Italian zombie movies come with their own set of rules and clichés. By 1994, the extreme gore and apocalyptic visions the genre is famous for were well-established. Michelle Soavi's "Cemetery Man" shows its disinterest in the tradition of the genre in its opening minutes. After a long pan out of the inside of a skull, Francesco Dellamorte causally, without care, shoots a zombie in the head, paying it little mind. "Cememtery Man" has zombies in it but is not a zombie movie. Instead, it's a surreal, absurdist voyage into the Freuadian psycho-sexual subconscious of its lead character.
Adapted from a novel by Tiziano Sclavi, itself a spin-off of Sclavi's immensely popular "Dylan Dog" comic, the movie takes a semi-episodic look at the life of Francesco Dellamorte, the caretaker of a cemetery in the small Italian town of Buffalora. The dead buried in the cemetery have a nasty habit of returning to life. However, Francesco's concerns are elsewhere. He worries about loosing his job, keeping the zombie infestation a secret. He wonders if his life has meaning and if he'll ever get out of his dead-end corner of the universe. A plot line slowly forms, revolving around Francesco meeting the woman of his dream, only for her to die, and reappear again. The troubles in Francesco's life pile up, culminating in visions of Death itself, prompting him to murder the dead while they're still living.
Soavi loads his film with symbols, layers, and deeper meanings. A first time viewer just has to let the dreamy "Cemetery Man" wash over them. Repeat viewers are allowed to examine the picture, discerning the purpose behind its images and stories. Francesco has no concern for the dead, apathetically slaying zombies. He has little regard for life either, even before his murder sprees start. He struggles to find meaning in his life, has few friends, and no future. The cemetery becomes his prison, the job and the town around inescapable. The events of the film are representative of his inner turmoil. The ending and snow globe imagery reflect this, showing Francesco as trapped in his own cycle of self-defeat. The script acknowledges that this is the protagonist own fault. Dim-witted Gnagi has no problem assembling the skull puzzle Francesco struggles with.
The original Italian title is "Dellamorte Dellamore," translating as "Of Death, Of Love." The love of Francesco's life is a nameless woman that keeps returning to his life. Credited only as She, the woman sets up her own purpose earlier on, asking the man if she "can return." She is represented by billowing scarfs. The title is visually illustrated when her bright red scarf, representing of love, blows onto a pile of skulls. The nameless woman is less a character then another symbol of Francesco's self-inflicted torture. During their graveyard set sex scene, the woman stand behind a statue of a headless angel, the wings behind her. Later, the wings fall off the statue, beside Francesco's feet, marking them both as fallen. The first time She dies in Francesco's arms, he is unable to save her. The second time he lets her rotting zombie chew on him. The third encounter shows his suffering over a woman he barely knows isn't worth the trouble it brings. By her fourth appearance, Francesco has come to actively resent his love, another symbol of his endless frustrations. Love, like death, is never as simple as it's supposes to be.
Don't think "Cemetery Man" is a pretentious study in symbolism. The movie has a darkly comic absurdist streak running through it. This is most evident in Gnagi, Dellamorte's sole friend and companion. The rotund Gnagi resembles Uncle Fester and speaks only one word, a grunting "Gna!" He grotesquely scarfs spaghetti and mindlessly watches television. He hordes dried up leaves in the same way Francesco hordes old telephone books. Like Stan, he shows his romantic interest in the mayor's daughter by vomiting on her. Despite perishing immediately afterwards in a motorcycle crash, Gnagi still gets to have a relationship with the girl. He removes her zombified head from her glass coffin, serenading her with his violin. The girl('s head) is charmed by the bizarre Gnagi and happily takes up resident in his blasted-out TV. Humor is all over the place in this film, from the oddball motorcycle riding zombie, the girl willing to have her undead boyfriend chew on her, the mid-film absurdist take on Tod Browning's "The Unknown," the mayor's morbid political grubbling, to Rupert Everett's sarcastic line readings. For all its melancholy and existential wandering, "Cemetery Man" is a very funny movie.
It's also, visually, quite a beautiful one. Soavi has always been a fantastic visualist but he tops himself here. The cemetery is another world. Torquise balls of swamp fire dance through the air. Fog billows among the grave stones. The gates and walls of the graveyard seem to close in on the characters as the story goes on. The tombs are painted in blues and violets. Soavi places his camera in creative locations. It slides between floorboards, under coffin lids and even peers out of a floating head's mouth. Inside of showing the aftermath of a violent shooting in a simple A-to-B fashion, the camera spins upside down. "Cemetery Man" is equally moody and creative in story and visual presentation.
