For as long as I can remember I’ve read things. Books, textbooks, the backs of cereal boxes, the backs of pill bottles, and when I was really desperate one of my sister’s Teen magazines. But it was when I was fifteen or so and had become accustomed to the internet that I finally discovered screenplays.
It was wonderful. My favorite movies distilled down to their very bones. At first, I read for pleasure but pretty soon, as my love for writing grew and my hopes of joining the hallowed halls of these script websites along with some of my idols, I began to study them. The words, the structure. Finding art in what I’d always been told was nothing more than a blueprint. But I feel that to be an incorrect sentiment. See, scripts are so much more and some even have the exact same power as some of the best in literature.
I’d like to discuss with you just one of those very scripts, and it’s one of my favorites at that; George A. Romero’s and John A. Russo’s classic work, Night Of The Living Dead. Let’s break apart the machine, look inside and see what makes it tick.
Logline:
A group of survivors, holed up in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, must battle a teeming mob of undead as well as their own anxieties and stress if they wish to survive the night.
Premise:
Barbara and her brother John drive out to the grave of their mother to pay their respects when they’re attacked by flesh hungry ghoul. John is killed instantly – by way of a cracked skull against a grave stone – prompting Barbara to flee into the woods where she comes upon a farmhouse as well as a truck driver named Ben.
Ben explains to her that there are more of these things everywhere. In fact, they’re beginning to surround the house. Barbara remains catatonic on the couch while Ben begins boarding up the house and fending off any more of the ghouls he comes across. In his journey, he comes across a number of people already hiding in the basement. Tom, Henry, Helen and their sick child. The radio speaks on how the ghouls must be dispatched – “put one right in the eyes” – and how they should stay out.
Disagreements ensue. Should they stay down in the basement, as Harry wants, or up above, as Ben does. They compromise and decide to try and fill up the truck with gas in an attempt to flee. An idea that leads to ruin. Tom is killed when the ghouls surround the truck and overturn it. The leaking gas causes an explosion. Back inside, the group halves, one upstairs, the other in the basement.
Down in the basement, Henry and Helen’s child turns, killing both Helen and Harry. The explosion outside, draws more ghouls to the house, breaking down the boards Ben put up earlier.
Ben and Barbara hole up in a room till morning when the fires have died down and the ghouls have stalked off. Ben goes to check to see if the coast is clear and is immediately dispatched…but not by a ghoul…but humans. A gun shot – “put right between the eyes” – lays him out cold and dead.
A mob of ghoul killers pick off the remaining few and shepherd Barbara to safety. As for Ben, he’s thrown on a fire pit with the rest of the trash.
Overview
When you hear the name Night Of the Living Dead, what’re some words that spring to mind? Mutilation. Gunfire. Bloodshed. Death. And that’s only to name a few. So, it’s ironic that when reading George A. Romero and John A. Russo’s seminal classic, that its opening words are anything but and in fact quite calm and brimming with life.
It’s a gorgeous juxtaposition for the coming chaos soon to follow. Romero and Russo know how to place you in their world and hit you over the head repeatedly – not unlike one of their undead abominations – with an atmosphere that oozes. This is the case all throughout, long stretches of action lines that more times than not aren’t even action, the story isn’t moving forward per se, but you are engaged, you are in this arena and they have you strapped in. And with that, I think irony is the keyword that I kept harkening back to as I drank in each of its 87 pages. Cause while it’s no doubt an engaging read, one whose themes and ideas on societal collapse and base human nature will no doubt stick with me for a while to come, it’s a script that’s also one percent incorrect. Hell, I’d be willing to bet any amount of money that someone could write a whole tome sized book on how not to write a screenplay and use Night Of The Living Dead as its sole culprit.
However, that’s not me saying this is a bad script. Not at all. But in actuality, I’d argue, as odd as it may sound, that every technical fault ascribed to this script are in fact the very thugs that make it work and make it special. Confused? Don’t worry, you’re not alone. I was right there with you in the course of reading this. But allow me to explain.
