayed these days, thanks to what seems like 34 seasons of The Walking Dead. But in the very early aughts, the living dead had laid fallow for a while. The last major zombie film had been either a remake of Romero’s Night of the Living Dead in 1990 or Return of the Living Dead 3 in 1993 (depending on your version of “major”). Romero’s official “Dead” series had seemingly closed with Day of the Dead in 1985; he wouldn’t resurrect the franchise until Land of the Dead in 2005.
But something was in the air in the first years of the new millennium, likely spurred on 9/11 anxiety and the tribalism that appeared in its wake. It’s also possible that social media, even in its infancy, created the atmosphere in which fast-moving zombies could be a metaphor for rage and a mob mentality. Whatever it was, the zombie subgenre lurched back to life in 2002 with Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later, followed shortly after by Robert Kirkman’s The Walking Dead comic series in 2003 and Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead Remake in 2004. Suddenly, pop culture had zombies on the brain (mmm….brains).
Shaun of the Dead was the last entry in this first wave, releasing in September 2004, just a few months after Snyder’s remake. It was tempting, at the time, to think this might have been a quick and clever exploitation of a fad, but Shaun had been in the works for years. In his fantastic book You’ve Got Red on You, Clark Collis interviews everyone involved with the making of the film, which had its roots not in any of the aforementioned new zombie movies but in a deep love for Romero’s original films and a desire to expand on an episode of Wright and Pegg’s TV show Spaced. In fact, it was during the writing of Shaun of the Dead (originally titled Tea Time of the Dead) that Wright and company discovered that Boyle was exploring his own take on the zombie mythology and Snyder was finishing his own remake of Romero’s classic; they worried it might put Shaun out of business, but were confident their humorous approach would help them stand apart.
And Shaun of the Dead doesn’t feel anything like the other zombie films released during that period. It doesn’t have the fast-moving zombies of either film (technically, Boyle’s monsters are not zombies but virus-infected humans). And while Dawn of the Dead boasts some clever satire and witty one-liners courtesy of writer James Gunn, Shaun is an actual out-and-out comedy, filled with quotable dialogue, wonderful visual gags and a real sense of heart. It just so happens that this self-described “romantic comedy with zombies” is a better zombie film than either of those movies (and any released since, to be honest).
Shaun of the Dead is widely beloved now; even casual filmgoers likely know of it. But when I saw it opening night in the States in 2005, spurred on by news on geek-friendly websites like Ain’t It Cool News, I felt like I’d discovered something wonderful, made just for me. This little scrappy British film, starring a cast I’d never seen before and helmed by a director making his feature debut, was one of my very favorite movies of the year, and I became evangelical about it, dragging friends to see it and telling everyone they had to pay attention to this brand-new talent.
Rise of the Cornettoverse
Of course, while Shaun of the Dead might be Wright and Pegg’s first major film, the only reason I hadn’t heard of them was because I live in the States. In the UK, they were already gaining popularity. Pegg had been climbing the ladder as a comedian and actor for several years, and Wright was a television director known for his unique, cinematic approach. The duo then collaborated (along with Pegg’s best friend, Frost) on the television show Spaced, a hangout sitcom that often employed cinematic technique when celebrating film and pop culture (the best thing I can compare Spaced to is a proto-Community).
So, there’s a reason that Shaun of the Dead comes out of the gate with such confidence; it’s the next logical step in a fast-moving career. But nearly two decades after its release, the film still impresses. It’s not “good for a first film;” it’s one of the best combinations of horror and comedy ever, and it set the bar high for an artist who has continued to evolve and challenge himself.
The original idea for Shaun of the Dead was simple: a zombie movie that took place in England during the timeline for Romero’s films (Wright and Pegg were adamant that their zombies should shamble and fast zombies aren’t scary; views I agree with). But the story morphed into something more akin to the films that Focus Features and Working Title were putting out: a British romantic comedy that just happens to feature gut-munching walkers.
Shaun (Pegg) is a layabout who would rather hang out at the local pub, The Winchester, with his slothful, weed-peddling best friend Ed (Frost) than take his girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield) out to a nice dinner. When he botches one too many plans, Liz breaks up with Shaun. The same day his world falls apart, the rest of the world does, too, as the dead begin rising and feasting on the living. Shaun has to get his act together, save Liz (and his mum), and find a way to get to the safety of The Winchester, where they can “have a pint and wait for the whole thing to blow over.”
Shaun of the Dead had the good fortune to release during the resurgence of the zombie subgenre, but also during the rise of slacker-do-well films put out by the likes of Kevin Smith and the Frat Pack, as it was then known (Judd Apatow’s directorial debut, The 40-Year-Old Virgin, would hit the next summer). Here, Shaun also stands out. Rather than a raunchy, crass comedy, it’s a charming rom-com with actual heart, anchoring its emotion not only in the at-risk relationship between Shaun and Liz, but in the dysfunctional buddiedom between Shaun and Ed.
