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completely ad-free, but more on this at the end. I’ve always had conflicted feelings about zombie stories. In terms of quality, most of them are not exactly high art. They tend to be campy and gory, and yet, in spite of my better judgement, I still find myself drawn to them. I like zombie stories. I like watching them, I like playing them. And considering how it grew into such a widely popular and arguably oversaturated genre, I’m guessing I’m not alone in this. For it is true that today, zombies are everywhere, and they have certainly proven themselves to be quite versatile. Aside from the classic, slow-moving, mindless menace, we now have fast zombies, horde zombies, and even socially organized zombies. We’ve seen zombies as dangerous monsters in more serious horror stories, but we’ve also seen them in comedies and even love stories. We’ve seen them as the hunters, as well as the hunted. As a fearsome enemy, as well as target practice. And this, for me, is where the conflicted feelings really come from. They are not so much an issue of quality but one of meaning. For while all these different interpretations and applications of the zombie is perhaps what allowed the genre to become such a vast and oversaturated one in the first place, it also feels like, as a result, a lot of these stories are only concerned with novelty for novelty’s sake, which in turn, makes it even more difficult to get a sense of what they signify on a deeper metaphorical level. Right now, zombies both seem to be embodiments of our existential fears,
as well as cannon fodder in our power fantasies. In one moment, they are used to invoke fear and terror, while in another, they are the butt of a joke. Ok, ok, now it's probably clear. But surely, there has to be more to it than zombies being this massive collective guilty pleasure devoid of meaning and thoughtfulness? It is obvious that they resonate with something within us,
but what it is precisely that we seem to connect to so strongly? What are zombie stories really about?
When do they succeed, when do they fail? Today, let’s find out. Let’s cast a critical look at the genre of the undead, examine the underlying functions and metaphors that are often overlooked
or taken for granted. Let’s untangle the messy meanings of zombie stories. Zombies as they have become popular in today’s mainstream culture,
as you probably already know, can be traced back to the work of filmmaker George Romero, who gave the zombie its now most familiar traits. In The Night of the Living dead, the zombie, or then, the ghoul, was introduced as a mindless monster that was inexplicably resurrected from the dead. Driven solely by an instinctive hunger for human flesh, they pursued the living in a tireless, albeit somewhat awkward fashion. The only way to kill them was by destroying their brain or by burning them to ash. However, if you were bitten, scratched or killed by one of them, you yourself would become a zombie shortly after. Though we’ve seen some different variations of the zombie in the decades that followed, these basic traits have remained largely the same. They are soulless, infectious, incurable, largely invulnerable and eternally hungry for the living. Just shoot them in the head. The attackers can be stopped by removing the head or destroying the brain. The symbolic meaning of these zombies became more obvious in Romero’s next film Dawn of the Dead, which was later remade by Zack Snyder. Taking place within a mall, the zombies served as a rather on the nose commentary on consumerism; on our increasingly thoughtless and infectious obsession with material goods that deteriorates our humanity and is turning us into, well, zombies. And while this metaphor, and its underlying commentary, is still painfully relevant today, Too many of us now tend to worship self-indulgence and consumption. most of the zombie stories we are enjoying now seem to have moved on from this specific social critique, but… where to? In our grand mythos of monsters, zombies have undeniable carved out a secure place for themselves, but it is a bit of weird one, mostly because when it comes to the creature itself, there just isn’t that much to engage with. Take for example other classic monsters like vampires and werewolves, who have their monstrous aspects contrasted by a human side, by an inner richness and complexity that allows them to take the center stage and be more than an environmental hazard for other characters. Even the popular more animal-like monsters like Godzilla and King Kong have some sense of personality and emotional depth that makes them more than just monsters, and that is what makes it so interesting to revisit them time after time again, as there is always some new perspective, some other psychological, philosophical, or sociological aspect to explore. With zombies, however, this inner humanity is specifically absent. They are, for all intents and purposes, soulless. They have nothing going on inside of them, there’s no real consciousness, they have no emotions, no fears, no desires besides, you know, eating humans. Whether they were your mother or your best friend, they are beyond your help, they are uncaring, unfeeling, incapable of remorse. Unlike Nosferatu, or Frankenstein’s monster, or the Amphibian Man from The Shape of Water, a zombie could never be the protagonist of a story, except maybe, as the film Warm Bodies did, by changing this fundamental aspect of what they are, and giving them that inner humanity after all. Why can’t I connect with people, oh right, because I’m dead. And still, despite lacking any kind of soulfulness, zombies managed to transcend their initial symbolical purpose and the franchise they were born in, much more so than the other monsters that are also more of a pure monster and less of a real character to engage with, like the Xenomorphs in the Alien series, the Terminator or the Predator, all of which are highly popular, but, aside from that one time the xenomorphs and predators
