"Shaun of the Dead" as a metaphor for Self-Actualization

Warning: spoilers


     The zeitgeist (zeitzombie?) film "Shaun of the Dead" not only sticks its tongue out and puts its arm around the shoulders of the horror genre, it conspires to portray achievement over the contemporary creative struggle for fulfillment.  Writer/director Edgar Wright and writer/lead Simon Pegg have collaborated to use time-honored storytelling techniques to both entertain and encourage.

     The film opens on a shot of Shaun (Pegg) gazing vacantly into the camera while The Specials' "Ghost Town" plays on the jukebox of his favorite pub, The Winchester, thus establishing Shaun as the central character who's life is stuck.  This scene ingeniously establishes the framework of both the film's style and its use of metaphor.  Shaun is taking a sip from a freshly pulled beer while the bartender shouts for last call.  From Shaun we are then introduced to his girlfriend, Liz, his best friend, Ed, and Liz's dating roommates, Dianne and David.  Each of the characters represents an archetype or aspect of the psyche; the group's discussion regarding Shaun and Liz's stale relationship is akin to chattering voices in Shaun's head, the hero wanting to become a hero but paralyzed by his weaknesses.  Using Shaun as our axis of the 'Self', let's examine the influences of the other characters.

     Liz is Shaun's call to action.  She is tired of falling into a routine of returning to the same dreary pub with the unwanted companionship of the other characters.  Liz is the dreamer within the hero, the one who wants to become the best that the one true Self can be.  She aspires to break free of the drudgery, but she can't do it without Shaun's ability, the hero's free will.  She recognizes the other characters, the vices, for what they are: obstacles... even if they can be charming.

     That brings us to Ed.  Shaun and Ed are constantly together, which annoys Liz.  Ed is comical, yet churlish, childish, and egocentric.  Ed represents Shaun's immaturity, as the life-long friends love to get drunk, play videogames, and listen to old music.  Ed is Peter Pan - an antiquated, illusory ideal.  The Self wants to hold on to an easy life without responsibility and work.  The hero can't develop until he lets go of the past.  There is an inherent tension in the girlfriend-bestfriend relationship that tears the hero apart, which is employed to showcase the mundane comfort that Shaun clings to while still yearning for the difficult commitment needed to become the Higher Self.

     Dianne is a "failed actress" and her boyfriend, David, is a critic of sorts (who apparently has some affinity for architecture).  Dianne wears gaudy makeup and clothes, making her a caricature, a bastardization of the actualized Self.  While cheery and seemingly harmless, she contributes no real worth, has no real substance.  She is a wannabe artist/hero.  Dianne is probably a comment on the real Simon Pegg's occupation as an actor.  David is a wimpy, whiny, hanger-on who is constantly second-guessing and undercutting Shaun, representing the Self's doubt.  This doubtful figure naysays the hero without ever taking positive action.  David is unyielding in his rebukes of Shaun, constantly dragging the hero down and holding him back.

     The bickering of heads culminates with Shaun promising that he will make a change so that things will be different, even with the scene ending exactly as it began: Shaun again taking a sip from a new beer, staring vacantly as the bartender shouts that time is up.  The Self wants to make a change but is still stuck in the old routine.

     The scene snaps to the opening credits, an upbeat tune playing while we observe cuts between various groups of people.  People doing repetitious activities in the service industry, people waiting at the bus stop, people uniformly nodding their heads to the la-la melody.  We will see many of these briefly observed characters later in the film when they appear again as zombies.  We therefore establish the analogy of the zombie: slaves to the system, the mindless masses who have fallen into the trap that endangers the hero.  Because guess what?  Shaun begrudgingly rides the bus to his job as an appliance salesman, often reminiscing of his university days as a DJ.

     It's at this point that we meet Pete, the third roommate in the house with Shaun and Ed.  Pete has a successful office job, yet is easily enraged.  Pete has succumbed to the cultural norm and is frustrated because of it, easily annoyed by his roommates.  While Ed sells weed and plays videogames, Pete works long and hard hours, and the two are constantly at odds.  Shaun is a kind of synthesis of the two; the house is where the Self lives, the divided Self.  Each of the roommates represents a failure for Shaun: Ed the flippant, unmotivated flop and Pete the overly-serious submission to external expectations.

