Dead Alive

My ex-girlfriend Julie and I had a Halloween party in 2003. We invited some of my friends from the Daily News, where I did my grad assistantship and wrote columns. We never had many parties, so we really wanted everybody to have a good time.

We planned to watch Halloween III: Season of the Witch as our jokey, ironic film of the night. That turned out to be a terrible choice — I'd never seen the film, and not long after putting it on, we realized the film was too terrible to ridicule. Our guests were bored.

We had ourselves a full-on party emergency. I had to do something.

So I declared a Mulligan, stopped Halloween III, and put on Peter Jackson's infamous Dead Alive.

Half the folks at the party had never heard of the film, and thankfully, they played along. They had no idea what was coming. I knew the feeling.

Three years previously, my roommate Justin, with whom I lived in Ohio when I was in grad school, put on the film after giving me the requisite blank stares and high-pitched "You've never seen Dead Alive?!?!"

Before the Lord of the Rings films, Peter Jackson made disgusting B-horror films. Dead Alive is the greatest of all. This film has so much gore, so much blood, so many guts...if I weren't laughing, I'd probably throw up.

Justin and I sat on the couch. I made horrified faces while Justin laughed at me.

I had to own this film.

Three years later, Julie and I averted a party disaster. Our friend Mouse lounged on the floor in front of the television and was rolling around laughing. Our friend Stephen didn't know what hit him. Most of our guests were howling.

Why?

At one point in Dead Alive, two zombies fornicate and give birth to a zombie baby. The protagonist takes the zombie baby to the park (why?), and when the baby acts up, our protagonist punches the zombie baby in the face and beats the baby against a swingset.

Later in the film, the disembodied, yet anthropomorphized gastrointestinal tract of a zombie attacks our protagonist like a squid with a farting tentacle.

Tell me that's not cinematic glory!

And I haven't even mentioned the lawnmower bit, which you just have to watch to believe.

I like to think all of our guests walked away forever changed.

As for me, I left the room to put on my costume — sometimes I dress up as local horror movie icon Sammy Terry. The garb consists of a lot of face paint, and that took longer than I thought.

I'd seen the film before, so I didn't think I'd miss much. Unfortunately, I missed about the last 45 minutes — and my guests' reactions.

The whole time I was putting on the costume, I could hear everyone laughing in the front room. To this day, I'm not sure why I spent so much time on the makeup, or why that was more important than the people who came over. I do a lot of dumb shit.

After Dead Alive, a few people wandered to the back of the apartment. Some remarked that I looked a little like a mime. A few others just said an awkward goodbye and left.

We never had another Halloween party.

Yeah, I did have great makeup that night. But at what cost? I felt terrible. I regret not spending more time with everybody who came over.

If there's any solace to be had, the expressions I've imagined all these years are pretty amazing. And now, every time I watch Dead Alive, I wonder.