Le Raisins de la mort (translation: The Grapes of Death) turns out to be a pretty blunt title for a movie that I’ve seen described as “surrealistic” from a director whose calling card was, arguably, surrealism. I suppose one could cook up some kind of symbolic meaning behind the title if so inclined, but in the end this is a zombie a movie in which literal grapes are the source of literal death, and the unimaginative title is reflected in a surprisingly unimaginative movie.
But let’s start with what there is to like about The Grapes of Death. The zombies are interesting and notable in that they’re not utterly mindless, merely murderous. They are not reduced to base impulses such as hunger or rage, They can still feel remorse and at least a semblance of love. They can connive and make sacrifices. They are just far enough removed from their humanity to be dangerous–especially en masse–but not so far removed as to be hopeless. It’s a welcome take on a supersaturated genre.