     It's worth mentioning the small role that buildings have as a storytelling device.  Buildings can confine people, they are often imprisoning institutions within culture, though they can also be necessary expressions of residence.  The messy, chaotic house is the untamed brain.  The Winchester pub is the Self's sense of comfort and conformity.  The unopened shed in the garden is where latent traits of the Self can be stored without being completely discarded.  The single line that mentions David's love of architecture speaks to how doubt yearns to wall up the Self.

     As zombies start to appear, Liz's call to action requires a choice by the hero: to progress to Self-Actualization or become a brainless drone.  Shaun blindly stumbles through his routine, eventually running into Yvonne, an old friend.  Yvonne has moved into a nearby neighborhood, actually buying her own place.  She has the kind of success that Shaun wants, not Pete's.  Yvonne is an empowered fusion of Liz the dreamer and Shaun the decision-maker (Shaun the Self, the acting body, the one who pulls the trigger).  Yvonne is a guide, the Higher Self, implemented in the story to illustrate Shaun's shortcomings, yet spur him on to greatness.

     As Shaun becomes consciously aware of the zombie threat, he rushes to save those close to him.  He must first save his mum, Barbara, who is married to the undesirable step-father, Philip.  Barbara is flighty, showcasing the influence passiveness has on the Self.  Philip, on the other hand, is bossy.  Shaun perceives him as domineering and undercuts him.  Philip represents authority and the hero is loathe to submit.  Luckily for Shaun, Philip gets bitten by a zombie.  The death of Philip means Shaun can now internalize his authority and man-up to responsibility.  His demonizing of Philip and external pressure was only an excuse to hold himself back.

     Shaun now travels on foot with Liz, Barbara, Dianne, David, and Ed to the Winchester.  They are passed by Yvonne's crew (who are comparatively better prepared) and eventually make it to the pub.  With the electricity out, the group begin to bicker again, David trying to assert leadership.  Shaun barricades himself within this comfort zone while having to quell the loud voice of doubt.  The group, looking for levity, compels Ed to do his famous orangutan impersonation.  He resists and resists, eventually shouting, "I'm not a performing monkey!"  It's at this point that the electricity returns and the lights come on.  Light is repeatedly used as a device to illustrate enlightenment.  Shaun is coming to terms with his meaningful, internal motivations.

     The return of power becomes a double-edged occurrence as attention is called to the pub and the zombies begin invading.  Barbara, David, and Dianne all fall to the influence of the zombies, leaving Shaun, Liz, and a bitten Ed to retreat to the last bastion of the pub: the cellar.  It is in this deepest, darkest place they are closest to destruction.  With two bullets left, Shaun nearly uses them to eliminate Liz and himself, hope and choice.  However, the illumination from a Bic lighter shows another way out:  they can escape certain doom by leaving the familiar comfort zone, breaking free of the small enclosed space, getting away from the place of comfort Shaun has always returned to, and venture forth into the open, unknown world.  To do this Shaun must abandon Ed, abandon the past that holds him back.  Shaun makes the decision, and arises out of the cellar.  Right as he and Liz brace themselves to face the horde, to work their way forward, floodlights burst on and the military begins to destroy the walking dead, the troops arrive to save the day, called upon thanks to Yvonne, the Higher Self having come to save the hero.

     This is the central thesis.  If we choose to leave behind our weaknesses and instead partner with our hopeful dreams to commit to our personal work, then our Higher Self will emerge to achieve a true life.

     The epilogue of the film shows Shaun and Liz living happily together in Shaun's now tidy and appealing house.  Shaun has actualized his success.  The hero is happy.  He even allows himself to visit the garden shed where he houses zombie Ed.  He has appropriately compartmentalized his youthfulness and the story comes to a satisfying conclusion.

     "Shaun of the Dead" is a thoroughly entertaining movie.  Its quick wit and cleverness belies the deeply motivational message that makes this a timeless story.  This piece of fried gold is worth re-watching.



It wasn't easy work reading through this essay, I'm sure, but hopefully it was as rewarding for the audience as it was for the writer.  Thanks!

Short story: Grumps

“Grump.”

This proclamation was uttered by a small, bewildered creature rising from a wallow-hole.   Its muddy head chased away the last trails of fog that had hung around after dawn.

It was not alone.  

Another creature’s eyes poked up, “grump,” followed by a third party, “grump.”  