were pitted against each other, pretty much remained limited to their original universes. So why are zombies the exception? Why did they become such a phenomenon and such a staple
in our mythology of monsters? Well, part of the reason for this, I think, is that they are not so much a great metaphor as they are a great mechanic At the root of the zombie story lies a relatively simple survival fantasy; a fantasy about escaping from the structures of modern society and from who we are within it. A zombie story returns the world to its primal essence, a world where we don’t have to care about our career,
our appearance, our social status, a world where we don’t have to care about politics, about norms and rules, a world where everything is reduced to the singular task of survival. As such, a survival fantasy is really a purpose fantasy,
a desire for a world of clear and simple meanings, a world where everything, for better or worse, makes sense. Going back to Dawn of the Dead, we can now see how the zombie apocalypse functions not just as a symbolic commentary, but also as an act of transformation. The film presented us with a mall which was once the embodiment of complex social dynamics, cultural movements, personal insecurities, and so on, and turned it into a stage for meaningful action. We see this transformation in virtually every zombie story, this stripping down of everything and everyone from the layers of civilized meanings, so to say, and the return to a purely functional state, a state where any given thing is either useful for survival and worth pursuing, or discarded. Buildings for example are no longer separated and categorized by their former status of house, bank, store, prison, etcetera., with all their associated norms and limitations, but are all transformed into the more simple survival-based denominators of potential shelter, potential source for supplies, or potential source for danger. In short, the world of zombies is an escape from the complexities, restrictions and pressures of our civilized society, it’s an escape to a world where you don’t have to worry about
the meaning of your existence, don’t have to worry about finding a purpose in life for all this is already provided. Now, you may wonder, as I did while writing this, why the need for zombies? Why not just an apocalyptic world with no zombies? A world where you can also go back to the basics; build a shelter, grow food, and just live out the same fantasy; survive and relax, without the additional worry of being eaten by the undead? Well, for one, I think that if an apocalypse returns the world to a simpler state, zombies ensure that it stays that way. They prevent you from rebuilding to a point where you find yourself back in a civilization again. It keeps the fantasy one that can go on perpetually. Moreover, the inclusion of zombies also connects the fantasy to one of the most basic stories from our childhood imagination, at least in my experience, the story of the sort of archetypal conflict with the monster lurking in the dark,
and the building of a fort where you can feel safe and secure, leading to a simple cycle in which you, as a video on The Walking Dead from the channel Entertain the Elk put it, seek shelter, engage enemy, and repeat. This, I think, is part of what Minecraft made such a phenomenon. During the day, you can wander about in relative safety, which gives you time to mine resources, build your fort and prepare for nightfall, when the zombies come. I’m not sure what it is exactly that makes this classic conflict so appealing, maybe it is simply that the added danger in the outside world heightens the joyful experience of comfort once you have returned to safety. The game Dying Light for me certainly invoked that feeling when, after a full day of free running through its zombie-infested city, gathering supplies and doing missions while always being
on the lookout for the undead, I hopped back into a safe zone and was able to just take a breath and relax. What we must also consider is not just the question why the need for zombies, but also the question of why zombies specifically. It is interesting how compared to other monsters, like the aliens in A Quiet Place, The Tomorrow War, or Edge of Tomorrow, or like the dragons in Reign of Fire - remember that film? all of which are highly deadly, zombies are not necessarily as threatening. They are certainly dangerous, but they’re not that dangerous. Assuming the classical interpretation of the slow-moving zombie, they are not that much stronger or faster than we are. After all, they used to be humans, so they are not fundamentally more dangerous like many of those other monsters we could be facing. On top of that, being mindless and dimwitted, zombies lack our creativity and cleverness, they can rather easily be outsmarted, outmaneuvered. As such, the zombie apocalypse as a survival fantasy