Structure
Now as odd it may sound to say, the script really doesn’t seem to have one but then again, as I’ve alluded to previously it also seems to be playing by its own rules and doesn’t much care for one. Down to the fact that aside from the opening EXT. CEMETERY – DUSK, Romero and Russo do away with scene settings altogether. Typically in the action lines, scenes will transition then and there:
There’s a common rule in screenwriting that’s typically taught and used, which is to forego And Then and change your scenes to Buts and Therefores. So for example, if you were to describe a scene as simply, “And then a character did this, and then after that did this this and then after that did this…” it may come off as a bit rote and boring to someone. But if you change it to buts and therefores, which could read more as: a character enters a setting with something in mind, but something is there to derail them, therefore they must change up their tactic. Night of the Living Dead, firmly claims stake in the former category.
This gives the entire film a flow from one moment to the next. We are on a journey, same as Barbara, from that cemetery, into the woods and finally into the farmhouse. This screenplay isn’t a constructed building so much an ever undulating snake that coils and uncoils at its own leisure.
In that regard it feels more like a novel. Not to mention the big bloated bits of action line that riddle the script, top to bottom. Such as:
Or:
Now before continuing, have it be noted that is the absolute wrong way to write action, especially when writing a short script. Best to keep it quick and concise and to the point. Long action like this just isn’t gonna cut it if you’re trying to gain fervor for your script. It’s an excellent way to bore and scare off most people from finishing their initial reads. However, it fits perfectly here.
As I’ve mentioned before, Romero and Russo coat the script with dread and atmosphere but more than that, the big blocks of action serve the world. In most zombie/apocalyptic fiction the worlds are, simply put in a word, work. The most insignificant things in the real world, like when one of our protagonists Ben – otherwise known as Truck Driver – boards up the house, it’s become this Herculean task – can he do it in time? Does he have enough wood? How many nails has he used up already? We’re right alongside him. The work permeates into the writing as we have to trudge along and read, nearly sweating ourselves. But the script is a master at creating feel, so even as the characters – a topic we’ll be getting to shortly – aren’t the most compelling – in a technical sense, at least – it allows us a chance in their shoes, so to speak. With this, the ensuing tension is far more palpable. And with this, it can maybe give the cast and crew a far better understanding of the piece you’re trying to bring. The need for having to speak and convince them can leave once it’s right there on the page.
Characters
The characters here are depthless in the traditional sense, in so much as that they’re so real. There’s a single moment where someone pines for the safety of their family but other than the script is nothing but anger-
and terror-
The characters are more chess pieces, moved about and kicked off the board by Romero and Russo at their own leisure. Barbara, who we can assume is our lead, spends more than half the movie asleep and catatonic on a couch. And that brings about a coldness that permeates the spine of the piece. There’s no love nor respect here. The world is grim, it chews you up – in more ways than one – and then spits you right out.
It harkens back somewhat to the works of Lovecraft, in a way. His characters were paper thin, in terms of depth. There simply to drive forward his themes and ideas on invasion and terror of the “other”. That said, I do definitely think Romero and Russo’s work is far more forward thinking than Lovecraft ever thought to be. There’s always the sense that the group breaking down hurts them in a way, the writers wish it could stop but unfortunately, as human history has taught us time and time again, it doesn’t. The characters here are gears in a cog and the machine only goes when pain and suffering are delivered.
Themes and Final Thoughts:
Now I can talk to death, same as many have before on the ideas of distrust between fellow man. Man being the real monster. But I think what’s truly special about this script can be summed up simply in a word. Anger. Maybe it’s no surprise but this doesn’t feel like a couple of people wanting to scare you, no, they wanna yell in your face – spit, slobber and all – and tell you how they really feel…and then they wanna scare you. I mean, look no further than the ending where one of our leads, the hero – or the closest thing to one – of the piece, is literally burned on a pyre like trash.
Like many of Romero’s films to follow it’s a story that not only points a finger at you but jabs you right in the chest with it. It implores you to be better. It implores everyone to be better, all while plunging you straight into hell to see the damning effects of not doing so.
It cares by not caring. It deposes violence by ripping out throats. It does the opposite of what it’s told because that is how society tends to go about things. This isn’t a poorly constructed screenplay so much as it’s a mirror held up high for all to see. It’s ugly. It’s bloated. It’s a mess. It’s us.
