George Romero

All posts tagged George Romero

Art Movie

Published December 18, 2012 by Sandee

(Warning:  Adult content.  Also, as Gfb always says, pointless.)

Karen Cooper eating her father

There’s a sensationalistic sound-effect in The Night of the Living Dead that’s louder than the sound of the rest of the movie — the part when the zombie eats the bug off the tree and when the zombies eat the dead people, pulling flesh off of the bone with their teeth.

George Romero amps up the slurpy, chewing sound —  a great grade b horror movie gross-out effect.  He blots out all other sound in the movie and puts emphasis on this.  You hear zombies grind up every bit of bug and chew every sinew in all its juicy goodness.

I thought of something they might have used to make this particular sound.

When I was a teenager – a friend said she heard a man masturbating in the staircase.  I said, “How do you hear someone masturbate?”  She began making rhythmic slurpy chewing sounds with her mouth.  It was hilarious!

Wouldn’t it be rad, a big fat joke on the audience, if I made a zombie movie and had sound effects from an unorthodox source, let’s say like the one my friend talked about and maybe also the female version, or any variation or combination (wink, wink) on that?

We’d have people in the studio masturbating with the mike right there.  In my movie, The Zombies of Sandor, the zombie-eating sound-effects would all be from masturbation and stuff.

It’d be…like an art movie!  The sound effect of somebody getting slapped in the face would actually come from somebody in the studio getting slapped in the face with a penis.

Oh why Sandee couldn’t you just use someone actually chewing into a microphone for the eating sound effect?  Be-cause, I say, just be-cause.

Two words: hanta virus

Published October 18, 2012 by Sandee

I’ve scheduled my reading for 10/27, 10:30pm at the Indian Road Café.  I’ll read for half an hour.  Afterward they’re screening Night of the Living Dead.  That’s crazy because I had no idea they’d be showing this movie and it’s one of my favorites – I know the whole script.  Two great lines from it:

“They’re coming to get you Bar-ba-ra.”

“Yeah they’re dead…they’re…all messed up”

I’d like to write a treatise on this movie.  It’s been done.  They make it a metaphor for the times in 1968.  The zombies are the encroaching threat to the establishment.  They represent black people too, I think I’ve heard.  George Romero used a black protagonist which was progressive, but then again, he doesn’t survive, AND his plan for keeping everyone safe — as the alpha male in the bunch — failed.  Womp womp oh well.

Since I’m on zombies – anybody ever see Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things? One of the reasons I love Fright Night is because the kid in the movie watches it on TV, the part where Orville is reanimated and goes after the leader of the theater group. This movie has a cult following so I feel cool because I knew it when.

My horror story in my book, Mean-Spirited Tales doesn’t have zombies.  I may have a friend read one of the stories. I’m going to miss Bob being at the reading.  I’ve been to the Indian Road Café a few times to eat and Bob would be there.  He was retired so I think he went everyday for lunch.  “There goes that Sword-Chinned Bitch,” he’d snarl. I was thrilled the first time he said it because I fantasize about walking down the street with people whispering “Hey, there’s the Sword-Chinned Bitch” — hehe.  So Bob helped me realize my fantasy.  After I got my hair butchered by the salon, Bob sees me and says, “So the flat-headed Sword Chinned Bee-itch is here.”  He made bitch two syllables.

When I went to the café to speak with the owner about my reading, I hear behind me, “I know I’ll be there to see the Sword-Chinned Bitch.”  It was Bob.  He bought my book and read my blog.  I wrote about my love affair with a mouse in my apartment on my blog.  He commented:  “Two words:  hanta virus.”  Ahahaha!

If no one else comes to my reading Bob will be there and perhaps with his lover, I used to say.  Bob passed away of a heart attack a week after I saw him at the café.  He was both wicked and very kind.  When I spoke to him last, he talked about having a good life and being fortunate.  I was fortunate to know Bob.  He was one of those blessings that we get in the minute of the day.