I’m really torn with this one. George A. Romero’s Diary of the Dead is at times engaging and timely, a calculated series of apocalyptic scenarios horrifically contained to its characters, streamed “live” via a student filmmaker’s point of view as the world crumbles around him. But the fifth chapter in Romero’s zombie films borders on ridiculous, laughable, and lazy, a troubling dichotomy of terrible acting and fascinating subject matter unable to secure any consistent pacing, context, or subtlety.
Hidden beneath the countless deaths, sacrifices, and cliches, lies a few staggering moments of complicity, glimmers of subtext condemning the “me” generation’s obsession with technology, arrogance, and expectation, and ultimately calling into question who’s really the zombies. There’s always one constant with the great George Romero – hope doesn’t come cheap.