The Grumpers were normally placid fellows, having no natural predators.  However, that didn’t stop an envious Grumper from occasionally beating a fellow Grumper into an organic mess in search of a more suitable wallow-hole.  Sometimes a Grumper would drown in its own wallow-hole if it fell asleep the wrong way.  Once, a Grumper even died after falling from a height.  Such casualties were abnormal, and the lives of these three Grumpers was like that of Grumpers everywhere: wallowing in their wallow-holes and grumping proudly at each other.  

Our first Grumper was a particularly vigorous grumper, and true to its name it spoke up again.  

“Grump.”  

The cadence and tone of its grump was alarming to the other two Grumpers, or rather, as alarming as anything can be for a Grumper, and they agreed with a “grump” and a “grump.”  

The trio were oriented in the same direction, not looking at each other.  Overhead, the sun was racing from morning to midday, soon to be evening.  This Grumpday was as long or as short as any other, yet was quickly becoming extraordinary.  

The grumpiest Grumper was now determined to make a statement.  His next “Grump” was accompanied with a hop.  

“Grump!”  

This sort of bold exclamation neatly stunned the other two Grumpers.  

This instigator was indeed a shameless Grumper, for it repeated, “Grump!” and hopped again.  Not to be outdone, the second Grumper volunteered a “Grump!” and a hop.  

Spurred on by the others, the last Grumper joined in and pretty soon all three were hopping and grumping.  “Grump grump grump!  Grump!  Grump grump!  Grump grump grump!  Grump!”  

The first Grumper, now thoroughly inspired, filled its airsacs with air and bellowed, nearly bouncing out of its wallow-hole, “GRUMP!  GRUMP!  GRUMP!  GRUMP!”  

Past the point of reason, the other two Grumpers feverishly joined in.  “GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP,” and with nary a variance in cadence nor tone they continued tirelessly, “GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GRUMP GR---“

“SILENCE!”

a silvery voice cut through the chant.

Before the three Grumpers loomed an enormous figure, darkened in silhouette as the sun set behind it.  The Grumpers, having followed instructions, sat in astonishment.  One of them had an urge to grump, but managed to swallow it.

There in front of them was the largest Grumper they could have ever imagined.  As large as a hundred Grumpers, it was even more peculiar in regard to its exodermal layer, which was not the normal color of wallow-hole mud like any other Grumper, but glistened like the sun shining off the water of a particularly beautiful wallow-hole.  This new, magnificent Grumper stirred and spoke again.

“I am King Grump!  All other Grumpers are but shadows of my likeness.”

This was a stunning declaration and the smaller Grumpers listened intently.

“There are two kinds of Grumpers in this world: those that get grumped and those that do the grumping.  For ages, we Grumpers have been cast down by our circumstances, but no longer!  No longer, I say, for the evolution of Grumpers is reaching its zenith and soon our kind will achieve its truest potential.  As we have grumped about in these squalid conditions, we have perpetrated our own grumpy incarceration.  That time is over!”

King Grump raised its impressive visage to the starry sky, constellations dancing in its eyes.

“Join me, my fellow Grumpers!  I have a vision for a vast and wonderful Kingdom of Grump.  Alone we are but enemies unto ourselves, yet together we can create a world – nay, a universe! – the kind of which has never before existed!  No Grumper shall ever suffer again!  Let our airsacs sing with a voice united! Join me, my friends, join me!”

King Grump looked back down at them expectantly.  The smaller Grumpers were speechless.  

From beside King Grump a girl (being wholly alien to the poor Grumpers) giggled.  

“I think you scared them, Aux,” she said.

“Not true,” replied King Grump, looking towards her, “they are simply enchanted by my radiance.”

The Grumper trio looked back and forth between the two figures as the creatures exchanged words.  None offered a grump.

“They obviously don’t understand a thing you’ve said,” the girl chided playfully.

“Ye of little faith!”  King Grump huffed, turning back towards the wallow-holes.  “All in favor of joining my kingdom, say, “Grump!””

The Grumpers were silent.

The girl laughed again and began to float off the ground.  “I’m getting tired, Aux, let’s go back to the ship.”  She spun in the air and shot straight up.

King Grump peered over his reluctant domain for a moment.  Unimpressed, he filled his airsacs with air for one final statement.

“GRUMP!”

And with that he disappeared into the dawn, leaving the lesser Grumpers to cower bewildered in their wallow-holes amongst the early morning trails of fog.



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Thanks for reading!