Terror reigns. Panic is everywhere. The dead are returning to life and no-one can explain why. In a remote wooden farmhouse seven people fight for their lives against ever-increasing numbers of flesh-eating ghouls. One by one they are whittled down until, in a memorable shock finale, only a lone hero remains, cowering in the cellar as legions of ravenous zombies run amok. As the sun rises, he cautiously emerges into the dawn… In 1968 a new breed of horror film erupted onto American movie screens. Vilified by critics and ignored by distributors on its release, George A. Romero’s tense, audacious, ground-breaking shocker ushered in a new era of raw modern horror. Rightly championed by fans around the world, it is now revered as a seminal cult classic – a quasi-expressionist celluloid nightmare and the Citizen Kane of the horror ’B’s.
“Who are these ghouls, who are these saviours, all of them so horrifying, so convincing, who mow down, defoliate and gobble up everything in their path? In the film a local TV station sends out a warning message: ‘The ghouls are ordinary people… but in a kind of trance.’ (Indeed, some of them are just little old ladies in tennis shoes and runny make-up.) many of these ordinary folk, in all the trance-like security of their ‘silent majority’ can be seen these days, afternoons at 2.30 and evenings at 8, clutching hard tickets and cramming their popcorn in front of a large Broadway screen where Fox’s Patton is doing landoffice business.” – Elliott Stein, Sight & Sound