Black Summer (2019) has polarized critics and undead fans. Some have called the show a rejuvenation of the zombie genre and others have balked at the story’s zombies and its ending. Wherever the critics and undead-lovers land on the series, there is no mistaking that Black Summer brings a new take on old lore. However, in a landscape of continually evolving interpretations of the walking flesh eater–Train to Busan (2016), Cargo (2017), The Dead Don’t Die (2019), etc.–Black Summer innovates by opposing the massive hordes and the deadeye heroes of current zombie films and television. In doing so, Black Summer masters a minimalistic horror that reignites the fear of the living dead.
Check out the trailer for Black Summer, streaming on Netflix:
Since The Night of the Living Dead (1968), hordes have been a main source of terror and death in zombie films. Every film, it seems, references the fact that one zombie is easily dispatched, but you are in trouble when they coalesce into large groups. Dawn of the Dead (1978 and 2004), Day of the Dead (1985), Land of the Dead (2005), Resident Evil (2002), etc. all feature at least one scene where a character has been devoured by a mob of hungry, decayed walkers. World War Z (2013), in particular, is guilty of excessively overplaying the horde in its numerous scenes of zombies crawling over top of each other to scale walls and buildings. Even video games like State of Decay (2013), Days Gone (2019), and World War Z (2019) rely on the emergence of hordes to produce terror.
The problem is that hordes are overused. We’ve come to expect that characters will be devoured by them and, like the slasher clichés before them, they are expected by zombie fans. Again, World War Z exemplifies the levels that creators are willing to take the horde in order to produce the initial shock of Night of the Living Dead. Black Summer succeeds, however, because it ignores hordes and focuses on the deadliness of one fast, determined flesh-eater.
Stafford Perry in Black Summer
Black Summer is decidedly minimalistic in its approach to apocalyptic horror. Some of the criticism surrounding the series focuses on its stripped-down nature. It seems that The Walking Dead (2010) has trained us to expect monologues, dialogue, and intimate connection between characters. Black Summer negates all of these played out techniques and brings the zombie genre back to basics with guerilla filming that feels like polished found footage. The lighting has an eerie blue-tinge to it and the characters are developed enough for us to sympathize with, but not enough to form deep attachments. While The Walking Dead is comfortable being a soap opera with an occasional walker attack, Black Summer is willing to drive up the intensity to new levels with unexpected twists. Most of that intensity is due to the zombies.
These undead are fast and they are determined. Romero opposed fast zombies and I can see his reasoning, but I’ve always harbored a soft spot for the running dead. Black Summer’s living dead are quick on their feet and they devolve from human to zombie in record time. When someone is killed, the characters have between 30 – 60 seconds before the change takes place. The series uses this speed to its advantage, often making the dead a weapon that one group of survivors uses against another group.
Moreover, these zombies aren’t stumbling fools. They adapt. In the first episode we follow an undead on the chase and we watch as a recently turned young woman adapts to her environment and finds new ways to continue hunting her prey. In another situation, a zombie learns to climb a school bus by watching a character do it twice. Most importantly, there are no hordes. Single zombies present a huge challenge to the protagonists and these encounters redefine the flesh eater as individually dangerous and deadly. Indeed, with their speed and the ability to learn, these decaying villains are not easy to pick off, especially when faced with unremarkable protagonists.
Whether it is Rick Grimes (Andrew Lincoln) of The Walking Dead or Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt) from World War Z, it always feels like zombie protagonists have trained their entire lives for the zombie apocalypse. In purely practical terms, shooting moving targets in the head is not easy. Police and military train to shoot for the body because it is the largest area of mass, making it easier to hit. Swinging weapons and constant running will tire the normal person out in no time. While I love a capable zombie hunter, they are figures pulled from action films and put into the horror genre. They feel misplaced.
Black Summer’s protagonists are joyfully and frustratingly incompetent, and that’s a good thing. There has been criticism about the characters and it is mostly valid. However, incompetent, bad-at-shooting, nonviolent, out-of-shape, and generally terrified characters make a good horror series. Even when armed, the characters can barely get a headshot, and most sensibly end up running and hiding. They aren’t zombie killers, and that makes even one undead a huge challenge for them. In fact, one episode is dedicated to one man evading one zombie and continually failing to get away.
The series is genius, because these characters are us. We are nonviolent, untrained in firearms, and, generally, not in the least bit prepared to survive the zombie apocalypse. Certainly, we want to be Mila Jovovich in Resident Evil, but we’re not, and Black Summer knows it. Faced with one fast, violent, and clever zombie, we would be served as dinner faster than a happy meal. Furthermore, these characters face consequences. Not locking a door, not fastening your seat belt, and being over sympathetic to others kills characters. There’s no heroism here, because that gets you dead.
Black Summer isn’t perfect, but it does transport the zombie mythos to a type of individualistic horror that is not often part of the undead genre. It places its characters in nearly unwinnable situations with minimal zombies and reminds us how dangerous the undead can be. Any zombie fan knows the theory that the survivors are often more dangerous than the zombies themselves. Black Summer is brave enough to say that, yes, the people are dangerous, but the zombies are still far worse.
Related: Cargo and the rise of the fungal zombie
Ethan Robles is a writer and higher education consultant working out of Boston, MA. He is currently working on an edited collection dedicated to youth-focused horror film and television. You can follow him on Twitter @Roblecop and on Instagram @Robo_gramm.
Ethan has written for Horror Homeroom on Gerald’s Game, Hulu’s original series, “Castle Rock,” Annihilation, and horror documentaries. And check out his list of the top 10 episodes of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?“
Thanks for this take on Black Summer. I will continue watching it with these ideas in mind. I was close to giving up on it because of the lack of character development and dialogue–I want some narrative among the live people/survivors. But now I see another perspective that makes me want to rewatch the show. Thanks for that!