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“Screaming Into Silence: Lori Cardille’s Sarah and the End of the World in Day of the Dead

29 Sunday Jun 2025

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40th Anniversary Retrospective

When people talk about Day of the Dead (1985), it’s often in terms of technical achievement—Tom Savini’s masterclass in practical gore, the feral intensity of Joseph Pilato’s Captain Rhodes, or Romero’s pessimistic descent into nihilism. But forty years on, what resonates most deeply is something quieter, more human. It’s Lori Cardille’s grounded, gut-punched performance as Sarah—the film’s reluctant anchor, emotional centre, and overlooked Final Girl of the apocalypse.

Sarah doesn’t scream her way through Romero’s third instalment. She endures. She negotiates with tyrants. She dissects corpses. She cries in silence. In a film drenched in testosterone and hopelessness, Cardille brings a quiet defiance that holds the chaos at bay—not with guns or bravado, but with composure. It’s not the scream queen trope we were sold in the ’80s. It’s something rarer: a portrait of strength amidst absolute collapse.

When I had the honour of interviewing Lori Cardille, what struck me most was her thoughtful insight into what Sarah represented. This wasn’t just another horror role—it was personal. Her father, Bill Cardille, had worked with Romero on Night of the Living Dead. She wasn’t entering a franchise; she was stepping into a legacy. And yet, rather than echo the past, she quietly redefined the role of the horror heroine for a world that had lost its mind.

Romero’s vision in Day of the Dead is arguably his bleakest. The world above is overrun, but it’s the bunker below that’s truly inhuman. Soldiers and scientists alike disintegrate into bickering, cruelty, and delusion. The infected may moan and lurch, but the real horror is watching people lose their grip on reason. In that nightmare, Sarah becomes the audience’s last tether to empathy. When she breaks, we break. When she fights, we cling to hope.

Cardille’s performance is far from showy. That’s its strength. She plays Sarah as someone on the edge of psychological exhaustion, pushing through trauma on pure nerve. She’s a survivor, yes, but also a witness—one who sees the whole of civilization unravel and still chooses, somehow, to believe in the possibility of something better. Her silence speaks volumes in a film where the men are always shouting.

The Prognosis:

It’s a shame that Day of the Dead was initially dismissed by some as the lesser of Romero’s original trilogy. Yes, it lacks the cultural revolution of Night and the satirical punch of Dawn, but it offers something more intimate: a portrait of what’s left when hope has withered. And at the centre of it is a woman trying not to scream, trying to build something in the ruins, trying to survive without becoming what she’s fighting against.

Forty years later, that feels more relevant than ever.

  • Saul Muerte

🎙 From the Vault: Lori Cardille on Becoming Sarah

“I didn’t see Sarah as a hero in the traditional sense. She was tired, she was holding on by a thread, and that’s what made her strong. She wasn’t there to be the last woman standing—she was there to try and hold something together while everything fell apart.”
— Lori Cardille, on portraying Sarah in Day of the Dead

In a genre often obsessed with scream queens and final girls who triumph in blood-soaked glory, Sarah survives not with a chainsaw or one-liner, but with focus, resolve, and fragility. Cardille’s portrayal elevates Day of the Dead into something more than just a bleak zombie flick—it becomes a meditation on holding onto your humanity when the world has long since lost its own.

Night of the Living Dead (1968) – A Genre-Defining Nightmare

01 Saturday Mar 2025

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Few horror films have had the seismic impact of George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968). A micro-budget, black-and-white nightmare, the film forever altered the portrayal of zombies in cinema and ushered in a new era of socially conscious horror. More than just an exercise in terror, Night of the Living Dead is a politically charged masterpiece that reflects the anxieties of its era while setting the foundation for the modern zombie genre.

Redefining the Undead

Before Night of the Living Dead, zombies in popular culture were largely tied to the voodoo mythos, as seen in films like White Zombie (1932) and I Walked with a Zombie (1943). Romero and co-writer John A. Russo stripped the concept down and rebuilt it into something far more terrifying: relentless, flesh-eating ghouls with no master to control them. These undead creatures, driven by an insatiable hunger, served as an unsettling mirror to the living, an idea that would be expanded upon in Romero’s later Dead films.