We’ll get to the deft script by Wright and Pegg, as well as the zombie action, in a bit. But it’s worth noting that for all its high-concept comedy, Shaun of the Dead works most successfully as a buddy comedy. There’s a reason why the Cornetto trilogy (its name comes from the ice cream snacks featured briefly in each film) centered itself on characters played by Pegg and Frost; there’s a real-life camaraderie and affection the two have replicates itself so well on screen. Ed’s a jackass; he’s crude, slovenly and doesn’t much care for anyone other than Shaun. But he does love Shaun. The two are funny together, and Ed provides a cathartic, if juvenile, release valve for his best friend, who is miserable at his job, clueless at love, and harangued by his stepfather (Bill Nighy). The real-life friendship gives the onscreen one energy and wit, and the moments where Shaun breaks down laughing at something Ed says feels genuine (oddly enough, the Pegg-Frost vehicles not directed by Wright, such as Paul, fall flat, suggesting that maybe this real-life duo works best as a creative trio).
Shaun was pitched as a “rom-zom-com,” and for years I had thought the romantic comedy portion was the weakest part of the film. But there’s a sweetness between Pegg and Ashfield that is charming; she’s empathetic as a woman who’s stuck with a sweet man who has no intention of growing up, and Pegg ably creates Shaun as a man bored by the possibility of maturity but who really has found something worth holding onto in Liz. As Shaun takes more of an active stance throughout the film, Ashfield plays Liz as impressed, but not swooning. Even in the end, when they’re cozied together on the couch, there’s a casual friendliness that is much cuter than the doe-eyed romance we normally see in romantic comedies.
The rest of the troupe is solid. At the time of the film’s release, Lucy Davis was the only familiar face for me (she had played Dawn, the proto-Pam, on the UK version of The Office). Her Diane is a quirky, ditzy actress, and walks away with some funny lines. Dylan Moran combines daft prickishness well as David, who can’t stand Shawn and pines for Liz. Nighy and Penelope Wilton are equally intimidating, funny and heartbreaking as Shaun’s parents. Wright would go on to direct films whose ambitions required a large amount of meticulousness and pre-planning; his camerawork and visual wit are often what carry the jokes. Shaun of the Dead still has room to focus on the characters at the film’s center and let their interactions carry the bulk of the comedy.
The Wright stuff
That said, Shaun of the Dead announced Wright as a fresh, new genre voice, and it’s no surprise that he quickly became embraced by some of Hollywood’s most revered filmmakers, including Quentin Tarantino. With this feature debut, Wright’s voice is almost fully formed, and the style that continue to make him such an intriguing director were already on display.
Take the famous tracking shot that appears twice early in the film. The first time, Shaun goes about his day-to-day routine, walking from his flat to the corner store, paying vague attention to the little details going around him. The second time, he follows the same route, unaware of the gruesome aftermath of a zombie rampage around him (a quick slip on unseen blood and a red handprint on a freezer door are great grace notes). The tracking shots, which Wright filmed on the first day, are great reminders how few comedy directors place an emphasis on visual gags, and Wright came out of the gate as one of the best. His timing is exquisite throughout, and there are often times when quick edits or fleeting shots are just as funny as anything in the dialogue. A fight scene where Shaun, Liz and Ed take on a horde of zombies in a bar, backed up by Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now,” is a wonderful foreshadowing of the playfulness and work with rhythm Wright would eventually use as the centerpiece for Baby Driver.
But the comedy never overwhelms or undercuts the horror, and Shaun of the Dead works as a genuine zombie movie. It’s not a parody; it’s a zombie movie that simply unfolds inside a romantic comedy. The zombies are gross and bloody, seen munching on guts or chewing on necks. When the film settles into the Winchester for its final act, the tension ramps up and there are moments of effective terror and pathos, including the standoff when it’s discovered Shaun’s mom has bitten and the final siege of zombies into the bar, which mixes gory horror and fast-paced action without sacrificing the wit and energy of the jokes. Wright ensures that the film’s climax, in which is seems likely that none of the heroes will escape, is suspenseful and emotionally cathartic; likewise, the film’s final shot, of Shaun and a zombiefied Ed playing videogames in the shed, hits not as a gag, but as a sweet final moment for the film’s most affecting relationship. And all the way, Wright and Pegg ladle on their knowledge of and love for zombie cinema, including a bevy of Easter Eggs, including the line “we’re coming to get you, Barabara” to naming the store where Shaun works at Foree Electric after Ken Foree, the star of Dawn of the Dead.
Shaun of the Dead is packed with details from its first scene, which includes cleverly edite banter between Shaun, Ed and Liz. An early discussion between Shaun and Ed brilliantly foreshadows the entire plot of the film in a way that can’t be properly understood until at least the second or third viewing. The film’s laughs still deliver and the scares still hold, and the chemistry between Pegg and Frost remains some of the most potent in comedy history.
Shaun of the Dead is still an over-achieving bit of slacker cinema, a great comedy and a great zombie movie. And it’s hard to believe the next collaboration between Wright, Pegg and Frost would be even better.