"Life is but a Dream": A Review of AMC's "The Prisoner"

(Yes, spoilers abound!)

"Remake The Prisoner? Sure... and why not add a few brush strokes to the Mona Lisa while you're at it!"

(- cartoon I recall in an old "Starlog" magazine)


The idea of a "re visioning" of the 1960s cult classic "The Prisoner" has been tossed around for many years but the American network AMC has finally gone & done it! Between Nov 15 - 17, AMC returned us to "The Village", taking some baffling detours along the way.


The new mini-series consisted of six episodes, each named after an episode of the original series (often a misleading misnomer, as we'll discuss later). As with the original, the first episode is entitled "Arrival". We're presented with a man whom we know little about but learn that he has acrimoniously resigned from his job. (Why does he feel the need to spray paint "resign" on his office window? Why does he have a can of spray paint in his desk? But I digress...) In the "classic" series, our main character (as created and portrayed by Patrick McGoohan) was mostly an "unknown": we never knew what his job was, who he worked for, or why he resigned. In fact, we never knew his name -- lending credence to the idea that he is an "everyman". He could be anyone.. a stand-in for you or me. In the remake, we gradually learn our man (portrayed by Jim Caveizel) is named "Michael", he's a single guy living in an apartment in New York City, and he works for a company called Summakor where his job is monitoring surveillance footage from CCTs (closed circuit televisions), looking for patterns in human behaviour. Does that sound like he could be you? No, me neither. Let's continue.


Michael awakes in a desert. Not knowing where he is or how he got there, he finds "The Village", where the citizens have numbers not names and lead quietly contented lives, wallowing in blissful ignorance and seemingly lorded over by a mysterious control freak named "2" (played by a doddering Ian McKellan). Our man is christened "6" and learns that he is to remain a permanent resident there. 6 learns that anyone who believes there is anything beyond The Village is called a "Dreamer" (...because they usually have dreams about it at night. Duh!) Whereas The Village of the old series was rife with overt propaganda & brainwashing, the new Village feels like a caricature of suburbia where everyone just watches soap operas & eats nothing but wrap sandwiches and cake. The Villagers seem less sinister, and more like village idiots.

There's a defining moment in "Arrival" that effectively illustrates the difference between McGoohan's & Caveizel's "6". Upon arriving in the desert, the remake 6 witnesses a man being shot by some pursuers. Faced with this scenario, McGoohan's 6 would have seethed with outrage and then burst into action. Caveizel's character cries. In my opinion, this is NOT the same character and AMC would have been wise to give their new character a different number. To call him "6" suggests this is the same man. Clearly he is not. Even his Lotus 7 has been down-graded to a Subaru hatch-back. Seriously. They are not even playing in the same league!

The mystery continues in the 2nd episode, "Harmony". The title gave me false hope, as it alludes to one of my favourite episodes from the original series. "Living in Harmony" was a brilliant spaghetti Western story about a sheriff (6) who tries to bring justice to a corrupt town while refusing to carry a gun. In the remake "Harmony" is about how a fellow named 16 pretends to be 6's brother and the two of them drive a tour bus together. Hm. Next.

Things get back on track a bit in "Anvil". In the original series "Hammer Into Anvil", 6 plays a brilliant game of psychological "cat & mouse", playing on the paranoia of 2 and eventually bringing about his downfall. In the remake, 6 is recruited as part of the "Underground"; a covert network of spies. No one really seems to know who is spying on whom... and it doesn't really matter because in The Village children are trained in school how to spy on each other, so basically everyone watches everyone all the time. As it turns out, 909, who is 6's partner in the spy game, is (surprise surprise!) spying on him! Oh, and 909 is also having an affair with 2's son, 1112. Later, 1112 will murder 909. Why? Meh. Does it really matter? Ok... um... because death is the only way to escape The Village. And I should mention that along the way, 6 gets a couple of love interests himself: a mentally unstable doctor named 313 and a blind girl named 415 (whom he slept with back in NYC, but that was another life.)