Political and Social Commentary

What sets Night of the Living Dead apart from many of its horror contemporaries is its deep well of social and political commentary. Though Romero often insisted that the casting of Duane Jones as Ben—the film’s intelligent, level-headed protagonist—was not an overt political statement, it was impossible to separate his presence from the racial tensions of the time. Ben’s ultimate fate, gunned down by a posse of white men who mistake him for a zombie, is a chilling echo of America’s violent racial history, particularly in the wake of the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X.

The film also taps into Cold War paranoia, with radio and television broadcasts offering conflicting theories about the zombie outbreak. The apocalyptic tone, coupled with government incompetence and misinformation, reflects the growing distrust in American institutions during the Vietnam War era. There is a sense of nihilism at play, where survival feels uncertain regardless of how rational or prepared one may be.

Themes of Fear and Isolation

At its core, Night of the Living Dead is a study in fear—both of the unknown and of each other. The film’s claustrophobic setting, a rural farmhouse besieged by the undead, intensifies the growing tensions among the survivors. Personal conflicts—embodied in the power struggle between Ben and the cowardly Harry Cooper (Karl Hardman)—highlight how, even in the face of an external horror, humanity’s greatest enemy may still be itself. The breakdown of cooperation and trust among the group underscores a bleak message: civilisation crumbles not just due to external threats, but because of internal divisions.

Legacy and Influence

Upon its release, Night of the Living Dead shocked audiences with its unflinching violence, nihilistic tone, and unorthodox approach to horror. While initially controversial—particularly due to its graphic scenes and bleak ending—it has since been recognised as a watershed moment in horror cinema. The film laid the groundwork for countless successors, from Romero’s own Dawn of the Dead (1978) to contemporary hits like The Walking Dead and 28 Days Later (2002).

More importantly, it demonstrated that horror could be both viscerally terrifying and intellectually stimulating, using the genre as a lens through which to examine societal issues. Over five decades later, Night of the Living Dead remains as haunting and relevant as ever, a grim reminder that the true horror lies not just in the monsters outside, but in the darkness within humanity itself.

  • Saul Muerte

Retrospective – The Crazies (1973)

16 Thursday Mar 2023

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A young brother and sister teasingly play together one evening when all of a sudden their father begins smashing up their living room with a crowbar and dousing it all in gasoline. The young girl rushes to her Mother, only to find her lying dead in bed. The house goes up in the flames and the opening credits begin. It has been fifty years since George A Romero’s The Crazies hit screens. Now sitting down to watch this film in a post-pandemic world there is certainly a strange element of familiarity here at times though certainly this is a much darker and bleaker imagining.

The pace of the first 20 minutes is rapid, from the opening scene that hooks you right in we’re introduced to our main characters, ex-green beret and volunteer fire-fighter, David and his wife, Judy, a local nurse. Both awoken in the night from calls for both of their professional assistance, David to the house fire and Judy to two children who have barely survived the arson of their home. Already the military has boots in the ground and quickly take control of the situation, we’re informed via an exposition dump montage as the various levels of military confer on the situation across locations; a military plane crash landed in the hills near this town, an experimental vaccine (we later learn bio-weapon) has leaked and found its way into the water supply. The goal is to maintain a quarantine of the town so that the virus does not spread further. The way that Romero injects so much energy into this set up is a little disorientating, it feels stylised yet authentic and immediately hooks us.

The Crazies was Romero’s third film post-Night of the Living Dead, (after There’s Always Vanilla & Hungry Wives) and truly feels like the spiritual successor to Night.  The film follows a group of townsfolk, bound together by happenstance, trying to survive a plethora of dangers: a virus that has leaked into their water supply, the infected Crazies violently causing destruction, the hazmat-suited soldiers trying to contain the outbreak and the uninfected townsfolk fighting against this forceful quarantine. The main theme of the film is a distrust of the government and the bureaucracy in charge of keeping us safe that will ultimately lead to more bloodshed. The shadow of the Vietnam War looms large here, we even have two of the main characters being vets, with one of them experiencing bursts of paranoid violence evoking wartime flashbacks thanks to the virus. The soldiers rush into peoples homes, dragging them out of bed, displacing them. A character even remarks that “this will feel like an invasion”. Romero has always passionately struck at the structures of power and control with his social commentary. It’s messily done here but the ambition and obvious talent gives this film a level of depth and interest that is utterly lacking in so many other grindhouse movies of the time.

