White Privilege Zombie

White Zombie

Madeleine and Neil are in love and want to get married at a Haitian plantation. Sounds romantic. And hey, Monsieur Beaumont owns a Haitian plantation; why not go to Haiti and get hitched in the middle of the night while zombies roam and voodoo drum solos echo across the countryside?

White Zombie

But that sly ’ol dog Beaumont has a hidden agenda. His flimsy plan is to get Madeline there and somehow try to convince her to dump Neil and let him feel her up, through sickness and in health. He explains this while walking her down the aisle. Nice timing, dude.

White Zombie

But Beaumont didn’t get that nice suit by taking the long way around success. He contacts his neighbor Legendre, an evil man whose very glare will make you poop in your pants. And he knows how to turn you into a zombie (which accounts for all those minimum wage workers in his castle and mill). He wants Legendre to use his black mojo to make Madeline hook up with him. Legendre gives the emotionally f’d up Beaumont some zombie dust.

White Zombie

One minute after being pronounced Mrs. Neil Something, she smells her wedding bouquet and, wham, deader than a door nail. Neil freaks. Beaumont takes the body away and sure enough, it comes back to life. But not life as he thought. Madeline is as emotionless as a married couple, and hardly even blinks. Beaumont goes back to Legendre and wants a refund. Slight problem — once a zombie, always a zombie. 

White Zombie

Meanwhile, Neil and a priest friend try and find his corpse bride. Well, heck — she’s wandering around Legendre’s beach front castle (complete with zombie maids and stunning ocean views from every room except the dungeon). Neil finds Madeline, but she gives him the cold shoulder. (Neil didn’t know she was a zombie. Heck, he thought she was dead.) 

White Zombie

A small scuffle ensues with Legendre ultimately being thrown off one of his many scenic balconies onto the beach rocks below. It’s only after Legendre dies that the zombie spell is broken. Neil’s future is now full of smooches and feeling ups.

White Zombie

White Zombie (1932) has an interesting premise and is full of Bela Lugosi eyebrow close-ups, which look like sweater sleeves taped to his forehead. But shabby pacing, no real scares, and several glasses of spilled wine slow this thing down to a zombie crawl. (I don’t drink wine, but I hate to see ANY alcohol go to waste.)

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