Speaking of 1112, let's digress a bit & talk about the "2" family since this becomes the main crux of the whole series. 2's wife (whom I don't think actually has a number of her own) lives in a comatose state, presumably created by the 3 pills that her hubby shoves down her throat everyday. We're told one pill is a sedative, one pill is a hallucinogen and the third pill... well supposedly does something else. At this point, let's just throw the mother of all spoilers out there, shall we? 2's wife "dreams" the Village. It's her own psychological "utopia" that they're all living in. And yes, you guessed it... 2 (whose real name is Curtis) & wife run the Summakor corporation. So, Summakor watches people via CCT, and if you exhibit any unfavourable psychological traits, you're sent to "The Village" for rehabilitation. The problem is, Curtis/2's wife can't sustain the dream. When she wakes up, "holes" appear in the Village (literally, sink holes in the sand) and the holes lead to oblivion & death (honest). So Mrs. 2 needs a replacement. What a happy coincidence that Michael/6 turned up. And he also has a mentally unstable mate! Hmm...

It really is difficult to explain what goes on in most of the show. Taking a nod from "Lost", the plot doesn't advance in a linear way. Events are shown out of sequence. It's only when we learn more about Summakor that we see synchronicity between events in The Village and events in New York. The Prisoner always did raise more questions than it answered, but the remake gets very confusing at times. The end, however, ties everything up into a neat little package. I really don't need to tell you what happens as I'm sure your mind has already said "it must be... but that's too obvious & stupid". Well, yes that is what happens.

To me, the original The Prisoner could always be interpreted on 2 levels. On the one hand, it's a story of "man vs society". The individual against the collective. It represents a Kafka-esque struggle for the right of an individual to remain individual. On another level, the show was an allegory of the conflict of "man vs himself". A person who explored their own subconscious to understand why they've made certain choices in their life ("why did you resign?") and why they believe in their own convictions. This is why at the end of the original series, it's revealed that the mysterious "Number 1" who has been controlling things is in fact 6 himself (... albeit in a monkey mask!). In this context, the remake makes no sense. If I create constructs in my own mind, I can live in it. This makes sense on a metaphorical level and a common sense level. In the remake, The Village is a construct of 2's wife -- it takes a huge leap of faith and science fiction to accept that anyone else vacations in her head.

In conclusion: It's my opinion that if you're going to "reinvent the wheel" then completely reinvent it. Give us a completely new story with completely new characters. If you're going to just "re-do" something, then make it worth doing. Be faithful to the original but "value add" something to it. (eg. give us some "deleted" scenes, more back story, improve the f/x, build characterization.) To do any less is just a bastardization of the original.

As they say in The Village, "A still tongue makes a quiet life" so I'll end here. Be seeing you.

Lately I've been into...

Currently reading:

"World War Z" - Max Brooks

There's been a bit of hype about "World War Z" (and zombies in general, as discussed here previously), so when I found a used copy for cheap I thought I'd check it out. That was way back in September and I'm still trying to slough through it. I'm having a weird relationship with this book: sometimes I pick it up & have a hard time getting through a chapter. Other times I get really "into" it & dig it. Suffice to say it's not great "literature". My biggest complaint about it is that although it's an interesting concept, it's not great writing. Let me qualify that: "logistically" and "technically" it's really good. It has a great concept and the story is quite ambitious. All the individual "threads" tie together nicely and it seems like the author did a lot of research (scientific, military, political) to make the whole zombie pandemic thing seem plausible. My complaint is largely that although every chapter is supposed to be "spoken" by ethnically and geographically diverse characters, to me, they all have the same literary "voice". Maybe I'm just expecting too much. It is just horror fantasy, and admittedly I'm not even finished it yet. Damn all those undergrad English lit courses I took for inhibiting my enjoyment of pulp fiction! I keep looking for symbolism and meaning instead of just entertainment!



And now having just poo-pooed on "pulp" fiction....


"Concrete" - Paul Chadwick

The editions I'm reading are not the same as pictured here, but I've been devouring volumes of Paul Chadwick's "Concrete" comics. If you're not familiar with the series, here it is in a nutshell: These are the adventures of Concrete, formerly political speech writer Ron Lithgow, whose brain is transplanted by aliens into a massive clay-like and seemingly indestructible body. Concrete is a sensitive, introspective fellow who attempts to "make lemonade" from the lemons he's been handed, and embarks on extraordinary globe-trotting adventures (eg., climbing Mt Everest solo, swimming across the Atlantic ocean, etc.), or sometimes just use his new abilities to help out people in need. Problem is there are always complications. In lesser hands, this premise would invite heavy handed slapstick, but what Chadwick gives us is just the opposite. In the style of what's good about "indie" comics, it's done in a touching, sometimes philosophic, and ever so "human" way. Another thing that appeals to me is that it's just so 1980s America. Get your hands on a copy & see what I mean. My only complaint: I am baffled as to how Concrete's assistant Larry Munro manges to score so much tail...

