THE DEAD ONE (1961) Kind of a dud
THE DEAD ONE (1961)
Also known (to few) as BLOOD OF THE ZOMBIE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pYuolEkieCE
Feh. This is a slow, listless zombie story with not much to recommend it. The acting is about what you would get it if you gathered a few of your friends together and they really did their best without any training or skill. The story is slack and there is little tension or suspense or even atmosphere. Everything is lit in a bright, flat way like DRAGNET. There is only one zombie, a guy named Jonas in the very nice suit and tie he was buried in. He has a mop of straggly black hair, a stiff craggy face and no personality.
This was a few years before George Romero rewrote the Walking Dead rulebooks include predatory flesh-eating, so Jonas is just a mostly docile puppet following orders given by someone with voodoo... in this case, his sister Monica. She's afraid that their cousin John will come back to claim the family estate (because he got married and the will stipulates that means he earns turf), so she rounds up a local voodoo cult (who seem incredibly disinterested in those affair) and rousts Jonas from the sleep that should have no ending. "Go out there and kill, kill, kill. Get my drift?" And you know, if you found yourself in a situation where raising a zombie seemed expedient, why use your own brother? Wouldn't that be a bit upsetting? Use a stiff you never heard of, for less emotional baggage.
Many pointless and annoying conversations eat up running time as best they can. We do get to hear a few jazz bands (the Joe Burton Trio!), see a belly dancer's act shot entirely from twenty feet away so it's not interesting, enjoy some Louisiana scenery (some of the 1961 cars are quite bizarre looking by today's conditioned expectations) and it's almost like a tour of New Orleans only not fun. There's a half-hearted final confrontation in the nicely tidy and airy crypt, some cops show up to fire a few rounds and snag Monica when she gets in the way (whoops..) and Jonas evaporates in a puff of smoke when sunlight hits him just like NOSFERATU. And so you've lost an hour out of your life, but it was relatively painless and certainly this killed fewer brain cells than network TV would with its merciless onslaught of commercials.
Written, directed and produced by Barry Mahon. For all I know, he punched the little sprocket holes on the edges of the film and glued the labels on the film cans as well.