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I don’t generally care for zombie apocalypse movies. I also don’t much care for the “found family” trope in fiction. This is a zombie apocalypse movie that ends with a found family, so… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

A few weeks before Christmas, a comet is expected to pass near the earth, one that has not come by in 65 million years, since the extinction of the dinosaurs. People naturally see this as an occasion to party.

Except for Regina and Samantha Belmont, two sisters living in LA. Regina, the elder, spends the night with her boyfriend in a steel-lined movie projection booth, and Samantha hides out in a yard shed after a fight with the girls’ abusive step-mother, Doris.

As a result, both are spared the effects of the comet, which turns most of the population into dust, except for a few who are turned into zombies, one of which eats Regina’s boyfriend when he ventures out. Desperate to find any survivors, the two sisters head for a radio station that is still broadcasting. The DJ is nothing but a tape, but they meet Hector Gomez, another survivor who had spent the night in his truck.

When Samantha decides to start broadcasting her own announcements over the radio, the signal is picked up by a group of scientists who had prepared for the comet’s effects, and are looking to find survivors to bring back to their labs.

What follows are series of frightening experiences, from zombie police officers to sadistic zombie stock-boys when the two girls venture into what they think is an abandoned mall. Eventually, they reach the scientists’ lab—but even there, they are not safe from the hungry undead.

Eventually, Regina, Samantha, and Hector emerge from the apocalypse, along with two other young survivors. As Regina remarks, having taken on the role of matriarch in the newfound family: “The burden of civilization has fallen to us.”

That’s a basic, spoiler-free plot summary. But it omits the best character in the film, a rogue scientist named Audrey White, who is played exceptionally well in her brief screen time by Mary Woronov. She has only a few scenes, but they’re some of the most memorable ones in the film, and I would be remiss not to mention her performance.

So we’ve got zombie horror, a found-family ending… you would think I would hate this movie. But I don’t. I was actually really impressed by how well the film used its spare resource to focus on the core of the story. There is very little fat in this thing; it shows you just what you need to know to understand the characters and keeps moving along.

Then there’s the aesthetic, which is pure ’80s. The clothes, the hair, the cars, the music etc. As someone who never actually experienced the ’80s, I can’t say for certain, but I’m hard pressed to think of anything more aggressively ’80s than this. It’s a world for young people, and like another 1984 film declared: “tonight is what it means to be young.”

But part of being young is growing up, and that’s what Regina does over the course of the film. It’s never belabored or heavy-handed, but in a crisis, she goes from being an immature goof-off teenager to a capable and resourceful woman.

I never in a million years would have imagined I’d like a movie like this half as much as I do. It’s scary, it’s funny, it’s well-written, and above all else, it has real heart; not cheap sentimentality nor faux-sophisticated cynicism. Why can’t they make movies like this anymore?

Well, I think the answer lies in the words “low budget.” This typically signifies bad special effects or other negative qualities, but having a low budget forces talented artists to squeeze the very best out of what they’ve got. A big budget is wasted in the hands of a hack, and even truly skilled creative minds may be tempted to get lazy, to let the big special effects and gorgeous production values substitute for solid storytelling. Filmmakers with limited means have no such luxury.

Seriously, even if you hate zombie movies, I encourage you to watch this. Maybe it’s not for everyone, but by all logic it shouldn’t have been for me, and I love it, so you just never know.

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“The past is a foreign country,” according to L.P. Hartley. In his latest volume, Zachary Shatzer sets out to explore this foreign country, armed with nothing but his own whimsical sense of humor.

The first, and perhaps most educational section of the book focus on Emily Post’s Etiquette in Society, in Business, in Politics and at Home, published in 1922. Specifically, the section the proper usage and modes of address on visiting cards. Personally, I’ve wondered what visiting cards were since I listened to “The Grandson of Abdul Abulbul Amir,”  which includes the line: “and his visiting card / bore the name of this bard: / Count Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.”

Well, they were like business cards (which I’ve also never used) except in the early 1900s, everyone used them for social calls and occasions, and an incredibly complex system of etiquette evolved regarding their use. Ms. Post—excuse me, Mrs. Price Post, which is apparently the correct form of address for a divorcée—describes the rules for what a card should and should not say in different situations.

A few years ago, I reviewed a book that made reference to the debutante season, and I said it felt like reading about an alien civilization. I get that same vibe here. Frankly, the scariest part is that it feels like an alien civilization that is superior to our current one. Like we’re just apes throwing bones at monoliths.

But I digress. Shatzer then turns his humorous touch to more of the jests of Joe Miller, whose work he had previously collected in another volume. If you read that one, this feels like more of the same, although personally, I thought some the jests were too dark. As Shatzer notes, hating one’s spouse seems to be a source of much of Miller’s comedic material this time around.