also functions as a power fantasy, a fantasy in which, to put it simply, you enjoy a feeling of empowerment that you do not or cannot experience in real life. And it’s a pretty good one too because it tends to be a relatively accessible one, meaning that it is easy for many people to imagine themselves in it. Most zombie stories don’t demand their main characters to be highly skilled or highly trained, they can be anyone, and most often they are just regular people. All you need to do, as the awkward protagonist from the film Zombieland pointed out, is follow a few basic rules and you’ll have a decent chance of survival. I survive because I play it safe and follow the rules. In fact, there even seems to be a sort of positive feedback loop in which people who consume a lot of zombie stories feel increasingly secure that they would know what to do if one were to actually happen, which in turn increases the enjoyment of the fantasy. It’s gotta be the brain. Don’t y’all know nothing? But the zombie apocalypse transforms the world not just in terms of
purpose and functionalities, it also transforms our social reality. And this, is also where things start to get messy. As previously discussed, a zombie apocalypse, or any apocalypse for that matter, returns our civilized society to a more primal state. And this affects not only the world around us, but also ourselves and our identities. When the sole purpose of life is reduced to basic survival, a lot of the roles and statuses that currently make up our society no longer matter. And so, at first glance, there is a certain democratizing effect to a zombie uprising, it puts everyone on equal footing. It is still a bit ableist considering it does demand survivors to be moderately able-bodied, but overall, in the face of the undead, it no longer really matters if you are rich or poor, black or white, man or woman. And some zombie stories specifically point out how their apocalypse brought people together who would otherwise have remained separated, how people who before wouldn’t give each other the time of day now rely on each other for survival. There’s us and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart. It feels almost idealistic, in a way,
and I wish I could say there was some hidden message here, some overlooked deeper meaning about how zombie stories emphasize our communal nature, and the values of solidarity and equality, but unfortunately, this isn’t exactly the case. For despite zombie stories implicitly showing how we need others for our survival, the kind of social dynamic that is most often depicted tends to be one that could be characterized as a sort of reluctant cooperation, What’s your name?
- Stop. No names. Keeps us from getting too familiar. where people do acknowledge that their individual chance for survival is higher
when working together, but the agreement to do so often remains a rather functional one. It is rare to see survivors act purely out of selflessness, or form a group out of the desire for emotional support or other human needs that don’t relate to survival as directly. There are exceptions, of course, and we’ll get into those,
but more often than not, group dynamics tend to be defined by an underlying sense of distrust, which frequently results in active betrayal, or other selfish acts that end up causing harm to the survivors as a group. Even when a real bond is formed, it is almost always limited
to the members of the group, with those outside of it still being met with severe distrust, if not blatant hostility. It’s a strange contradiction where these stories do show how human beings
rely on each other, while at the same time also seem unwilling to extend that idea beyond individuals and their groups as a more general rule of who we are. And I wonder to what extent this detracts from our enjoyment of them. I think what made The Walking Dead series so successful in the beginning is that it captured the zombie myth in its pure classical form with slow-moving walkers and a focus on the nitty-gritty of survival, thereby providing one of the more enjoyable survival fantasies. It is true that, right from the start, there were some less friendly
and selfish individuals, there was some fear, tension and distrust, but in these early days, all this was more the exception than the rule, and the overall vibe still had a sense of humanity that made it more likely
for survivors to band together, to try their best and to act with generally good intentions towards others. Rick, thanks.
- Glenn, you're welcome. You're a good man, Rick. These people, the old ones, staff took off, just left them here to die.
Me and Philipe were the only ones who stayed. As the show progressed however, this feeling slowly transformed, perhaps because, going back to Entertain the Elk’s video, the formula of seeking shelter and engaging enemy was becoming a little repetitive and the writers were trying to find new ways to keep audiences engaged. As it often does, this meant less conflict with zombies and more conflict between survivors. We for example also see this in the disappointing sequel to the excellent Train to Busan - yes we will get to that one, that is almost solely centered around a Mad Max-like tribalism. It makes sense though given that, as discussed, the zombie itself provides only so much to engage with in storytelling terms. But unfortunately, this change also tends to make a story much more cynical. Especially in post-apocalyptic stories, we tend to assume that humans will almost automatically resort to rugged individualism and an uncaring me first mentality, with survivors becoming increasingly hostile and cruel to the point where, for me, these stories just become way too depressing. Stories like these also make zombies themselves a little problematic,
at least in metaphorical terms. For in its design, the zombie itself already comes with a certain cynicism. Just look at how a zombie plague, which spreads itself through infection and specifically through human-to-human contact, assumes an inherent fear and wariness of other people,
especially of the sick and injured. That’s not a bite, sarge, I laid it open on a rock.