Currently listening to:

To be honest, I've been kind of "off" music lately.

I'm bored with my old music collection right now (I still love it mind you, just bored) and haven't found anything new that's piqued my interest. The only "current" band that I'm digging these days is Death Cab for Cutie. But as much as I like them, I really need to be a certain mood or frame of mind to listen to them because my gawd they can depress me! And yes, I'm a Morrissey/Smiths fan from way back, so I am fond of melancholy pop!

On a related note: Why do people take their taste in music so personally? Why do people take pop music so seriously? Is it because when they listen to their earphones, the music becomes the voice in their head, in essence "their" voice and it incorporates into their personality? Seriously, let's discuss this! I'd like to hear your thoughts on this.

Well, anyway, as a result, I've been listening to "talk radio" more and more. And yes, most of it is really bad. Most radio phone-in shows seem to be an open forum for the ignorant and ill-informed to shoot their mouths off. Beyond that, you do occasionally learn some interesting things, mostly from science programs. But again, news and current affairs are depressing too.

My plan for this winter is to become a real homebody. Recently we moved the tv out of the room that was originally earmarked as mine, and I've starting setting it up as my drawing studio/projects room. Hopefully I can get some time & concentration in the coming months & start working on some arts & crafts. I feel better when I'm producing something but sometimes I just seem to lack the inspiration or the focus. There are so many distractions. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a little ADHD...

Come & get candy!

Halloween is the greatest holiday. No gifts to buy. No fussy dinners or awkward get-togethers. No stress.

Just show up & get candy. Perfect.

To clump or not to clump? That is the question.

We recently adopted a furry bundle of joy. She's a beautiful "F3 Savannah" cat (yup, one of those fancy designer hybrid breeds) and she's awfully sweet. My father-in-law remarked that she's "not neurotic" and I think he's right: this is the nicest, most sane pet I've ever owned... which seriously calls that whole "pets are like their owners" maxim into question. We have yet to find any bad habits or annoying personality quirks in her (well, apart from being a serious bed hog!). This is the first pet my husband & I have had together, and really the first time either of us has had responsibility for an animal (having only ever had "family pets" growing up... where you get all the perks and very little of the day-to-day responsibility for it). To date, we haven't even been able to sufficiently care for a plant, so we fear that we will bungle looking after a higher life form. As a result, we're quickly becoming fretful parents.

One of the first "red flags" for us has been the issue of kitty litter. Yes, I'm going to talk about the "unmentionables". As you may be aware, there is some controversy among cat owners as to the safety of "clumping" cat litter. These are the clay-based, scoopable litters that are widely available & probably the most commonly used today. I should preface by saying that as far as I can tell all arguments for or against clumping kitty litter are still theoretical: no one has yet done a scientific study on the safety of it. Whether or not you believe the clumping kitty litter is safe or not is entirely up to you at this point.

The problem with these litters concerns the chemicals that make the litter clump: sodium bentonite and quartz silica.

For starters, quartz silica is said to be carcinogenic to humans and possibly to animals too. If you've ever noticed how dusty it becomes when you are changing the litter, or when kitty is scratching around in it, you see the problem. The dust quickly spreads through the air, can be breathed in and of course, it is likely to attach itself to the cat's paws and settle on its fur where it could be ingested through grooming. Our cat has 2 litter boxes: one in each bathroom in our house. One of those bathrooms is next to our bedroom -- so effectively we would be breathing in this dust every night as we sleep. Before I was aware of the chemicals in the litter, I noticed the dust was irritating me. Knowing that it could be carcinogenic gives me the jibblies.

The second, and seemingly more common argument against clumping litter concerns Sodium bentonite. Sodium bentonite is an absorbent material that swells when wet, sometimes swelling 15 to 18 times in size. Some pet owners fear that this could be disastrous (potentially fatal) for animals if the pet were to ingest it. Again, this would primarily be by sticking to the feet of the cat and then the cat grooming its feet. Personally, I'm not quite as worried about this as I am about the carcinogens, but I have noticed our fur-baby's feet looking a bit white & dusty sometimes so it is a concern.

