It's been a little while since I entered the doors of the Bloor Cinema (here in Toronto). The 9 p.m. show last evening was George A. Romero's 2007 horror film, Diary of the Dead. While I was watching it I wrote a mental review. There is a lot I can say but will just leave it at this: Why did Romero feel compelled to make Diary of the Dead? His powerhouse 1968 film Night of the Living Dead should be left as his take on the whole idea. Diary feels like a first or second run through of the script; it is that rough, dramatically. The acting is very poor.(There was quite a bit of laughter from the smallish and youngish audience at the Bloor Cinema last night. They seemed to be hip as to what a bad movie sounds like.)
A few minutes after the end credits went up -- and with a rock song playing along, no surprise -- I suddenly remembered Canadian filmmaker Maurice Devereaux's standout 2006 horror film, End of the Line. It is far superior. (As far as I know, End is still unsold. This makes no effing sense, if you know what I mean.)
George A. Romero now lives in Toronto -- smart man.
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