ove zombies? Watch the films. Read the books. Run the Zombie 5K. Hear lectures at York College’s Zombie Symposium. Not enough? Okay. Here’s another zombie theory to ponder: Why exactly are we all suddenly going cuckoo for the Undead Cocoa Puffs?
The zombie craze is currently gobbling up all media outlets known to man. Based on the novel by Isaac Marion, the film “Warm Bodies,” a unique and quirky zombie-human romance, has grossed over $65 million since its release in early February. Not to be shown up, 2009 throwback “Zombieland” —featuring a chainsaw-wielding Emma Stone— grossed over $75 million. Max Brooks’ “World War Z” is slated to feature a zombie-slaying Brad Pitt as part of its June 2013 release, and now there’s even talk of Brooks’ enormously-popular “Zombie Survival Guide” being adapted to film.
Taking a cue from the film industry, television network powerhouse AMC picked up the Little Zombie Comic That Could: “The Walking Dead.” Since then, the show has earned two Emmy Awards, a Golden Globe Award nomination and a WGA Award for Outstanding Achievement in Writing Derivative New Media—not to mention, it’s now the most-watched drama in basic cable history.
But why is the series so popular? Now that the third season has reached its gritty but unsatisfying conclusion, many fans are disappointed with the ambiguity and mystery of the finale; however, we’re itching like crazy for season four. Even when the series has its low points it still manages to keep us hooked from episode to episode, from season to season. Why?
I think the answer we’re looking for lies not necessarily in the plot—all zombie-apocalypse plots are fairly similar—but in the characters. Their development and the incredibly poignant moments where their relationships with one another become the center of their universe. Iconic scenes—like the passing of the sheriff’s hat from father to son, the tender moments between a battered widow and a crossbow-shouldering redneck and an afternoon around a campfire when the Korean pizza-guy blurts out, “There’s walkers in the barn and Lori’s pregnant”—are truly the bread and butter of “The Walking Dead.”
Sure, the series is definitely about the zombies, and there is plenty of zombie-slashing gore to go around (and then some), but the real story is, in fact, the story of the human condition. What sort of people would we become if we had nothing left? Which of our core values would we be willing to compromise in order to survive, in order to ensure the survival of those we love? These are questions that the characters of “The Walking Dead” must face every single day of their fictional lives.
A large part of our attraction to the zombie apocalypse theory, I think, is the idea that when our society’s infrastructure collapses, we’ll get to know other people—and ourselves—in a brand new, uncharted, never-before-seen and sometimes frightening way. It’s entertaining to imagine ourselves as badass, new-age vagabonds roaming the landscape on motorcycles and taking out entire hordes of zombies with just a crossbow and some willpower, but let’s face it: we can’t all be Daryl Dixon. And when societal conventions are tossed off the table, how will we know what’s right or wrong anymore? What sort of person will you become when you’re faced with the challenges of survival? It’s something we don’t often think about, but it’s something that these stories force us to consider. I can’t say that the human factor is what drives the success of this series, or the success of any other zombie story, for that matter. Sometimes it’s just about how awesome it looks when a drooling flesh-eater gets walloped in the face with a sledgehammer in 3D. Sometimes it’s just about sexpots like Emma Stone wielding a chainsaw. And sometimes it’s just about enjoying the thrill of being so scared—or laughing so hard—that you might wet yourself.
Whatever your reasons for enjoying the new pop-culture zombie craze, I think it’s important to point out one commonality among all of these zombie narratives: very rarely are the main characters alone in their fight against the invading armies of the undead. When it comes to zombie apocalypses, there is strength in numbers. There might be some pretty nasty misunderstandings, disagreements, fist-fights, eye-gougings and stabbings, but hey, at least they’re all in this together. It’s one of the things I’ve always found so beautiful and powerful; the zombies provide the post-apocalyptic backdrop necessary for building the premise, but the interactions between the characters pack the real punch.
Underneath these zombie-slaying fantasies lies this little consideration: “when the proverbial excrement hits the figurative fan, who will I hand-pick to be part of my post-apocalypse wolf pack?” For those of us who’d rather stick together, I think the allure of a zombie apocalypse isn’t all about the zombies; it’s about who you want with you when nothing else makes sense. That’s why stories like “The Walking Dead” make so much sense to me. It’s the story of a group of individuals who only have each other, and in our world today—zombies or not —that’s a whole hell of a lot.
