Zombies used to equal horror. The flesh-eating, walking dead were invariably, revoltingly scary. Recently, however, the definition has begun to morph. Zombie films can be exercises in going mainstream (Sarah Polley in Zack Snyder's Dawn of the Dead remake). They can be flat out comedies (the much beloved Shaun of the Dead). Now, Canadian filmmaker Andrew Currie takes a baby step in yet one more direction with Fido: the zombie satire.
The setting is the idyllic 1950s town of Willard, where the sun shines every day, everybody knows their neighbor, and enslaved zombies do the chores. Zombies have lost the war against men and are ruled by the ZomCon corporation. Controlled by an electronic collar, zombies now serve a vital role in the community: they have become the servant population. There are no people of color in Fido. The social commentary is both obvious and well executed.
The happy facade cracks when class runt Timmy Robinson (K'Sun Ray) becomes too attached to his new zombie servant (Billy Connolly). He gives it a name - take a wild guess - and treats his zombie like a beloved pet dog. Over time, his affection deepens. Fido slowly begins to replace Timmy's own distant father (Dylan Baker). Timmy's mother Helen (a pregnant and alluring Carrie-Anne Moss) also develops feelings - romantic feelings - for her green, grunting worker despite the bad teeth, lack of language and bulging eyes. What's a traditional family to do?
When Fido's collar goes on the fritz and he begin eating neighbors, chaos breaks loose all over town. Fido is entertaining. The cast of characters is appealing--from the zealous ZomCon company man (Henry Czerny) to curvaceous Tammy (Sonja Bennet), the zombie boy toy across the street. Effective and funny pot shots are taken at a repressive period in time. The gentle little film won't, however, blow your mind, or redefine our notion of zombies: they remain stupid and hungry for brains and certainly unwelcome in the home.
