The Halloween Files (Part V): Zombie Apocalypses, Then and Now

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The video for Michael Jackson's Thriller came out when I was in Grade 4.  I know this with certainty because I can remember quite clearly my Grade 4 Halloween party at school.  As part of the festivities, our Grade 4 teacher thought it would be a fun idea to watch this new music video that was all the rage, by a rising star named Michael Jackson.

For those who forget (or never saw) the thrilling Zombie-dance, you can check it out here.  Thirty years later, Thriller still has that magical something-or-other about it, despite the light years of sophistication that now stand between film-making-special-effects then and now.  Michael Jackson's necromantic choreography may seem somewhat campy today, but I confess here that I came home from that Grade 4 Halloween party absolutely terrified. I lay awake that night, fully expecting an undead horde to burst through the floor of my bedroom as per the zombies that swarm Ola Ray at the 11 min. 11 sec. mark of the video.

I survived that night, of course, but in the continued spirit of confession, let me say that to this day, Michael Jackson's yellow werewolf eyes still send a thrill of terror through my chest. 

But here's the thought I'm mulling over today, as I practice thinking theologically about Halloween this month and all.  Released in 1983, Thriller opens with the following disclaimer from Michael Jackson himself (who was a practicing Jehovah's Witness at the time):  Due to my strong personal convictions, I wish to stress that this film in no way endorses a belief in the occult.  

Three decades later, I find this disclaimer very telling.

Because zombies are experiencing a bit of a renaissance these days, from what I understand.  Witness, for instance, the success of The Walking Dead TV show,  or the increasing popularity of "zombie walks," or the recent film Contagion, which some reviewers have called "the most believable zombie movie ever made."  But what's curious about this resurgence of interest in the living dead is that, back in 1983 our collective imagination associated zombies with the occult, whereas now-a-days we associate them more with the fallout of some technological catastrophe or global pandemic.  (This is, at least, how serious academic research on the prospects of a real Zombie apocalypse tackles the issue.)

The original zombie numbered among the "undead"; i.e. it was a re-animated corpse, raised up by some dark art or other: voodoo or necromancy or magic.  The modern zombie numbers among the "walking dead," that is, a still-animated corpse, contagious with death because of some biological disaster or other, be it nuclear, bacterial or genetic. 

And herein lies the terror of the modern zombie.  Unlike vampires and werewolves, they are still conceivable to us, even in our scientifically scoured and technologically dis-enchanted world.  In this regard, the shift in the zombie archetype-- from occult horror to biohazard-- reveals something theologically significant about the modern world.  To the extent that the monsters we imagine are really just a projection of our deepest cultural fears, it's certainly suggestive that today's zombie is no longer a demonic horror but a monster of our own making.  In a rationalistic world that has (for all intents and purposes) disavowed the reality of all things spiritual (good or evil), an occult terror like necromancy has lost its potency.  But the possibility that the technological wonders we depend on so deeply may actually erupt into an apocalyptic horror that reduces civilization as we know it to a staggering corpse--that's a thought to keep grown men awake at night.

So what does the mythos of the modern zombie teach us?  In short:  once we feared the devil; today we fear ourselves.