- Stay there. I saw your bandage and that’s what we were afraid of. We have to quarantine him right away.
- Then what? Furthermore, because a zombie infection is incurable and victimized people tend to turn into zombies fairly quickly, sometimes seconds after being infected, any form of real caretaking is pretty much entirely discouraged. There are a few exceptions where a transformation is avoided by quickly chopping off a wounded leg or arm, but in most cases, the only thing that could be deemed as an act of compassion towards an infected human being, even if that person is a loved one, is a solemn shot to the head. Personally, I don’t think these are by definition fatal flaws in the design of the zombie, anything can become meaningful when used in a conscious and thoughtful way, but the point is that when the prevailing norms of a story are already characterized by a rather cynical individualism, this is often exactly what is missing. We don’t get a story that uses zombies to comment on dehumanization,
but instead we get one that uncritically takes it for granted, or even uses it as an excuse for selfish, uncaring and violent behavior. That’s tough shit, because this is our place and you can’t stay here. In short, the great pitfall with zombies is that they can become a catalyst in making a cynical story even more cynical, one that ends up reflecting a world where humans are by nature aggressive and selfish, where only the strong get to survive and the weak are left behind, and where any social responsibility that we would otherwise see as the norm, or at least value as a virtue to pursue, is ignored or discarded. And this, at best, is a highly limited perspective, because, as I’ve discussed in my video “Who we really are… when everything goes wrong” that’s just not how human beings work. Sure, we have a potential for evil, but we are at heart pro-social and communal creatures, always have been. And to me, it is only when zombie stories take this into account, when they assume humanity as more nuanced and complex, when they offer more than what is essentially a self-indulgent
and unreflective fantasy of freedom without responsibility, that they become better and more interesting. So, what does it take for zombies to become meaningful, to become more than a mechanic or accidental symbol of cynicism? Well, one way is to make some changes to the zombie itself. We already saw this in the rather lighthearted film Warm Bodies, in which zombies are shown to still have some lingering humanity left within them, one that can be brought back through love and care. The humans began to accept us, connect with us. This was the key to the cure. More serious attempts have been made by stories like The Girl With All The Gifts, which has hybrid children that carry the zombie infection, yet still retained much of their humanity, and I Am Legend, which technically features mutants, but also has a moment where the mindless monsters are revealed to have more humanity than was initially presumed. In these stories, and in the case of I Am Legend,
much more so in the book than in the film, attention is drawn to our own perception and dehumanization of others, and how we fear that which we don’t understand. But while I certainly believe these are interesting takes on the zombie,
and good stories in general, I’m personally more interested in zombie stories that don’t make significant changes to the zombie itself and assume it in its classical, mindless design. Note that this is not a list of the only good zombie stories, they are just a few that for me highlight their potential, and show how zombies can be used in a meaningful way. For starters, there are stories that use traditional zombies as a rather straightforward vehicle for characters to learn a valuable lesson. In Train to Busan for example, we meet our main character as a negligent father and an overall selfish person. But during a zombie outbreak, he slowly comes to understand that things generally go better when we care about others, and worsen when we act selfishly. A similar journey can be found in Shaun of the Dead, in which the main character has to learn responsibility, specifically when it comes to his relations with those around him, and stop mindlessly wandering through life, like a zombie. Here, the wrath of the zombies becomes a mirror to our personal failures, an exaggeration of the kind of behaviors and character traits
