An island off the coast of Delaware. Two clans of indigenous, pre-contamination and the zombie invasion, did not have the same vision of life and, later, differ on how to treat their dead (the first eradicate, the second tie them to their old habits). A nice small group composed of former military survivors of Diary of the Dead and a teenager who landed on this island with the intention of finding calm and greenery. And for the girl of the lot to find shoes to his feet. Or more accurately caresses her female sex victim of too much solitude. Weak screenplay and visual latest Romero would be sufficient to taint our unflagging serious interest in his remarks on apocalyptic humanity, or our eternal affection for his zombies, they were fewer deaths and more alive. So increasingly voracious and humans, this is not Romero's eyes a sign or indication of quality and intelligence. If as usual the filmmaker finds its hero adventure survivors on a breakaway, the final image shows a duel zombie who grabbed him by his pessimism on the evolution of the living dead: a zombified remains a con con. Better, two con zombified perpetuate indefinitely without violence winner or outcome. And when there will be more alive to eat on Earth, or at least accessible, we expect that in his next opus, Romero concludes his film on inter-meal zombies. A development which will not please our old friends Bub and Big Daddy.
