Following the continuity of his earlier films, Land of the Dead's post-apocalyptic tale devolves into a second-string Mad Max as it follows a team of commandos, led by a clean-cut Simon Baker, who guard a highly protected city of the living from the undead. The ruling class lives in a luxury high-rise called Fiddler's Green, which could be the ultimate gated community.
Romero's script relies on some silly plot points. Since global civilization has essentially fallen, why do Dennis Hopper's sinister plutocrat and John Leguizamo's hair-trigger scavenger still value paper currency? When Leguizamo blackmails Hopper, it's like the scene in Austin Powers when Dr. Evil demands a paltry "1 million dollars!"
Romero's sociopolitical themes remain intact. Eugene Clark (in a performance as weirdly poignant as Boris Karloff in Frankenstein) plays a semi-intelligent, "sensitive" zombie who teaches his mindless brethren to band together, use weapons and attack Fiddler's Green. Land of the Dead becomes a kind of parable for how education can empower the have-nots to rise against the haves. And then eat them.
Land of the Dead doesn't match the technical invention and intensity of the new wave of zombie flicks, like 28 Days Later, Shaun of the Dead and even the Dawn of the Dead remake. Romero offers some likable character moments and a few powerful images, including a zombie army rising out of a river. But instead of quality action scenes, he accentuates the sheer, stomach-churning quantity of gore effects. George A. Romero's Land of the Dead won't win any new fans of the zombie genre, but the copious amounts of chewed flesh and stringy tendons may turn unsuspecting audiences into vegetarians.
Opens Fri., June 24.