From there we get an excerpt from a book (which sounded promising, I might actually read it), a selection of fables from the notoriously jaundiced eye of Ambrose Bierce, and a complete short story about baseball. Now, here I must confess that I find baseball to be extremely boring, and unless a work of fiction about it is written by, say, Mark Paxson or Kevin Brennan, it’s not a must-read for me. Shatzer’s humorous asides make it tolerable.

We then get another set of acerbic observations on relations between the sexes from a writer named Helen Rowland. I’d never heard of her before. Sadly, she seems to have had bad experiences in relationships. One of the running themes in this section is that men are constantly being unfaithful with chorus girls, which, oddly enough, was apparently the reason Emily Post divorced her husband.

Speaking of Emily Post, the book ends with another set of tips from her, this time on the art of camping, or roughing it without anything rough. This idea of simulating hardship while not actually having anything difficult or upsetting happen is, if anything, the most recognizably modern sentiment in the book. Perhaps that’s the reason Shatzer chose to end on that note, to remind us that we are not so different from our ancestors after all.

As a whole, the book is a charming look into the past, and an invitation to reflect on what future eras may think of our own. The public domain is a treasure trove of interesting works, and I hope Shatzer continues this practice of adding his commentary to older works. They can enliven even rather dull stories.

And I would also note that The Great Gatsby recently entered the public domain, so if Mr. Shatzer ever feels “borne back ceaselessly into the past…”

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The first thing to clarify here is that the title is intentionally provocative, to the point of being misleading. I think a lot of people read it and assume the idea is that the whole thing was faked, and that Baudrillard was some kind of conspiracy theorist. But really he was something much crazier and more dangerous: a French philosopher.

And in this series of essays, he does not deny that something happened in the Persian Gulf in 1991. But he disputes that what it was was really a war. Or at least, contrary to Fallout, that “war has changed.” Would King Leonidas or even Ernst Jünger recognize modern warfare? Airstrikes and cyberattacks have taken the place of direct combat between infantry in many conflicts, and Baudrillard argues the first Gulf War was an example of war being fought for the purpose of spectacle. Whoever convinces the TV audience they are winning is winning, regardless of what the actual situation in reality may be.

This ties in to Baudrillard’s signature idea of “hyperreality”, a condition of the modern world in which what we call reality is actually largely fake, with symbols having taken the place of the things themselves. For the vast majority of people, their experience of the war was solely in the images presented to them via mass media.

If this sounds like Daniel J. Boorstin to you, then congratulations! You have been a careful and attentive reader. Boorstin was a forerunner of Baudrillard, and nothing about this replacement of the territory with the map would surprise him. Honestly, if you read The Image, you’ll find yourself chuckling sardonically as DJB’s prophecy of 30 years earlier is fulfilled.

These are interesting ideas, and they seem to have become only more relevant since Baudrillard wrote them. Unfortunately, the essays themselves are rather hard to read since they are (a) dense abstract philosophy and (b) translated from French. I think it’s a very good translation, but still, there is just some inevitable weirdness that creeps in as a result. That’s on top of all the other weirdness in play here.

The fundamental problem isn’t really this new type of war at all; rather, it’s a symptom of our global communications networks. Back in the old days, if the Greeks fought the Persians, most people not in Persia or Greece had no reason to know or care about it. But in the modern world, when there’s an armed conflict anywhere, especially between nuclear powers, everyone hears about it. And has an opinion on it.

As is often the way with books like this, the author does a magnificent job describing the problem, and a very poor job describing how to solve it. Baudrillard leaves us only with a note of warning for what these virtual wars imply for the future of the world:

“The more the hegemony of the global consensus is reinforced. the greater the risk, or the chances, of its collapse.”

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Only Adam Bertocci could take one of the oldest and tritest riddles in the book (it dates to 1847, I discovered in writing this post) and transform it into a compelling work of literary fiction.  I mean, really, in this very short story he manages to weave together feelings of romance, fate, heartbreak, and dark comedy. I’ve read novels that didn’t have as much going on in them as this book does.

It’s the story of a chicken named Bertram, and the reasons that he decides to flee the farm life and go to… the other side. But, like many another literary crossing, this is more than just a literal crossing. It is a spiritual transformation.

This is somehow both very moving and deeply funny. I’m reminded of Paul Graham’s essay “Taste for Makers”:

The confident will often, like swallows, seem to be making fun of the whole process slightly, as Hitchcock does in his films or Bruegel in his paintings– or Shakespeare, for that matter.

That’s Bertocci to a “T”. He crafts something that is simultaneously a parody of the literary short form and a magnificent example of it. And he does it while staying true to the source material. The same cannot be said of many another modern adaptation.

And while I’ve never been as good at writing to prompts as, say, my friend Mark Paxson is… this made me wonder: what other hackneyed jokes or riddles could be repurposed as fodder for literary works? Knock, knock… who is there?

Well, I’ll leave that up to the rest of you. In the meantime, if you’re in the mood for a quick and clever literary experiment, pick this up.