Zack Snyder’s Ugly Visual Experimentation Blurs Overlong, Gory Army of the Dead
Photos via Netflix
Whether or not Zack Snyder is capable of producing a thrilling, intense, frightening zombie movie isn’t really a matter of debate. We’ve already seem him do exactly that, after all, as the career that would eventually spiral around a director’s cut of Justice League began with a lean, vicious 2004 remake of George A. Romero’s seminal Dawn of the Dead. That was early Snyder, however, back when the director was just an unknown talent with a flair for visuals, hunger for success and no burden of “auteurship” to live up to. His Dawn of the Dead helped instill new life into the zombie genre, modernizing it alongside 28 Days Later with both nihilistic, satirical bite and gruesome potency. And so, it’s understandable for fans to be excited to see the director return to similar material some 17 years later, especially after being trapped in the gravitational pull of superhero cinema for so long. But what Snyder’s/Netflix’s Army of the Dead sadly reveals is a director with a personal brand and opulent filmmaking style that has undermined whatever vitality existed in this premise. Snyder is trying to do so much here that the whole thing practically collapses under its own weight, a victim of its own attempt at bombast and visual iconoclasm.
With a plot that’s initial structure is oddly reminiscent of last year’s similarly disappointing Train to Busan sequel Peninsula, Army of the Dead is nominally the story of Scott Ward (Dave Bautista), a father and mercenary/burger flipper who is wallowing in his own private shame following a disaster in which Las Vegas was overwhelmed by a zombie uprising. Now months or years later, Scott is contacted by a billionaire captain of industry (Mortal Kombat’s Hiroyuki Sanada) who tasks him with infiltrating the walled-off city in order to score the heist of a lifetime from a casino vault before Las Vegas is scheduled to be bombed off the face of the Earth by the U.S. government. Scott must therefore assemble the requisite heist team, accomplished via the typical, Rick and Morty-style “You son of a bitch, I’m in” sequences. Throw in an estranged daughter (Ella Purnell) with her own reasons for wanting to snoop around the zombie-infested Vegas, and you have the bones of a zombie action/heist/father-daughter reconciliation storyline.
Of course, if you presented most directors with that outline, they’d work it into a tight, 100-minute thriller, but Zack Snyder isn’t most directors. If there’s one thing that defines this guy’s modern work, it’s the pursuit of overwrought decadence and a seeming determination not to leave anything on the cutting room floor—perhaps that’s what you get after enough fans beg for so long that it results in a 4-hour cut of Justice League. Regardless, this somehow results in a 2.5 hour sprawl for Army of the Dead, which is perfectly indicative of the excesses that are on display. Does it give us ample time to get acquainted with our cast of mercs? It certainly does, although it also means we spend about an hour chatting with these people before they ever set foot in Vegas. Only Snyder would argue that all of this bloat was essential.
Granted, there are some standouts among the cast who do manage to make Army of the Dead engaging in spurts. Bautista is as likable an action star as exists in Hollywood today, bringing his unexpectedly soulful delivery to material that isn’t really worthy of it, in addition to having a few nice action scenes where he gets to play the powerhouse, ragdolling zombie stuntmen with glee and practicing John Wick-style gun kata on the fly. Another magnetic screen presence is French actress Nora Arnezeder, here playing a tough-as-nails “coyote” who specializes in smuggling humans in and out of the ruins of Vegas, channeling the suave capability of Mélanie Laurent in Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. The film’s European ensemble is something of a mixed bag, as Matthias Schweighöfer’s German safecracker character is blessed with some of the script’s best lines of comedy, but is simultaneously referred to repeatedly as a “kid” throughout, despite the man being 40 years old.
Likewise, in the moments that Army of the Dead truly commits to zombie carnage (never moreso than in the musical opening sequence that heavily evokes the intro to Zombieland), it’s hard to fault Snyder and co.’s commitment to total grossout overkill. There are sequences here shocking in their sheer goriness—we’re talking Peter Jackson-level comic overkill, like a zombie being blasted into sticky red chunks in slow motion by a heavy-cal machine gun—that will have genre geeks guffawing at the chutzpah of everyone involved. Are those sequences dampened a bit by their overreliance on CGI, rather than buckets and buckets of fake blood? Perhaps, but the film’s commitment to splatter is still admirably intense and appreciably gross.