Movie Review: One Cut Of The Dead

Zombie films are always social commentary. The original Night of the Living Dead is a story of small-town racism and paranoia.

One Cut Of The Dead is - if you'll pardon the pun - a cut above the rest of the zombie flicks. It asks some deep questions about cinema and the role of the audience. Are we morally culpable for the actions that occur on-screen? Without us, there is no bloodshed. Without our insatiable desire for more blood, more gore, more torture - there is no pain and suffering.

And what's the camera's role in all this? We willingly suspend our disbelief that there's a magic window into this world that none of the characters can see. It's like we're the one hungering for brains and the poor cameraman is merely our fungus-driven avatar.

The first act of One Cut is stunning. There's no other way to describe its audacity. It's a schlocky splatter-fest which, as the name suggests, is filmed in a single take. It plays on every trope in the bloody genre, it pillages every classic scene from Blair Witch to Zombieland, and it drenches every cast member in gallons of blood.

Yes, it is low-budget ($25,000!) but it takes a lot of skill and effort to make things look so cheap and tawdry and exciting.

I don't want to spoil the rest of the film, but it will leave your head spinning off its axis. It's the sort of film that's done backwards and in high-heels.