A movie about a murderous, experimental service monkey that becomes telepathically linked to its quadriplegic owner ought not be half as good as Monkey Shines. George A. Romero is, of course, going to be forever renowned for bringing us the modern version of the zombie (as opposed to the older school Vodun drugged or brainwashed version), but for sheer degree of difficulty alone, Monkey Shines should get more love than it does. Making a terrifying classic about a bunch of cannibalistic undead people is a bit like having a dynastic championship sports team that’s loaded with Hall of Famers; it’s obviously still a remarkable, legendary achievement, but the odds are still highly in your favor. Making a solid horror movie about a psychic, homicidal, lovable-looking service animal more often seen in comedies and family films is like eking out a winning record with a bunch of underachievers. In short, Night of the Living Dead Romero is like Vince Lombardi with Green Bay; Monkey Shines Romero is like Lombardi in Washington.