Growing up is a painful process, one that we often undergo unwillingly.
Can you blame anybody? Being a grown-up with taxes to pay and responsibilities to uphold doesn’t exactly seem like a fun time when you’re a kid. Think about how the gig is sold to you when you’re a kid! How many miserable adults did you see at family gatherings or at schools? How many of the Saturday morning cartoon blocks you watched were built around the idea that adults are boring idiots who cannot be trusted? Why in the world would you want to give up the cush life of a child for the shackles of drab adulthood?
But…due to the linear nature of time, we have no choice. We become adults all the same. However, acting like it is fairly voluntary. Just because you have the body of a thirty-year old doesn’t mean you have to act like one. So many of us just walk around in perpetual arrested development, and to be clear: some of us are legitimately doing it out of laziness. However, many others retreat from Growing Up out of fear of having to change, of having to leave behind a former version of yourself in order to step into an unknown new version.
Because that’s the real fear, right? “Even if I don’t like how I am, I’m comfortable. What if I strain and stretch to change myself and I become someone new that I like even less?” It doesn’t matter how miserable you are at the moment, or find yourself caught in the same patterns, surrounded by the same aimless people….the idea of change is somehow always even worse.
Of course, that change will usually come to you anyway, no matter how hard you try to stay a child. Maybe it’ll come with some sort of devastating accident that befalls you or a friend. Maybe it’s dealing with the deaths of your loved ones, say a parent or two. Maybe it’s a miserable breakup with someone who you loved, but never knew how to tell them. If you’re incredibly unlucky, these events can all intersect, happening simultaneously and daring you to breathe. Even if just one, though, you will become a different person on the other side of it. No matter what.
Oh, and on top of everything else: what if you all of a sudden had to fight and kill a bunch of zombies?
SHAUN OF THE DEAD (2004)
Directed by: Edgar Wright
Starring: Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Kate Ashfield, Lucy Davis, Dylan Moran, Bill Nighy
Written by: Wright, Pegg
Released: September 24, 2004
Length: 99 minutes
SHAUN OF THE DEAD tells the tale of a loser named…uh, Shaun (Pegg), a guy rapidly approaching his thirties and stuck in his dead-end sales advisor job at a vaguely run-down electronics store, where he somehow finds himself the senior member of a staff made up of half-listening post-teens. He is holding onto his relationship with his beloved Liz (Ashfield) by the tiniest of threads, and is also struggling to reconcile his feelings about his mother and stepdad (Nighy). Just about the only thing he has that resembles a rock is his longtime friend Ed (Frost), who’s always there at the flat they share together, on the couch ready to play a videogame or two.
Naturally, everyone else in Shaun’s life hates Ed. He’s going nowhere, unemployed, maybe unemployable. He’s just kind of…there, happy to be floating right next to Shaun, and Shaun next to him, always at their beloved pub, the Winchester. And this represents a problem; if you’re a guy who desperately needs to make a change, and he almost exclusively spends his time around a guy who’s content to never change…what happens?
Well, in Shaun’s case, he blows his big anniversary date and Liz drops him like a bad habit. And as he and Ed head to the Winchester to drink away Shaun’s pain, there’s a zombie apocalypse happening right under their noses…
In some ways, the premise of SHAUN OF THE DEAD is timeless. Not just because the more-harrowing-than-they-needed-to-be scenes of people collapsing in the streets or succumbing to zombie-induced psychosis hit home hard in a post-pandemic world, but because I think most guys* can relate to that feeling of just kind of wandering through life. Technically employed, technically housed and debt-free, technically in a relationship, but just kind of floating around, waiting for something to happen. So lost in your own head and world that you miss the awful thing happening right in front of you.
*It’s undeniable that girls have their own variations of the slacker disease. I just don’t feel qualified to comment on that experience, for reasons that are probably obvious.
This feeling is the central thrust of one of the first big joke centerpieces in the movie, a pair of one-ers, following Shaun sleepily walking from his flat to the convenience store across the street to pick up an ice cream cone and a Coca-Cola, as he passes by a playing child and a homeless guy. The first time we see this, it’s a fairly routine journey. The second time, however, we see him on his route post-zombie apocalypse and, more importantly (at least for Shaun), post-breakup. What’s striking about the juxtaposition between the two scenes aren’t what is immediately different about them (primarily, the fact that people lie dead in the street, the store has clearly been through some sort of violent trauma, and the homeless guy is a zombie), but what is immediately the same. In both, Shaun feels barely engaged with what is front of him. Besides the choice to go with the Diet Coke the second time, Shaun doesn’t do anything different at all.
