John A. Russo Movies

It's never a good idea to have a dead person mad at you, as you will learn from this horror opus. As a child, Abbot Hayes (A. Barrett Worland) was tormented by his emotionally unstable mother, and he grew up to become a sexual predator and mass murderer. But Hayes' evil didn't come to an end with his death; he became a zombie and banded together an army of the bloodthirsty living dead, cutting a swath through the small town where he lived before vanishing without a trace. Nearly a decade and a half later, the terrible story of Abbot Hayes is discussed by curious visitors to the town, but not the locals, who prefer not to mention Abbot's bloody legacy. But when an unscrupulous local businessman buys up a cemetery and makes plans to move the bodies to a mass grave, the undead Mr. Hayes returns, determined once again to show his deadly strength to the people who permitted this show of disrespect to the dead. Children of the Living Dead also features legendary special-effects expert and sometimes actor Tom Savini in a small role. ~ Mark Deming, Rovi

The sequel to the 1980 original finds the only survivor of a family of killers (Matthew Jason Welsh) raping and murdering a series of female victims he meets on the street. However, one victim's roommate (Jo Norcia) becomes suspicious and tries to solve the killing with the help of a police detective (Chuck Pierce). ~ John Bush, Rovi

Makeup wizard Tom Savini's color remake of George A. Romero's 1968 classic follows the original almost shot-for-shot, so quality comparisons are somewhat pointless. The film was clearly made for younger viewers who refuse to watch black-and-white films, no matter how good they may be. The result is passable, but the very fact that the original was made 22 years before makes this version seem almost dated in its restraint. By the time of its release, Romero had already geometrically raised the gore quotient with Dawn of the Dead (1978) and Day of the Dead (1985), so Savini's starting back at square one further lessened the impact of this pointless retread. If this version has anything to offer, it is Patricia Tallman's engaging lead performance as a gun-toting independent woman, one of this film's few elements not lifted wholesale from Romero. ~ Robert Firsching, Rovi

Join fearless filmmaker John Russo as he sets out to highlight the mystical origins of horror cinema's most beloved subject matters by taking viewers deep into the darkness to explore witchcraft, voodoo, and black magic. The author of thirteen horror novels and the legendary filmmaker responsible for delivering some of the biggest scares ever to reach the silver screen, Russo proves that even the most fantastical elements of horror cinema have tangible roots in reality. ~ Jason Buchanan, Rovi

Middle-aged family man Frank (Jim Karen) trains teenaged Freddy (Thom Matthews) for his new job at a medical supply warehouse. In an effort to impress and frighten his young charge, practical joker Frank reveals that the warehouse basement contains a cannister full of a mysterious chemical capable of bringing the dead back to life. It seems that the cannister fell off the back of an army truck during an accidental outbreak of zombiedom. Frank and Freddy unwittingly inhale the chemical and release it into the warehouse. Turning to the operator of a nearby crematorium for help in destroying the suddenly undead specimens that surround them, they unwittingly awaken the residents of a nearby cemetary just as Freddy's pals arrive to party amidst the headstones and wait for their friend's shift to end. Meanwhile, Col. Glover (Jonathan Terry) waits for the call that his missing chemical weapon has been unleashed. ~ Brian J. Dillard, Rovi

When unexpected radiation raises the dead, a microcosm of Average America has to battle flesh-eating zombies in George A. Romero's landmark cheapie horror film. Siblings Johnny (Russ Streiner) and Barbara (Judith O'Dea) whine and pout their way through a graveside visit in a small Pennsylvania town, but it all takes a turn for the worse when a zombie kills Johnny. Barbara flees to an isolated farmhouse where a group of people are already holed up. Bickering and panic ensue as the group tries to figure out how best to escape, while hoards of undead converge on the house; news reports reveal that fire wards them off, while a local sheriff-led posse discovers that if you "kill the brain, you kill the ghoul." After a night of immolation and parricide, one survivor is left in the house.... Romero's grainy black-and-white cinematography and casting of locals emphasize the terror lurking in ordinary life; as in Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds (1963), Romero's victims are not attacked because they did anything wrong, and the randomness makes the attacks all the more horrifying. Nothing holds the key to salvation, either, whether it's family, love, or law. Topping off the existential dread is Romero's then-extreme use of gore, as zombies nibble on limbs and viscera. Initially distributed by a Manhattan theater chain owner, Night, made for about 100,000 dollars, was dismissed as exploitation, but after a 1969 re-release, it began to attract favorable attention for scarily tapping into Vietnam-era uncertainty and nihilistic anxiety. By 1979, it had grossed over 12 million, inspired a cycle of apocalyptic splatter films like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), and set the standard for finding horror in the mundane. However cheesy the film may look, few horror movies reach a conclusion as desolately unsettling. ~ Lucia Bozzola, Rovi