Fido

 

Andrew Currie's Fido, from 2006, is a pleasant, if meandering zombie comedy. In an alternate mid-century America where zombies are domesticated servants and pets, Currie pokes fun at a Leave it to Beaver type suburbia with fascistic underpinnings. The costumes and décor are eye popping. The cinematography by Jan Kiesser glows with well contrasted color. However, Fido's pacing is as shambolic as its zombies. Currie is more interested in exploring the subtext of his narrative, zombie as American outsider, than in pacing or comic riffs. He is too tight on the leashes of his players, confining them to a set place in his frame. Zombie movies require a sense of creeping anarchy that is missing here. The zombies don't get to shamble enough in Fido.

Still, a movie that utilizes such undervalued talents as Billy Connolly, Henry Czerny and Tim Blake Nelson has some points in its favor. Best of all is Carrie-Anne Moss, freed here from her usual uptight bitch typecasting, who casts a warm maternal glow as a Mom chafing against the strictures of a repressive society. Fido's obviousness slows down its proceedings, but it is relatively well-crafted and amiable.