It’s a wonderful, immensely-relatable visual joke, the kind of thing that Edgar Wright can do in his sleep. Admittedly, there are some worrying signs that Wright may be starting to lose his fastball in recent years; last year’s remake of THE RUNNING MAN had a fun leading man in Glen Powell, and stayed zippy throughout its runtime, but it felt like it lacked all the playfulness and creativity we associate with an Edgar Wright film. Remember how colorful and energetic SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD felt? Or how it felt watching BABY DRIVER’s weaving of action and music the first time (even as it assembled maybe the single most cancelled cast of the 21st century)?
Well, rewatching SHAUN OF THE DEAD serves as a reminder of all of Wright’s strengths and talents. Hell, he even does the music/action sequence thing here a decade before BABY DRIVER; one of the best scenes in the whole film is when Shaun, Ed, and Liz begin whacking pool cues across the back of a zombie, all to the tune of Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now”. It’s a moment so good that Brian May himself gave it its praise.
The whole movie has this kind of lightness, which is a thrilling tone to take when considering the movie is about a pending zombie apocalypse. It helps that Shaun and Ed aren’t bothered by much. Consider the moment where it finally, finally clicks that something is horribly wrong. It’s not the moment where they notice a strange woman in their backyard; it’s not just that she appears drunk or zooted out on something. It takes the woman to hop on top of Shaun to try to bite him and, even then, Ed’s first thought is to grab a camera and take a picture. Hell, even when they figure out that they need to hit zombies in the head with Shaun’s record collection, Shaun’s biggest concern is which record to use (“Sign of the Times”, no; The “Batman” soundtrack, yes.)
And, yeah, the source of the comedy is obvious; it’s funny to see people be so relatively chill in the face of mortal danger. But…it’s also relatable. If the zombie apocalypse occurred when I was 22, when I was at my most aimless and moment-oriented, I can’t guarantee my friends and I would be much more useful in a crisis as Ed and Shaun are. It cuts to the heart of the movie’s theme: even when given an intense set of circumstances (the collapse of a relationship, a dead-end job, and a zombie apocalypse), change doesn’t just happen. It has to be a choice.
———
Besides Pegg and Frost, the whole movie is filled with familiar British faces, all seemingly doing what they do best. Peter Serafinowicz is pitch-perfect as Pete, Sjhaun and Ed’s wound-up, heavily employed roommate who probably has the most realistic reaction to living with a pair of man-children playing hip-hop records at 4 in the morning (righteous indignation). Dylan Moran expertly plays the extremely unlikable David, Liz’s dear friend who seems to hate Shaun. Like…really, really hate Shaun to an unreasonable degree. Bill Nighy is out-of-this-world good as Shaun’s estranged stepfather, who also seems to fucking hate Shaun, although the eventual reveal as to why he’s so tough on him is kind of heartbreaking. Special mention has to be given to Penelope Wilton as Shaun’s mother. Her whole performance straddles this fine line of “is she just syrupy-sweet or is there something actively off about her?” that just makes you want to grab her hand and lead her to safety.
Everyone’s so good in this movie. That said, I think the secret sauce to SHAUN OF THE DEAD may be Lucy Davis.
I was a big fan of the original U.K. OFFICE (yeah, I was one of those kids), so I’ve been fond of Lucy Davis for decades now. Setting the original template for the ennui-laden office template that Jenna Fischer would later run with and make her own, her and Martin Freeman* made for the perfect pair of anxious would-be lovers to offset Ricky Gervais’ cringey buffoonery.
*Who also appears in SHAUN OF THE DEAD, albeit briefly as part of my favorite running joke in the movie, the recurring parallel band of survivors led by Shaun’s friend Yvonne.
Davis would continue to keep popping up in unexpected things for me stateside after that, whether it be in weird kiddie fare like GARFIELD: A TALE OF TWO KITTIES, or in superhero blockbusters like WONDER WOMAN (I have long maintained the middle section where it’s just her, Gal Gadot, and Chris Pine running around old-timey London is far and away the best part of that particular DC entry). And, then of course, there’s SHAUN OF THE DEAD, which happened right in the wake of her OFFICE success.
Here, she plays Dianne, David’s girlfriend, Liz’s housemate and a core part of her friend group. Oh, and it should be noted that she’s an aspiring actress. When the bottom falls out with Liz and Shaun, Dianne and David are there to support her and, more importantly, to tell Shaun to fuck off. When the zombie outbreak is unleashed, however, and Shaun and Liz’s groups have to forge an uneasy alliance in order to survive, Dianne eventually finds her chance to shine.
There’s a crucial moment where they arrive at the Winchester, only to find that it’s surrounded by an unmanageable amount of zombies. There appears to be no way through. But, then Dianne steps in. It’s time for her to use her acting training to save the day. In a moment I’ve always found really memorable, she uses acting techniques to teach everyone how to moan and shuffle like zombies, so that they all may infiltrate the horde and slip into the Winchester unnoticed.
It’s great, not just because it’s inherently funny whenever anyone uses acting in a movie to achieve a desired result, but because it’s an example of a character in SHAUN OF THE DEAD rising up in extraordinary circumstances in order to be more than what she was before.