Our solution: we've switched to a non-clumping cat litter. It costs more, but we've started buying "Swheat Scoop", which is made of naturally processed wheat and contains neither of the aforementioned chemicals. It's not nearly as dusty either. At first I was afraid our fur baby would rebel against the switch, but there was virtually no transition at all and so far we all seem pretty happy with it. (Except now the "clumps" look like breaded chicken nuggets. Eeeww!)

Next parental dilemma: Are we feeding her too much? Ugh. More on that later.

Found

I recall many years ago reading an interview with John Lydon (aka Johnny Rotten of The Sex Pistols) in a Smash Hits magazine. He mentioned that one of his early jobs was working in the sewers. The interviewer asked what he did there. "Were you killing rats?" he asked.

"No", Lydon answered, "I was studying humanity".

Ok, so this piece isn't quite so harsh as that, but along similar lines. It concerns a gem I discovered on another one of my date nights at the Indigo magazine room.

"Found Magazine" is a collection of just that: stuff people have found. Papers littering the sidewalk, things pulled from garbage cans or recycle bins, forgotten stuff that's left behind on a bus seat or a park bench. They could be letters, resumes, flyers, birthday cards, shopping lists, notebooks or cassette tapes. The only criteria seems to be that (a) it was discovered somewhere and that (b) the original author/owner is not known to the person who found it. The magazine publishes photocopies of the found items, usually including a brief note as to where the item was found, or an a bit of conjecture about the meaning of the item.

This is modern day archaeology, askewed.

"Found" is a profound look at the mundane. It takes the ephemera of everyday life out of context, and through the absence of context assigns new meaning. Each piece becomes its own little mystery and your mind begins to fill-in the blanks with the "who, what, where, when and why". Sometimes the result is hilarious. Sometimes it's terrifying. Sometimes it's downright poetic. Truthfully, there is more meaningful observation in these pages than I've seen in a few literary journals. The best way to describe "Found" is "incongruous". In what seems like garbage one can find strange insight into the human condition.

If you're the voyeuristic type (and really, who isn't?) some of the stuff reprinted in the magazine is fascinating. For example, check out this note left on a windshield in a weird case of mistaken identity. From out of this one simple bit of poison pen, a human drama unfolds...

As they say, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", but notice the "page me later"...? She still loves him. This girl is seriously conflicted.

Issue #1 includes a poignant look at things found from the World Trade Centre after 9/11, which is surprisingly respectful, not stooping to morbid curiosity. There's also an interview with indie comic artist / author Lynda Barry, who is a self-proclaimed "scrounger" of found things. Another point of interest in this issue is "Cheeseburger in Paradise": a travel journal logging a particularly bland vacation in Hawaii. It becomes interesting when you begin to see the author partially as the typical "ugly American" stereotype, but also as just simple person with a mundane yet somehow satisfying life, and small aspirations.

If you're the type of person who likes to look for meaning in life's small moments, you'll love "Found". But it's not all deep: some of it is just baffling, goofy shit. I'm dying to listen to "Booty Time by the Ypsilanti All-Starz", a found cassette of 14 booty-rap anthems. And I'm anxiously awaiting the upcoming special issue of "Found" that promises to reprint the 40 page letter (!) by the paranoid license-plate woman.

http://www.foundmagazine.com/

Confessions of an Exhibitionist

When I was a child one of the biggest annual events in my life was the Exhibition. It didn't matter that it signalled the end of summer and the start of the school year -- the promise of over priced rides, un-winable games and cotton candy more than made up for it. To my child's mind, there was really nothing more exciting than a fair or Exhibition. And I went to a lot of them, usually with my grandfather, my father and my cousin. I was never really into the scary rides. My favourite memory was a ride that was like a merry-go-round, only instead of horses it was cars and motorcycles. I remember in particular a car with dark green sparkly paint that I loved. I liked to play games too. I don't recall ever winning anything big, but my cousin often did. One year he won a stuffed doll that was a silver robot and it made me crazy jealous.