The film truly feels like the stepping stone from Night to Dawn, the scale is sized up from a farmhouse to a whole town. The imagery of the hazmat suits is iconic and a deeply unsettling force that is often undercut by the ADR lines inserted for them, often comedic or mundane. The soldiers are mostly unaware of what they’re doing here and so there is some empathy built towards them. It’s the lines of communications, the unnecessary red-tape that ends up being the main villain of this film.

The Virus code-name Trixie, is initially reported to be an experimental vaccine that has been let loose, the truth is that it is a man-made bio-weapon, when infected the victim often becomes violent and acts straight-up coo-coo. This element is a lot of fun, giving us an old woman knitting happily while her husband is having an active shootout one room away, a priest setting himself on fire, and a father and adult daughter almost- Ok maybe FUN isn’t the right word. It gives us absurd and unsettling variety though, like the image of a bunch of infected townsfolk rushing violently towards the soldiers, accompanied by a woman that is just sweeping with a broom, unperturbed. It all lacks the clean and simple effect that we get from the Night of the Living Dead’s ghouls but when a character starts giggling at danger or acting a little goofy you start getting nervous. It’s interesting to think that if this film was more successful at the time Romero could’ve made Dawn of the Crazies, robbing us of the modern zombie genre but giving us something that would have been far wilder and weirder.

I had a lot of fun watching this but it does feel a little strung together. The initial impact wanes in the middle chunk with a few great impactful moments scattered towards the end, particularly with the main scientist desperately working towards a cure. It’s a fascinating piece of horror history and an important DNA strand for the zombie genre as we know it. The fans of Romero will find a lot to enjoy here, but it ultimately lacks the finesse and character depth that would elevate Dawn and Day of the Dead into crossover appeal. It’s an inventive grindhouse flick with the makings of greatness, and that is definitely something worth witnessing.

  • Oscar Jack

Further links:

Podcast: George A Romero’s The Crazies

Podcast: George A Romero’s Night of the Living Dead

Podcast: George A Romero’s Dawn of the Dead

Podcast: George A Romero’s Day of the Dead

Podcast: Lori Cardille interview

Movie review: Day of the Dead: Bloodline

11 Sunday Feb 2018

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I’m not sure what it is about the Day of the Dead storyline that jars so much.

On paper, it boasts an interesting premise of science vs state. Always at conflict in the real world and makes sense that they would come under close scrutiny when faced with a post apocalyptic world full of zombies.

Arguably though, it is the weakest movie from George A Romero’s original trilogy, and yet, it has now mastered two remakes, one released back in 2008 and one Day of the Dead: Bloodline tries to make its own mark on the subject, leaving many to ask, ‘what’s the point?’

The bones of the original film are still present, with an underground bunker containing some civilians reside under the rule of military personnel.

The changes are significant though. The first is a strangely confusing beginning marking the initial outbreak in a typical American street before taking us to a scientific laboratory to essentially show us the outbreak again, but from the viewpoint of lead character Zoe Parker (Sophie Skelton) a medical student who witnesses her friends and peers all wiped out as carnage ensues within the facility.

Before all this occurs though we are introduced to Max (Johnathon Schaech, a creepy patient who has a serious crush on Zoe, and in case you missed the heavy hint, also happens to have a mysterious blood type. Like that’s not gonna come back later.
Just as Max forces him myself in Zoe, the living dead make their entrance, forcing Zoe to go from one ordeal to another.

Both of her worlds will collide again though, as we pick up our story again as we time jump to a few years down the track, where Zoe lives in the afore-mentioned bunker, and formed a relationship with Baca, the younger brother to the Lieutenant running the military outfit, Miguel.
Cue conflict both internally and externally.

It is on a medicinal run back to the laboratory when their troubles really begin as Max who has somehow partially survived, becoming both walking zombie and human, (essentially this version’s Bub) and perhaps the answer to their salvation.

Of course it won’t go swimmingly for the survivors, but by this point everything feels so bland and blah, blah, blah, that we have gone beyond the point of caring.

Schaech gives a decent performance as the ‘villain’ of the piece, but the one small thread that we can hang onto is that Skelton actually gives a solid performance as Zoe, and this keeps you intrigued enough to push you towards the films conclusion, but just barely.

The Diagnosis:
It’s a fairly stable effort, but neither diminishes or improves upon the original film. Characters are two-dimensional and the plot line is weak, leaving you ultimately back to your original thought… what’s the point.

 

  • Saul Muerte