that we should seek to avoid. But there also stories that use zombies as more expansive metaphors. Take for example The Last of Us series. In these games, the player faces fungal zombies, meaning people who were infected by a fungus that took over their brain and effectively turned them into zombies, which, metaphorically, are used as an interesting reflection of the part of us that drives so much of our conflicts and mutual destruction. In my review of The Last of Us: Part 2, I discussed how on a thematic level, the story is essentially about clashing ideologies and competing viewpoints, and how they can lead to a lack of empathy, an unwillingness to understand others and ultimately, to violence. To quote myself: “in The Last of Us, the fungus that infects people’s brains feels more analogous to this idea of how we can become so infected by our own convictions that we become enraged, blind and ultimately toxic to the world around us.” But when it comes to using zombies to provide some deeper insight into ourselves, my personal favorite has to be World War Z, the book, not the film. I actually like the film in its own right, but anyone who has read the original knows they share very little besides the title. The book takes place some 10 years after what is known simply as the zombie war, and has its main character travelling the world interviewing survivors to create an account of what happened and how. At one point, there is a discussion about what it really means to battle zombies. “For the first time in history,”
– one character comments – “we faced an enemy that was actively waging total war. They had no limits of endurance. They would never negotiate, never surrender. They would fight until the very end because, unlike us, every single one of them, every second of every day, was devoted to consuming all life on Earth.” And this, I thought, was fascinating because it uses the very essence of the zombie,
in all its mindless inhumanity, to say something meaningful about who we are. It emphasizes how the total war waging undead really revealed our own limitations, both in the physical sense as, unlike zombies, we need to sleep, eat, and drink, and in a psychological sense as, again unlike zombies, we have feelings, we have fears and emotional needs, we have a will that is vulnerable to external pressures,
a will that inevitably has a breaking point. The book goes into great detail about how so many of our traditional war strategies, which rely heavily on things like deterrence, intimidation and posturing, i.e. emotional and psychological warfare, simply do not work against zombies. Zombies cannot be bullied or disheartened,
they cannot lose their spirit, they cannot be broken. They are, in this sense, the ultimate antithesis of who we are,
an exact mirror opposite. Perhaps even, our ultimate enemy. I think part of the great success of World War Z is that the story
is presented as a historical account. At the beginning of the book, the zombie war has already ended, and we won. This provided a light at the end of the tunnel, an assurance that despite all the flaws in ourselves and our society, which the book goes into great detail about; like how we tend to make things worse by avoiding our responsibilities, by covering things up and refusing communication, or how we let fear, pride and prejudices get in the way of cooperation and progress, there is also that underlying presence of our better nature,
and the qualities that ultimately triumph. For it is true that zombies not only lack our weaknesses, they also lack our strengths. I mentioned before that zombies don’t have our creativity and cleverness, but as World War Z shows, it goes deeper than that. Zombies wouldn’t come to each other’s aid,
they wouldn’t show each other compassion. They can destroy but they cannot build.
They can inflict pain but they cannot heal. And this, for me, was probably the best thing about World War Z. It reminds us that while zombies cannot despair,
they also cannot hope, and in the end, this proves itself to be a powerful force too, one that, as the novel seems to emphasize, is all too often overlooked as a quality that ultimately defines and shapes us as human beings. “It just didn’t seem real. Peace? What the hell did that mean?” – one character remarks when thinking back to the moment of victory – “I’d been afraid for so long, fighting and killing, and waiting to die, that I guess I just accepted it as normal for the rest of my life. I thought it was a dream, sometimes it still feels like one, remembering that day, that sunrise over the Hero City.” In conclusion, despite it having become such an oversaturated genre
with at times messy meanings, the zombie story is definitely not without vitality and potential. Through its archetypal conflict of man versus monster, and its basic survival mechanics that offer an escape into a simpler, almost primal world, it has captured the imagination of many and will likely continue to do so
in some form or another. We’ve also seen how this does not mean that the genre, like the zombie itself, is thoughtless and devoid of meaning. Like many of the other monsters in our collective mythologies, zombies too can be used in interesting ways to reflect or comment on various aspects of our society and of ourselves, even in their most classical form. For as the previously discussed zombie stories have proven, we don’t necessarily need newer, faster, smarter zombies,
we don’t necessarily need novelty, as with all other aspects of storytelling,
we just need them to be used meaningfully. There is one more question that I haven’t yet addressed:
why is there so much gore in zombie stories? But because YouTube isn’t a big fan of violence and excessive blood and guts, I have published an extended and unrated version of the video on Nebula. Partnered with CuriosityStream, Nebula is offering a new home
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