Later, as a teen, the Exhibition became part of my warped romantic fantasy life. To go to the Exhibition with friends after dark seemed incredibly cool. I suppose it was the crowds and the neon lights and the noise, but for a few hours you could pretend you were somewhere other than the little jerkwater town you were living in. Maybe it was just my first exposure to the seedy underbelly of small town life that seemed dangerously appealing to me. There always seemed to be lots of gruff & unfamiliar faces trudging around in the dark, hordes of teenagers wound-up and hormonal, often itching for a fight, and of course the always suspicious looking "carnies". One year I remember a common prize given out at the games were small mirrors with different heavy metal bands stamped on them. Another year a prize was feathered roach clips. As a grew older, I became more cognizant of how skeezy and over-priced the Exhibition actually was and I stopped going. To this day, I still have vivid memories of the last time I went to the Exhibition as a teen. In my mind's eye, this song is an excellent snapshot of how I kind of remember it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHYt-GKzfF0

Perhaps it's just a sign of changing times, but it seems the Exhibition just isn't as big of a deal as it used to be. Now the fairgrounds are much smaller, it stays in town for only a couple of days and it seems very few people bother to go (myself included). Apparently they don't even charge an admission fee anymore, which indicates a drop in attendance. Maybe the reason is because our society isn't a "rural" as it used to be; the agricultural and livestock exhibits aren't as meaningful to us city folk. Would winning a "blue ribbon" impress anyone you know? And our sense of community just isn't the same as it used to be: no one in the city goes to the Exhibition to socialize with their neighbours. Perhaps another factor is that kids today have a lot more options for entertainment and recreation than when I was a child. Satellite tv, the internet, video games offer distraction that just wasn't available in the past. And I suppose if they're really feeling nostalgic for the midway, most families can take a vacation anytime of the year and visit a theme park for rides and games. Even the junk food that you used to only be able to get at the Exhibition -- cotton candy, pink popcorn, pogos, etc -- can be found year-round in other places. So, it seems that all the things that made the Exhibition special are becoming obsolete.

One of these days, just for old time's sake, I think I'll enter something in an exhibit, just to see if I can win a "blue ribbon".

"Somebody save me"

When did "Smallville" go from being one of the most enjoyable shows on tv to one of the most ridiculous? Admittedly, it's never been great drama, but it's gone from being a guilty pleasure to just plain guilty.

Let's backtrack for a minute, and talk about what made the show so great:

If you're not familiar with "Smallville", the basic premise of the show is it is a "no tights, no flights" story about the early days of Clark Kent living in Smallville, Kansas before he becomes Superman. As the series begins, Clark is an awkward and slightly geeky farm boy who is dealing with the typical adolescent problems (unrequited crush on the girl next door, high school bullies, etc.) when he starts discovering that he's "different" -- actually, he seems to be superhuman. As he explores his powers he confronts his parents and gradually learns of his mysterious origins. According to this interpretation, baby Clark was an alien who landed on earth, bringing with him a "meteor shower" that ravaged the little farm town in Kansas and changed the lives of everyone there. It eventually becomes apparent that a side effect of the "meteor rocks" (kryptonite) is it can mutate anyone who has been exposed to them, so the little town of Smallville has a disproportionate number of freaks. Naturally this all gives Clark an enormous guilt complex, intense feelings of alienation (no pun intended!), a sense of responsibility and of course a new mutant powered villain to fight every week.

The early seasons of the show were, frankly, beautiful. Just as Clark was in the full bloom of youth, every location in Smallville was bursting with lush colourful flowers, cozy pastoral farm scenes, small town life right out of Norman Rockwell and of course attractive young people. Well, plus meteor freaks. Still, there was something so compelling about those early years of the show, regardless of whether you're a comic book geek or not. And if you were familiar with the comic, watching the drama unfold was all the more delicious: how did Clark and Lex Luthor become enemies? How did his romance with Lana Lang start, and why did they break up? When is Clark going to start wearing glasses...?

Of course, "Smallville" was always the type of show that required a HUGE suspension of disbelief. Sometimes it was extremely far-fetched and absurd (the Kent family must own that room in the hospital because one of them was admitted every week!). Sometimes the acting or the writing was bad (whenever the story involved "red kryptonite" it got cringe-worthy!) and the occasional episode could be embarrassing to watch (remember Lana in the vampire sorority?) Again, I admit it was never high drama, but it was great escapist fun. And in it's own way it could be dramatic and touching. Try watching Jonathan Kent's funeral and not feel sad. Perhaps the greatest strength of "Smallville" was in its character development. "Smallville" was the first time I ever considered Superman to be an interesting character: a person with actual flaws, feelings and emotional baggage. And watching Lex Luthor was the "nature VS nurture" debate in motion: was he just born with evil genes, or did years of no one believing in him turn him into a monster? Pretty interesting stuff to attempt in a fluffy teen drama.