The ending is inscrutable at first. However, I finally gleamed its meaning on this rewatch. Francesco realizes his greatest treasure had been beside him the whole time and, still unable to escape his own world, devotes himself to his stalwart companion. Rupert Everett is perfectly cast in the lead, Francois Hadji-Lazaro makes one word mean so much, and Anna Falci is achingly desirable. "Cemetery Man" is a unique, beautiful film, Michele Soavi's masterpiece, a one-of-a-kind treat for adventurous horror fans.
Adapted from a novel by Tiziano Sclavi, itself a spin-off of Sclavi's immensely popular "Dylan Dog" comic, the movie takes a semi-episodic look at the life of Francesco Dellamorte, the caretaker of a cemetery in the small Italian town of Buffalora. The dead buried in the cemetery have a nasty habit of returning to life. However, Francesco's concerns are elsewhere. He worries about loosing his job, keeping the zombie infestation a secret. He wonders if his life has meaning and if he'll ever get out of his dead-end corner of the universe. A plot line slowly forms, revolving around Francesco meeting the woman of his dream, only for her to die, and reappear again. The troubles in Francesco's life pile up, culminating in visions of Death itself, prompting him to murder the dead while they're still living.
Soavi loads his film with symbols, layers, and deeper meanings. A first time viewer just has to let the dreamy "Cemetery Man" wash over them. Repeat viewers are allowed to examine the picture, discerning the purpose behind its images and stories. Francesco has no concern for the dead, apathetically slaying zombies. He has little regard for life either, even before his murder sprees start. He struggles to find meaning in his life, has few friends, and no future. The cemetery becomes his prison, the job and the town around inescapable. The events of the film are representative of his inner turmoil. The ending and snow globe imagery reflect this, showing Francesco as trapped in his own cycle of self-defeat. The script acknowledges that this is the protagonist own fault. Dim-witted Gnagi has no problem assembling the skull puzzle Francesco struggles with.
The original Italian title is "Dellamorte Dellamore," translating as "Of Death, Of Love." The love of Francesco's life is a nameless woman that keeps returning to his life. Credited only as She, the woman sets up her own purpose earlier on, asking the man if she "can return." She is represented by billowing scarfs. The title is visually illustrated when her bright red scarf, representing of love, blows onto a pile of skulls. The nameless woman is less a character then another symbol of Francesco's self-inflicted torture. During their graveyard set sex scene, the woman stand behind a statue of a headless angel, the wings behind her. Later, the wings fall off the statue, beside Francesco's feet, marking them both as fallen. The first time She dies in Francesco's arms, he is unable to save her. The second time he lets her rotting zombie chew on him. The third encounter shows his suffering over a woman he barely knows isn't worth the trouble it brings. By her fourth appearance, Francesco has come to actively resent his love, another symbol of his endless frustrations. Love, like death, is never as simple as it's supposes to be.
Don't think "Cemetery Man" is a pretentious study in symbolism. The movie has a darkly comic absurdist streak running through it. This is most evident in Gnagi, Dellamorte's sole friend and companion. The rotund Gnagi resembles Uncle Fester and speaks only one word, a grunting "Gna!" He grotesquely scarfs spaghetti and mindlessly watches television. He hordes dried up leaves in the same way Francesco hordes old telephone books. Like Stan, he shows his romantic interest in the mayor's daughter by vomiting on her. Despite perishing immediately afterwards in a motorcycle crash, Gnagi still gets to have a relationship with the girl. He removes her zombified head from her glass coffin, serenading her with his violin. The girl('s head) is charmed by the bizarre Gnagi and happily takes up resident in his blasted-out TV. Humor is all over the place in this film, from the oddball motorcycle riding zombie, the girl willing to have her undead boyfriend chew on her, the mid-film absurdist take on Tod Browning's "The Unknown," the mayor's morbid political grubbling, to Rupert Everett's sarcastic line readings. For all its melancholy and existential wandering, "Cemetery Man" is a very funny movie.
It's also, visually, quite a beautiful one. Soavi has always been a fantastic visualist but he tops himself here. The cemetery is another world. Torquise balls of swamp fire dance through the air. Fog billows among the grave stones. The gates and walls of the graveyard seem to close in on the characters as the story goes on. The tombs are painted in blues and violets. Soavi places his camera in creative locations. It slides between floorboards, under coffin lids and even peers out of a floating head's mouth. Inside of showing the aftermath of a violent shooting in a simple A-to-B fashion, the camera spins upside down. "Cemetery Man" is equally moody and creative in story and visual presentation.
The ending is inscrutable at first. However, I finally gleamed its meaning on this rewatch. Francesco realizes his greatest treasure had been beside him the whole time and, still unable to escape his own world, devotes himself to his stalwart companion. Rupert Everett is perfectly cast in the lead, Francois Hadji-Lazaro makes one word mean so much, and Anna Falci is achingly desirable. "Cemetery Man" is a unique, beautiful film, Michele Soavi's masterpiece, a one-of-a-kind treat for adventurous horror fans.