A Thomas Bess review of:
Directed By: Bruce McDonald
Starring: Stephen McHattie, Lisa Houle, Georgina Reilly, Hrant Alianak, Rick Roberts
Run Time: 95 minutes spent wondering why you never paid more attention to things like syntax and grammar.
Might as well start this review with a bit of horror blasphemy: yours truly is not a fan of zombie films. Sure there are some exceptions, most of Romero’s work, Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead remake and a few others, but that’s about it. My problem with this particular sub-genre lies in the fact that the filmmakers either want to A) offer some deep, dire warning about how the evil du jour is going to cause society to crumble and the shambling undead are relegated to the role of ham-fisted, brain-eating metaphor or B) they have no message at all and just want to paint the set with massive amounts of gore in hopes of shocking their audience, as opposed to actually scaring them. So yeah, much like its undead comrade the vampire, I had just about reached my zombie saturation point (huh, that’s a neat phrase) and then along came Pontypool. While it’s not a perfect movie, it’s one of the most interesting and original zombie stories I’ve seen in a very long time.
Plot is as follows: Grant Mazzy (McHattie, who instantly earned himself a spot on the “Awesome List” with this role) is a former mass market shock jock who’s been recently fired and forced to take an early morning DJ job in the isolated Canadian town of Pontypool. Things start normally enough on this particular winter morning, but shortly thereafter Mazzy and his staff (Houle and Reilly) start receiving reports from around town of a mob wandering the streets and perpetrating escalating acts of violence. The idea of a hoax crosses everyone’s mind but is quickly wiped away when they receive confirmation that the military has blockaded the town and basically put everyone under quarantine. As things outside go from bad to worse, Mazzy and his crew come to realize that there is indeed a new sort of virus out there, one that is spreading in a heretofore unthinkable way. Yes friends and neighbors, some “thing” has infected certain words of the English language and upon hearing and more importantly, upon understanding those toxic words, the hearer goes batshit nuts. To say anything more would be delving into spoiler territory, suffice to say that the tension is kicked up to nigh unbearable levels in fairly short order, which is always a good thing.
Speaking of good things, the story gets first nod as it’ll keep you riveted from start to finish. Like any good apocalypse, it starts quietly enough but just keeps building and the deepening unease of the characters on the screen really helps to sell the threat to the viewer. It’s funny too, more so in the beginning when a hoax seems likely, but even when that hope has been dashed there are occasional chuckles to be had. Which is not to say that Pontypool is a movie that takes time to wink at the screen, because it doesn’t. Everything is played deadly serious. But Mazzy is first and foremost a radio host and he keeps up the amusing asides, even if it’s only to keep his own sanity. Playing our deposed shock jock is Stephen McHattie, who I am ashamed to admit I did not recognize until I checked out his IMDB page (should you be reading this good sir, rest assured that it will not happen again). Simply put, he does an amazing job with the role of Mazzy, a guy who starts the film pissed off and unpleasant, but as the world outside slowly goes to hell, he takes a rather heroic turn and I’d wager you’ll be rooting for him to save the day long before the credits roll. On the gore side of things, while it’s certainly not a Tom Savini wet dream there’s enough nastiness to get the point across, including one of the most outrageous instances of projectile vomiting I’ve seen outside of The Exorcist.
What’s not good? Well, there’s a character introduced around the halfway point, a Dr. Mendez (Alianak) who seems to know a whole lot more about what’s going on than he ever bothers to reveal. According to the reports coming in, the mob of crazies first gathered around his office, so you’d think that at some point after his arrival he would’ve offered up a cogent explanation of what’s going on. Instead, he rants and mumbles for the most part, sticking around just long enough to to further the plot, (for the benefit of the audience as much as the characters) then he’s off again. It almost seems like there could be a whole ‘nother movie dedicated to what this dude was up to and just how he managed to make it to the station despite the roaming packs of zombies. The plot also hit a rough patch toward the end when Mazzy starts putting things together and ultimately discovers a cure of sorts for the virus. It’s not the unexpected optimism that puts a damper on things so much as it is the murky way the conclusion is reached. I’d guess that the director wanted it to be vague enough so each could come to their own answer, but there’s just not enough information provided to do so, at least not enough to come up with anything really satisfying.
But the above are little more than minor quibbles, if you’re looking for a cerebral, spooky take on zombies that’ll have you thinking long after the movie’s over, take a dip in the Pontypool (sorry) as soon as possible. If however, you’re looking for boatloads of gore and violence, seek to slake your undead craving elsewhere, as there’s nary a decapitation or disemboweling to be found here.
Finally, in honor of George Carlin’s Seven Words You Can’t Say on T.V. I’m awarding Pontypool five out of those particular seven. Which five, I leave to your imagination.
Til next time, always remember that the calls are coming from inside the house.
Tom Bess recently shaved his legendary sideburns at a cost of two hours and five pounds. The end result is a slightly puffier, but much more aerodynamic movie-reviewing machine who is still patiently waiting for Allison Mack to return his calls. While he’s waiting, he’ll read copious amounts of Lovecraft and eat too many Peach Gummy Bears.
