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That is, cheap and in bulk quantities.
Three of the lamest in the genre have been released in a cheap-ass box set. At under $7 a film, it's almost worth it to get the Zombie Pack: Vols 3-5.
In theory, these are a part of the same series as Zombi 2 (which is a sequel to nothing at all, just an excuse for Fulci to capitalize on Romero's Dawn of the Dead success, and which was released in the US as just plain old Zombie, just to keep us on our toes). In practice, only Zombi 3 qualifies, as it was directed by Fulci. It's not a bad film (even bad Fulci is better than, say, "good" Michael Bay), but it's not exactly full of that whacky concept known as "plot," and don't even mention "continuity." That said, if you want random zombie attacks in a hotel, along with terrorists, bad dubbing, and a zombie DJ, this is the movie for you. It's actually a lot of fun to watch, as long as you don't compare it to Romero's movies, or even better Italian horror flicks. It also clearly inspired at least a few things that Peter Jackson used in Dead Alive (chopping off hands, zombie babies, etc).
Zombie 4: After Death (now with bonus letter "e") has nothing to do with Fulci or the previous movies at all. In fact, it's actually a little bit of a throwback to pre-Romero zombie flicks, with vaguely voodoo-esque zombies being the motivating force. By "vaguely," I mean, of course, "nothing at all like voodoo, but there's a ritual performed by native black people on a remote island that, for lack of a better word, we'll call Haiti (although it's in the Pacific here)," and isn't that the same thing? Anyway, after a prologue in which the natives read from the Book of the Dead (Psuedo-Haitian Voodoo Edition) and summon demon zombies to kill all the Europeans but a little girl who survives and escapes because the creatures took their cue from Aliens, and can't kill a little girl to save their (un)life, we flash forward twenty years, to the now-adult girl and her mercenary friends and mall-trash girlfriends coming to the island to accidentally re-awaken the zombies. Seriously, that, as far as I can tell, was the goal. They soon start to get slaughtered by zombies who talk, shoot guns, and otherwise act human, other than wearing bad makeup. There's a decent amount of gore, at least.
And then we get the creme de la creme, Zombie 5: The Killing Birds, starring The Man from U.N.C.L.E. himself, Robert Vaughn. Or, as I like to call it, Ornithologists Gone Wild. The "plot," if you'll pardon the term, involves a Vietnam vet who comes home one day to find his wife cheating on him, murders her, her lover, and his in-laws, and gets his eyes pecked out by his wife's vengeful pet hawks. Even blind, he apparently manages to not spend life in jail for committing four murders, and puts his infant son up for adoption (or maybe just leaves him on a random doorstep). Flash forward, and the son has grown up to be an ornithologist named Steve, and he and a bunch of his bird-loving buddies head into the middle of nowhere in search of The Obscure Woodpecker, where they meet the now-blind Vaughn, who, amazingly enough, is also an ornithologist. He gives them directions to the nearest zombie-infested swamp (hey -- ornithology's a dangerous hobby!), where they end up in the house from the opening sequence and get killed off one-by-one (by zombies, ghosts, and, I think, random special effects brought on by the roll of a die), until, at the last possible minute, Vaughn reappears to explain that he's responsible for the curse, and he'sLuke's Steve's father! He sacrifices himself, and the long existential nightmare is over.
I can't recommend these films enough. Bad acting by jaded Italian genre actors, bad dubbing by god-knows-who, multiple directors on at least two of the movies, random gore, gratuitous sex, and plots that could only have been conceived while the screenwriter was smoking a big-ass bowl of crack. Thanks to the recent Zombie Resurgence on the big screen, every crappy undead vehicle is getting a DVD release. For this price, the movies are almost fun enough to be worth it.
Three of the lamest in the genre have been released in a cheap-ass box set. At under $7 a film, it's almost worth it to get the Zombie Pack: Vols 3-5.
In theory, these are a part of the same series as Zombi 2 (which is a sequel to nothing at all, just an excuse for Fulci to capitalize on Romero's Dawn of the Dead success, and which was released in the US as just plain old Zombie, just to keep us on our toes). In practice, only Zombi 3 qualifies, as it was directed by Fulci. It's not a bad film (even bad Fulci is better than, say, "good" Michael Bay), but it's not exactly full of that whacky concept known as "plot," and don't even mention "continuity." That said, if you want random zombie attacks in a hotel, along with terrorists, bad dubbing, and a zombie DJ, this is the movie for you. It's actually a lot of fun to watch, as long as you don't compare it to Romero's movies, or even better Italian horror flicks. It also clearly inspired at least a few things that Peter Jackson used in Dead Alive (chopping off hands, zombie babies, etc).
Zombie 4: After Death (now with bonus letter "e") has nothing to do with Fulci or the previous movies at all. In fact, it's actually a little bit of a throwback to pre-Romero zombie flicks, with vaguely voodoo-esque zombies being the motivating force. By "vaguely," I mean, of course, "nothing at all like voodoo, but there's a ritual performed by native black people on a remote island that, for lack of a better word, we'll call Haiti (although it's in the Pacific here)," and isn't that the same thing? Anyway, after a prologue in which the natives read from the Book of the Dead (Psuedo-Haitian Voodoo Edition) and summon demon zombies to kill all the Europeans but a little girl who survives and escapes because the creatures took their cue from Aliens, and can't kill a little girl to save their (un)life, we flash forward twenty years, to the now-adult girl and her mercenary friends and mall-trash girlfriends coming to the island to accidentally re-awaken the zombies. Seriously, that, as far as I can tell, was the goal. They soon start to get slaughtered by zombies who talk, shoot guns, and otherwise act human, other than wearing bad makeup. There's a decent amount of gore, at least.
And then we get the creme de la creme, Zombie 5: The Killing Birds, starring The Man from U.N.C.L.E. himself, Robert Vaughn. Or, as I like to call it, Ornithologists Gone Wild. The "plot," if you'll pardon the term, involves a Vietnam vet who comes home one day to find his wife cheating on him, murders her, her lover, and his in-laws, and gets his eyes pecked out by his wife's vengeful pet hawks. Even blind, he apparently manages to not spend life in jail for committing four murders, and puts his infant son up for adoption (or maybe just leaves him on a random doorstep). Flash forward, and the son has grown up to be an ornithologist named Steve, and he and a bunch of his bird-loving buddies head into the middle of nowhere in search of The Obscure Woodpecker, where they meet the now-blind Vaughn, who, amazingly enough, is also an ornithologist. He gives them directions to the nearest zombie-infested swamp (hey -- ornithology's a dangerous hobby!), where they end up in the house from the opening sequence and get killed off one-by-one (by zombies, ghosts, and, I think, random special effects brought on by the roll of a die), until, at the last possible minute, Vaughn reappears to explain that he's responsible for the curse, and he's
I can't recommend these films enough. Bad acting by jaded Italian genre actors, bad dubbing by god-knows-who, multiple directors on at least two of the movies, random gore, gratuitous sex, and plots that could only have been conceived while the screenwriter was smoking a big-ass bowl of crack. Thanks to the recent Zombie Resurgence on the big screen, every crappy undead vehicle is getting a DVD release. For this price, the movies are almost fun enough to be worth it.