DVDs

DEAD & BURIED DIRECTED BY GARY SHERMAN BLUE UNDERGROUND

DEAD & Buried is often cited as a Dan O'Bannon picture. In certain sub-subsections of the population this is a keen selling point. By 1981, O'Bannon had already written Dark Star and Alien, and would later go on to write Total Recall and The Return of the Living Dead (which he also directed). But calling this an O'Bannon product is pushing it a little bit. As he freely admits in one of the featurettes on the two-disc set, all he did was give Jeff Millar and Alex Stern's script a final touch-up. O'Bannon was even hesitant to have his name attached to the project at all, not wanting to steal anyone's credit.

I'd also hesitate to call Dead & Buried a zombie picture, though at heart that's what it is. When most people think "zombies," they think of George Romero or Lucio Fulci. But these zombies don't shamble about in tattered clothes or chew on entrails. They look like anyone else, they hold jobs and they may or may not pay taxes.

More than anything else, it's a murder mystery, with James Farentino playing the sheriff of a small coastal town trying to figure out why so many strangers are being killed and mutilated. Later in the film, he also tries to figure out why these same strangers are reappearing as regular townsfolk.

Dead & Buried may move more slowly than most horror films, but that just adds to the atmosphere. And if there's one thing this movie's got in spades, it's atmosphere—the gray, foggy town, the buildings and people seemingly lifted from another era. My one frustration was that it was so damned dark, I couldn't tell what was happening much of the time (though I came up with some pretty ugly guesses).

The film benefits from an intelligent genre-mixing and genre-busting script, a clever twist or two and a delightfully creepy performance from Jack Albertson as the town's coroner. He drives a vintage hearse, listens to big band music and takes great pride in his work. (Also keep your eyes open for a pre-Freddy Kreuger Robert Englund playing a deputy.)

This was Gary Sherman's second feature film, coming almost a decade after his cannibal fiesta, Death Line. In that time, somehow, his skills improved markedly. The music, editing and cinematography keep the slowly evolving mystery alive, with enough outright gross-out shocks tossed in to keep genre fans happy (especially that "hypo through the eye" sequence).

All in all, it's a hell of a lot more intriguing than watching a bunch of Filipinos gnaw on chicken guts for two hours.

Blue Underground, as usual, has gone over the top, offering interviews with O'Bannon, Englund and makeup designer Stan Winston, along with three separate commentary tracks.

  THE NOAH'S ARK PRINCIPLE DIRECTED BY ROLAND EMMERICH ANCHOR BAY

"GERMAN SCIENCE FICTION" is as much an oxymoron as "German comedy." Still, before making it big in the U.S. with the likes of Independence Day and his mistitled remake of The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, writer/director Roland Emmerich took a stab at it in this 1984 feature. The results were what you'd guess—murky, slow, humorless and baffling.

In 1997, a joint U.S.-European space station called Florida Arklab (for some reason) is conducting experiments in weather control through the use of microwaves. They can brew up a storm or a flood anywhere in the world, whenever they like. When a coup erupts in the Middle East and Cold War tensions bubble, the U.S. decides to turn Arklab into an offensive weapon, much to the chagrin of the two astronauts aboard. Their chagrin only grows when they uncover evidence of conspiracy, sabotage and betrayal.

It all sounds much more exciting than it really is. Most of the film takes place aboard the cramped and dark space station, there's a lot of talking and the nature of the conspiracy is never made all that clear. It's quite a snooze.

  DAY OF THE DEAD DIRECTED BY GEORGE ROMERO ANCHOR BAY

IN 1985, Day of the Dead was lambasted by critics and fans alike. The characters weren't likable. It lacked the humor and scope of Dawn of the Dead, as well as the shocking nihilism of the 1978 original. There was too much talking and not enough gut munching. And what's with the happy ending? Well, it's not as bad as all that.

Set a few years after Dawn, a small handful of soldiers and scientists hunkers down in an underground research facility. The world above them has been completely overrun. As the scientists try to understand, even domesticate the zombies, the soldiers are left with little to do except complain and harvest free-range ghouls for research. Tensions rise, secrets are revealed, people snap, all hell breaks loose, guts are munched. That's pretty much it.

Even if the characters are generally hateful (ranging from self-righteous to insane), it's understandable how their circumstances could drive them there. The over-the-top acting does have some bright spots. The atmosphere is appropriately dour and claustrophobic. Romero's Reagan-era commentary is solid; Tom Savini's f/x, as always, literally mindblowing. It's talky, but with plenty of splatter along the way. In short, it's grim, but an absolutely logical progression of the series.

The two-disc set includes commentaries, featurettes and Romero's epic original script.