Tracking which characters rise, and which ones stubbornly remain the same, is ultimately the most thrilling thing about SHAUN OF THE DEAD. It’s Shaun’s whole thing. The night of the zombie outbreak, he drunkenly comes up with three goals for his future: Go ‘round mum’s. Get Liz back. Sort life out. By the end of the crisis, he’s technically gotten all three accomplished (he does indeed go ‘round Mum’s).
And the thing about Shaun’s arc is that there’s no real secret as to why he’s able to step up and lead this group of people that all kind of hate each other through this extraordinary crisis. It’s not established that he’s steeped in zombie lore, or even all that adept with a weapon that isn’t generated by a video game. He just…kinda wants it. He wants to stave off the zombie. He wants to figure out how to get across town, save his mom and Liz and keep everybody safe.
He sets a trio of life goals and follows through even though the craziest thing that’s ever happened in the entire world has occurred. It’s more important for him to get his life together than it is to fold. So he does.
Compare him to someone who stays stubbornly the same. Someone like David, the contemptible, hateable David. We start off on his side, as he reasonably gives Shaun crap for blowing his anniversary date with Liz. He’s a pitbull, and given what a fuckup Shaun is at the beginning, you don’t blame him.
But as Shaun reveals a more heroic side of himself, David just never lets up, never giving him any credit for a second. In fact, he actively undermines him at a crucial moment: while Shaun tries to hash out with the group the best way to enter the apparently-locked Winchester, David decides to throw a rock into one of the windows, immediately making the space completely unsafe. His excuse for the poor decision? Nobody else was doing anything. It causes Shaun to have to step up even further, running off as bait to distract the zombies and allow everyone else to enter safely.
Of course, the source of all the animosity is later revealed: he’s secretly in love with Liz and has always resented Shaun for it. Understandable, I suppose, but proof that he isn’t able to set aside petty differences in a crisis. The cost winds up being his own life: he gets more of the more graphic and disturbing deaths in the entire film, being disemboweled and eaten by a swarm of zombies. And honestly, good. Fuck you, David.
More lovable is Ed, the eternal avatar of the friend that we really should have cut bait with ten years ago. He’s not employed in any observable way, he barely listens when you tell him to do something, he’s more comfortable playing video games than he is paying rent. But…he’s good company. He allows you to hold onto that inner child, because that’s all he is. He gets his hero moments throughout the movie, but they almost happen by accident. Pure responsibility-free joy is the only thing he offers, and he doesn’t even seem particularly ashamed. It’s part of the fun.
So it matters that, the more Shaun steps up and facilitates everyone’s safety and escapes, the more of a liability Ed becomes. Compare an early scene, where Shaun seems legitimately more comfortable sitting around smelling Ed’s farts than he is making reservations for his anniversary dinner, to a crucial scene towards the movie’s climax, as Shaun unloads on his lifelong friend after Ed stupidly takes a phone call in plain view of the hungry zombies:
“I’ve spent a lifetime sticking my neck out for you, you idiot and all you ever do is fuck things up. Fuck things up and make me look stupid. Well, I’m not going to let you do it. Not today.”
Harsh words and truthful ones, although we feel so kindly to Ed that we still feel like Shaun’s being unfair somehow. But it’s an important moment for Shaun, the moment he finally “grows up” and tells Ed something he’s probably known for a long time: he’s holding him back. It’s great to be an eternal child, but when it comes to a life-and-death situation, being an adult becomes really fucking important, it turns out.
The thing is, Nick Frost doesn’t make this an easy call! Ed is a ton of fun, with a pretty great monkey impression in his back pocket, as well as an eternal ability to have your back. Why wouldn’t you want to hang out with him? But sever ties Shaun must, if he wants any chance to keep himself and his friends alive. Interestingly, in a movie where he has to shoot his own mother, laying into Ed is perhaps the most consequential thing Shaun does the whole movie. It’s what allows him to make a potential sacrifice play by having the zombies chase him, to allow him to return, to even use Ed as an asset, taking his idea to light the alcohol on fire to heart. He’s finally said what’s so oppressive about Ed, so now he can use what’s so wonderful and creative about him.
Ed, it turns out, is so chill that he even seems okay with staying behind to succumb to a zombie bite. As the military arrives to kill off the hordes and protect the survivors, we are left to assume that Ed has perished. So it makes it all the more charming when we reach the movie’s final punchline, as months pass, Shaun and Liz rekindle their love and move in together, and all seems to be well. He has successfully grown up, having sorted his life out.
Shaun excuses himself to step into the garden.
In the garden is a shed, where Ed is chained up, a video game controller ready to go. Shaun and Ed play for a bit.
This speaks to the number one reason to get your life sorted out. It allows you to still engage with that inner child.
At least for a couple of minutes.