DEADGIRL
Produced & Directed by Marcel Sarmiento & Gadi Harel
Written by Trent Haaga
Released by Dark Sky Films
USA. 101 min. Rated R
With Shiloh Fernandez, Noah Segan, Michael Bowen & Candice Accola
 

The strength of Deadgirl is almost entirely in its premise: investigating an abandoned mental hospital, two high school kids come across a stunningly beautiful, naked, undead woman, chained to a table. At one point J.T., the more adventurous of the two, reaches a hand towards her and fingers her crotch. She reacts with unmistakable pleasure. J.T. comments, “It’s kind of fucked up, right?” He says it in a way that assumes you’ll want to see more. This is, after all, a horror movie.

More specifically, Deadgirl is a zombie-rape movie. At various points, it threatens to become a movie about misogyny or gender roles, but instead it spends most of its running time racked with guilt over the fact that it is a zombie-rape movie. One might even describe it as the Hamlet of zombie-rape movies—that is, if there were any other zombie-rape movies to compare it to.

The first 20 minutes ooze with queasy adolescent sexuality and not a little social commentary. (One of the kids raves, “She’s like something out of a magazine.”) Brick’s Noah Segan, as J.T., is a particular standout, doing all he can to point up the dark side of male camaraderie, but things peter out once the film leaves the basement. The usual stock high-school characters show up in force. Even more off-putting is the sheer volume of dewy-eyed longing present in what is, once again, a zombie-rape movie. One of the boys, hangdog Rickie (Shiloh Fernandez), has a case of puppy love for the popular JoAnn (Candice Accola) that should be familiar to anyone who's seen Sixteen Candles. Horror movies are usually distinguished by a complete lack of sentiment, so it’s bewildering to see this one cribbing from John Hughes.

As a result, while there’s a fair amount of dread to go around, there isn't much in the way of thrills. This particular zombie inspires more brooding indecision than the adrenaline jolts of her recent cousins or the existential dread of Grandpa George Romero. Then again, Romero’s brain-seekers would never let their captors off so easily. And he would never let a zombie flick find itself more concerned with teenage virginity than human survival.

Listen close and you can hear him heckling from the back row. Russell Brandom
July 24, 2009