|Can I survive any horror film? I survived House of the Dead.|
And with that, I present you with a sampling of favorites (no order):
Dawn of the Dead (1978)
The original DOTD came out when malls were just beginning to flourish, and my world consisted solely of Zwieback cookies and New Zoo Revue. If an actual zombie apocalypse had occurred at that time, I think I would've been all set had my stoner parents sought shelter in a Kinderfoto. Plus, they were baked all the time anyway and could've easily passed themselves off as zombies. Perfect.
But today? There was a point in my life when I never met a mall I didn't like, but now, you'll hardly ever find me or anyone else in one. Which probably still makes the mall the best place to hide. I'm comfortable with eating gigantic pretzels for the remainder of my days. The key to surviving the mall during a ZA is to find a White House | Black Market and hide there. WHBM is, without question, the most pointless shop in any mall. Honestly, WTF do they sell there, segregated chinos? If the theory holds true that zombies revisit the places they used to go when they were living, then it's guaranteed that you'll be pretty much left alone in a WHBM. Grab a plasma TV from Sears. Get an Orange Julius or Mrs. Field's cookies from the outskirts of the food court. No one will be in those places, either. You're welcome.
I love this film. It came out the year I was born, which is just so apropos. Now, this one puts me at a crossroads. I love to make out, I love the Seventies and I'm a fan of pools and parties, so can I resist a good Seventies makeout pool party? I think I can, I think I can. Mostly because I don't love a big, gnarly slug entering my body that I'm not legally contracted to love, honor and cherish. So, time to assess the situation at hand. It's 1975, I'm in Canada, and Canadians are nice—so nice that we just assume that our neighbors to the North will take us in as we're running from a ZA in the States (cough, Land of the Dead). The only thing that would probably make them not be nice is a murderous, horny parasite.
The key to surviving this one? Eliminate the sexy places and go hide on Degrassi street, where they've got enough to worry about, like teen pregnancy and class elections. I can while away my days listening to Rush and eating poutine. Most teenagers on TV today are played by 38-year-olds, anyway. I'm packing my bags as we speak.
The Beyond (1981)
What? Some poor bastard was accused of witchcraft and savagely murdered in this hotel I just purchased—and it encompasses the seven doors of death, one of which is now open to scores of the living dead? Alrighty, I'm off to the Motel 6. They're leaving the light on for me.
The Fog (1980)
I figure nothing will confuse evil fishermen more than seeing nice fishermen on a box of breaded fillets—so I'll be loading up on some Gorton's. After all, we're supposed to trust the Gorton's fisherman, and to that end I'll be pelting them with frozen boxes featuring his likeness from atop my bitchin' lighthouse radio station. You didn't actually think I was going to eat those things, did you? I'm married to an Englishman. I've tasted the good stuff.
What—you expected me to have an actual strategy? I'm in a lighthouse! When I'm that high up, the only thing I'll need to do is decide what records to play.
I'm thinking the Zombies.