As with all shows that drag on long past their "best before" date, "Smallville" changed, and evolved into something very different from how it started. Every season had it's gold and it's dogs. I'm not sure I can exactly pinpoint where the show began to unravel for me. The developers/creative force behind the show, Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, left the series in 2008, hinting around at a struggle to maintain their creative vision of the show. Add to it, both Lex Luthor and his father Lionel (to me, the most interesting characters) were killed off. Clark and friends are all grown up now and working in Metropolis (begging the question, how is it really "Smallville" anymore?). The "no tights, no flights" rule has gone out the window with the introduction of a myriad of DC characters (Green Arrow --in costume-- is now a series regular, and there have been appearances by various others from the long-johns set). Generally, the show seems to have less & less basis in reality every time I see it, and as much I enjoy fantasy I do need some shred of credibility.

"Smallville" season 8 is out on DVD and for the first time in the entire series run I'm not in a great hurry to run out & buy it. (DVD has been my only access to the show, apart from sporadic episodes I've seen at other people's houses). Based on the few snippets I saw of season 8 the show has become more "soap opera" than drama. Still, the nostalgic part of me is ready to plunk down $40 for it because I'd love to recapture that old feeling the series used to give me. Right now, I'm torn... my heart says "yes" but my head knows better!

Perfect!

Yes, We Have No Brains!

I realize that I seem to end up talking about vampires quite frequently on this blog and I'm not really sure why... so let's give some equal time to the current horror flavour of the month: zombies.

Why are zombies so popular? Well, for one thing, they are probably the most "sex, drugs and rock n roll" of all the standard horror monsters. If you don't believe me, just take a close look at some of the legendary guitar gods and you'll see what I mean. Unlike vampires, zombies aren't sexy. They have hard living (and hard dying) written all over them. Their existence is completely from the gut, instinctual and "do as you please". Zombies just do not give a fuck about anything except for one thing: their addiction. Their whole motivation is getting their next fix. And they don't care what kind of abuse they have to suffer to get it. As for the "sex" part, well they're totally into "flesh"... only in their case, they just happen to feed on it.

On the flip side, every zombie story has its hero. The few, or the one, who wades through the mindless mob; the lone fighter in the sea of rotting humanity. Natural selection has given them the uncanny mix of brains, brawn and good luck and they manage to survive. Perhaps we identify with these characters, our feelings of alienation or individualism: "us against them", the age old conflict of man versus society. Or maybe we want to be them. Who doesn't want to be a survivor?

Beyond all that though, I think the real appeal is that at the heart of every zombie story lies a conspiracy theory. For every Raccoon City there has to be an Umbrella Corporation. Who doesn't love a juicy conspiracy theory? Every zombie outbreak can be blamed on the two most obvious perpetrators: big business or science. And who better to blame? It only confirms our suspicions that both are too rich, too powerful, and too secretive. While they play God our lives hang in the balance. Now, wouldn't a zombie outbreak be the ultimate "I told you so!"

Personally, my favourite zombie flick is "28 Days Later". For one thing, the idea of a "rage virus" strikes me as being plausible (in fact, some days I'm convinced I suffer from it myself!). Well, more plausible than waking the dead at any rate! Probably my favourite scene in the movie is when Jim, our survivor, first leaves the hospital and walks through the completely deserted London. The mood is strange and chilling, and probably one of the most effective I've ever seen in a horror film. According to my husband, the scene represents a utopia because there are no people. (He's a misanthropic sort!).

Over the past year or so I've been enjoying a variety of titles in "The Mammoth Book of..." series. These are thick anthologies on specific genres, the ones I get are different genres of comics but they make other titles as well. Admittedly, some of the stories collected therein aren't necessarily the "best" but they do cover a broad, international spectrum. The thing I enjoy most about the Mammoth Book series is that you get a nice sample of writers and artists that you might not have otherwise heard of and some of them are quite good.

In "The Mammoth Book of Zombie Comics" the gem for me was the multi-part "Dead Eyes Open" by Matthew Shepheard and Roy Boney Jr. Apparently the story came out of a failed internet project called DEADIES. This is a zombie story with a twist. Here, the zombies are rational, sentient, multi-faceted characters and the story is rather complex. Without giving away too much, the story creates a society where zombies have become a "race" and like any other minority group must the struggle for their rights and freedoms, rebel against the system and deal with prejudice. And Wil Wheaton is a character in it. Seriously. Check it out sometime.

In closing, a prediction: The next big thing will be werewolves. You've heard it here first.