Is there really no escape from the living dead? Zombies have found their way to school curriculum (Max Brooks’ masterful novel World War Z can be found in the required reading section of your book store) and they have always been a part of mainstream cinema from The Night of the Living Dead right up to 28 Weeks Later. Pontypool is one of the more inspired takes on the zombie genre. The film is low budget and high concept. The zombie film, some will say, has become a tired piece of art. George Romero’s recent entries into the zombie canon (Land of the Dead and Diary of the Dead) have been a far cry from his groundbreaking original visions in the late 1960’s through late 1970’s. The first 40 minutes of Pontypool marks a return to the roots of not only the zombie picture, but to horror in general. The things not seen are truly horrifying. That being said, the latter half of the film falters in a major way by not only over explaining itself but providing underwhelming visuals that wash all the initial fear away.
Pontypool tells the story of radio shock-jock Grant Mazzy (played exceptionally well by Stephen Mchattie). Mazzy has lost his job at a major market station and is now relegated to reading school closings and traffic reports for the small town of Pontypool in Ontario. His producer, Sydney Briar (Lisa Houle), and a local assistant, Laurel Ann (Georgina Reilly), make up the three-person studio team. The reporter in the field, Ken Loney (an excellent Rick Roberts), rounds out the morning show personnel. The morning begins like any other until strange reports begin coming into the station. Loney reports on riots outside a medical clinic, people talking to themselves and behaving erratically, and a military unit beginning quarantines of the town. The news starts out slow with what appears to be a protest outside the practice of Dr. Mendez (Hrant Alianak), presumably a local doctor. Gradually, through Loney’s reporting and the BBC updates, the news becomes more and more violent. The small station, located in the basement of an abandoned town church, eventually comes under attack by ravenous mumbling former locals. Dr. Mendez seeks refuge at the station as he attempts to explain the strange events to Mazzy. It turns out that it’s not a conventional virus that is turning townspeople into zombies. The virus is spread by fairly unusual (and borderline laughable) means. Pontypool’s plot isn’t extremely complex and all the action takes place inside the radio studio. Just like Mazzy, Sydney and Laurel Ann, the viewer is trapped inside the station listening in horror as the story unfolds on newswires, over telephones and, eventually, up close and personal.
I mentioned before, the first 40 minutes of the film are very tense and well done. Good horror doesn’t have to provide gruesome special effects-laden visuals to be effective. Hearing Ken Loney’s phone calls into the studio and listening to the local law enforcement’s reports being read out loud on the air are scary in and of themselves. They are frightening because they allow the viewer to paint his or her own visual interpretation of what is happening outside the walls of the studio. Mchattie gives Mazzy the voice of a pack-a-day smoker and a connoisseur of the finest aged whiskey. This steady voice juxtaposes the terror happening all over Pontypool. The cinematography and Canadian indie-specialist Bruce McDonald’s direction are spot on, that is, until the film falls apart.
Many will say that Pontypool is not meant to take itself seriously. They will insist that films of this nature are meant to be so high concept that they border on funny. Either a film is enjoyable or it’s not. The last half of Pontypool is a major disappointment. The downturn begins when Dr. Mendez falls through an open window at the station, only to fully explain the unique nature of the virus in question. Without giving a full spoiler, I will say that the spread of the virus has something to do with the audible nature of the English language. The zombie bites are not spreading the disease, somehow, certain spoken words are. This is more fully explained in the film but, it is as ridiculous as it sounds. As if that’s not bad enough, we then get some major up-close looks at the zombies and the effects of the virus. Needless to say, said “effects” look rather cheap considering the art house nature and budget of the film. The mystery of the first half is squandered and Pontypool loses traction right up until the strange sequence at the end of the credits. It seems to want to be two different films. The first film is vintage horror while the second is some type of conceptual horror-comedy. This comedic turn may fit the tastes of some but I happened to find it more frustrating than anything else. The film becomes too cluttered and silly and ultimately fails to leave any type of lasting impression.
Pontypool is certainly a different take on a seemingly tired type of horror film. When the movie gets rolling, it’s hard not to be caught up in the suspense. The suspense gives way to humor and over-the-top dialogue and acting. This seems to be the film’s intention and it succeeds beyond a shadow of a doubt. Pontypool does not end up being, by any means, a straightforward horror film, nor does it try to be. The movie, while it attempts to stretch the boundaries of how conceptual horror can be, forgets the minimalism that makes the first half of the film as good as it is. Somewhere along the way, Pontypool’s commentary on the use of language gets jumbled and lost amidst its over-the-top plot turns. Some horror fans are sure to get a kick out of Pontypool. I, for one, did not.
Actually, the “motif of harmful sensation” is a pretty well-established horror theme, to be found in everything from the magical realism of Jorge Luis Borges Neal Stephenson’s sci-fi classic Snow Crash, as well as Jeff Vandermeer’s excellent anthology of imaginary diseases, “The Thackerey Lambshead Guide.” Oh, and William S. Burroughs. Oh, and Laurie Anderson. Oh, and the entire tradition of Hermetic magic. And, say, a good half of the Japanese psych-horror films of the last ten years. It’s not only far from “ridiculous,” it’s absurd that any worthwhile horror reviewer would not be aware of the concept, indeed, the whole genre, of memetic horror. Pretty pitiful work, but I guess we’ll all be more comfortable once you’ve stopped trying to tackle anything scary and unusual and gotten back to some nice, simple action flicks. I hear Transformers 2 is really good for, um, people of your special needs?