The 2018 Japanese Film Festival Australia: ONE CUT FOR THE DEAD

Directly or indirectly, zombies have been one of cinema’s favourite creatures since the earliest days, kicking off with the dead-eyed voodoo creepers from 1932’s White Zombie (now a popular public domain title). After the massive boom of the early naughts, which saw The Walking Dead, Shaun of the Dead and a ton of other movies, TV Shows and pop culture paraphernalia infested by zombie mythology, the genre has definitely decelerated.

It was bound to happen (just look at the state of vampire films in the wake of their short-lived Twilight-inspired revitalisation), as everything received the zombie treatment; rom-coms, found footage and even Disney Channel original movies, so there was an air of caution when I heard the premise for Shinichirou Ueda’s micro-budget hit One Cut of the Dead (as even using a “of the Dead” title seems dated at this point). Thankfully, this inventive comedy isn’t interested in making another amateur zombie film – its characters are – but rather it’s more focused on the people who make them, told through the dynamic blend of Living in Oblivion and Diary of the Dead.

Not Another Zombie Movie

The film opens in the way we expect from its rudimentary title; a goofy, no frills found footage affair about the crew of an independent zombie movie who, in an ironic twist, are attacked by the actual walking dead. Narratively, it presents nothing new (the main actress goes from shy to savage and the aggressive director tries to capture the developing chaos for its authenticity), but what is immediately impressive is that its captured in one 40 minute take, taking us from the initial outbreak to the inevitable final girl moment of blood-splattering triumph.

Then the credits start – but surely this can’t be it? any reasonable audience member would ask, but this is when the film really begins – we cut back to several months earlier and it switches from found footage to a conventional look whilst we learn how the one-take wonder we just watched came to be. Ambitious commercial director Higurashi (a star-making debut performance from Takayuki Hamatsu) is tapped by a developing horror TV channel (think SyFy or Starz) to orchestrate a single take zombie film that will be aired live, which is obviously no easy task for even the most seasoned professional.

Just looking at the recent Netflix series of Maniac and Daredevil or even David Gordon Green’s new Halloween entry tells us that one-take scenes are the hip new cinematic gimmick now, taking over from the excessive and often-ponderous use of drone footage, similar to how zombies overthrew vampires as the go-to genre icons of modern pop culture.

With the help of his supportive wife Nao (Harumi Shuhama), Higurashi sets out to make the best film he can, navigating problems of melodramatic actors, flirting co-stars, indisposed crew members and the general anxiety of perfecting every story beat before the big day arrives. This middle section might seem mildly didactic and slower compared to its surrounding acts, buts its necessary in setting up the genius finale, which sees the first 40 minutes re-examined from the other side of the camera, revealing what really went down behind the scenes.

Time For Fun

Ueda takes the cliches of the genres on which he draws on and enthusiastically has fun with them, utilising them rather than parodying or moderating them down into another self-aware pastiche that a high-concept premise like this could’ve easily become. Over and over again he draws upon our collective cinematic memory of the zombie genre, as those well versed in these types of films will find great pleasure in how his screenplay touches upon every recognisable trope without irony: the final girl, the reluctance to say the word “zombie”, in-fighting within the dysfunctional survivors group, the reluctance to kill ‘turned’ loved ones and even the speculation as to what caused the initial uprising (the excuse this time is imagined to be a cursed power plant).

As the surprises of the film’s second half reveal themselves, it becomes an incredibly fun ride, balancing a slapstick comedy about a film production gone wrong alongside a multitude of clever payoffs to every story beat/character choice we witnessed in the beginning. It’s quite the fete to be repeatedly impressed by two halves of a film that are so aesthetically and narratively opposed, but also compliment each other so perfectly – this is totally a movie that demands an immediate re-watch once finished.

Despite these elements, the film never winks at the audience or tries to denounce the difficult nature of low budget horror filmmaking, rather the opposite, this is an encouraging, feel good celebration of the hard work that goes into making any film, big or small, a tribute to independent artists who fight tooth and nail against every limitation to bring new art into the world. This is a struggle that I imagine, in another meta twist, Ueda must’ve gone through to make One Cut of the Dead, and luckily as we can see, it was well worth the effort.

One Cut of the Dead: Conclusion

In a time where two separate Pinocchio productions have been announced, it helps to have films like One Cut of the Dead remind us that even though some ideas might sound generic or overworked, it’s ultimately up to the execution. With just a measly sum of $27,000, Japanese filmmaker Shinichirou Ueda, in the eight days it took to write, shoot and edit this film, has shown more creativity and invention than most directors with 1,000 times the budget have ever exhibited in their entire careers (hello Paul W. S. Anderson) – to prove that despite its recent slump, the undead ain’t quite dead just yet.

What are your thoughts on the zombie film genre? Tell us your thoughts in the comments below! 

One Cut of the Dead is currently playing in the Japanese Film Festival Australia, information about times and tickets can be found here. The film is due to have a UK and US theatrical release via Third Window Films early 2019.