Black Zombie, The Ideologically Charged Zombie Doc

The Universal Monsters are still potent, because what makes them monstrous are really elevated aspects of their prior humanity (love, remorse, exhaustion, loneliest, and anxiety). However, zombies scare us more today because their humanity has been stripped away. That is the greatest consistency with the zombies of Haitian lore. Filmmaker Maya Annik Bedward examines the original Haitian mythos and traces similarities to the modern George Romero-inspired zombies in the documentary Black Zombie, which opens in theaters this Friday (why the filmmaker and distributor would agree to such a tragically significant release date is absolutely baffling, but they did).

The title will evoke themes of racial politics for many readers that are indeed prominent throughout Bedward’s film. It is specifically intended as a direct rejoinder to Victor Helperin’s White Zombie, the grandaddy of all zombie movies. To Bedward, it establishes a template for subsequent vodou films, in which white visitors are preyed upon by black Haitian practitioners. Yet, White Zombie does not really fit the formula it supposedly establishes, since the vodou master is portrayed by Bela Lugosi.

Frankly, the stylish White Zombie deserves more credit than it gets. However, the film’s coverage of white (and undeniably insensitive) adventure writer William Seabrook, who first popularized Haitian zombies for American readers is quite intriguing. Likewise, the interviews with Wade Davis, author of The Serpent and the Rainbow are rather fascinating in the way his Haitian field work and publishing compares and contrasts with Seabrook’s sensationalism. Davis insists he was appalled by the way Wes Craven’s adaptation added horror elements that were never present in his book, but explains he never criticized the film during it release, because it paid for his house (fair enough).

Bedward’s experts do a nice job disentangling zombie legends from vodou practice, making a convincing case they both reflect the religious roots of Haiti’s former slaves, but are in fact separate and distinct. On the other hand, Bedward often muddies the film’s themes by incorporating extensive Haitian history. It is tragic, in many ways, but it seems like a stretch to argue films like Val Lewton’s I Walked with a Zombie reflected anxiety regarding the Haitian Revolution of 1791.

In fact, that gets at the greatest irony of Black Zombie. The marketing and publicity are squarely aimed at fans of the films, whom Bedward’s talking heads spend ninety minutes shaming for their insufficiently enlightened tastes. Indeed, the film’s lack of nuance and humor greatly hinders its persuasiveness and watchability. It also would have helped to have even a modest degree of viewpoint diversity. Documentaries are more fun when its experts disagree. That never happens in Black Zombie.

This is one of those odd films that resents its own subject matter. It is a lecture rather than a celebration or even an ironic mocking. The resulting viewing experience will leave its target audience cold and frustrated. Not recommended, Black Zombie opens Friday (9/11) in theaters.