...unless your flesh has decayed in the course of minutes thanks to a mysterious, possibly viral, ailment that kills and then reawakens you to a zombie dreamland: the busy streets of London. Chick flicks, westerns, big box electronics stores, TV news, George Romero, and 28 Days Later are fat targets for the gut-wrenching drop-jaw comedy-suspense-romance-slasher Shaun of the Dead, which I implore you to see, provided you have a strong stomach and a healthy (and a bit snarky) sense of humor.
Along the way you'll learn new uses for old LPs, cricket bats, sambuca, video games, juke boxes, and laundry baskets. From scene to scene you'll chuckle, burst out in laughter, shrink back in horror, cringe-laugh, grasp your armrest, apologize for grabbing your neighbor's arm, snort, and, most of all, marvel that a movie could be this funny, this graphic, this horrific, this clever, this British. Thankfully, there's no sap-happy ending; the film's light touchdown is as shockingly funny as the previous hour and a half.
It was showing on just one screen within thirty miles of Olympia; I can only hope and pray it becomes a bust-out hit by word of mouth. See it. Don't take the kids.
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