The first time I saw it was early last November at the Detroit Film Theatre. I had never been there before, but was invited along but my friend and her boyfriend. We met early and meandered around the elaborate building so I could marvel ignorantly at the vast epic architecture. I remember we went downstairs to use the ornately designed bathrooms. There was some construction blocking off an area. They must have been repairing an aging section of the ancient building; we all know Detroit needs that kind of restorative attention.
When showtime came we crammed into the far-less-legroom-than-I-require seats and waited for the main feature. The film begins with a vague and almost unintelligible radio recording. It's not the quality of the sound that makes it difficult to understand, but the subject itself. It's the story of a missing cat and a bridge in a small town; seemingly unconnected things which are brought together by coincidental facts. We are told that this concurrence of unrelated things is a phenomenon which has happened often in history before and after significant events. The meaning of this message takes repeat viewings to decipher. At the DFT, however, I could feel everyone kind of looking around wondering what we had just heard. It turns out, rather than leave us clueless, the esoteric message gave us exact the primer we required.
Frist time watchers will have this film described to them as a zombie movie of sorts, but it has nothing to do with reanimated corpses. It does however feature some of the most grippingly scary settings and terrifying scenes I have ever seen. Most notably, an eyewitness account, delivered via cell phone to a radio host while on the air, of two "people", grasped by a virus which has turned them into unthinking, feral beats, literally biting and tearing into a victim's flesh. A prime example of the "it's what you don't see that's most frightening" adage.
Of course, zombie movies are nothing new. Every year there seems to be another dozen gore-fests on the big screen or at the very least released straight to DVD. This story is something far more unique, interesting and commendable. What causes people in this film to go insane is a virus, but, as described anxiously by a doctor who clambers his way into the radio studio, not a virus in the blood or in the air but a virus in language. The english language, to be precise. The key piece of dialogue I was able to pick up on second viewing, the other night, was the doctor's use of the term "God bug." An elaborate concept to comprehend, the idea supposed is that a new kind of viral life form which lives in thoughts has taken root in certain words. When a person hears and, most importantly, understands the infected word they are sent into a frenzy. The truly scary idea that the doctor exclaims is that this virus could eventually manifest itself in a physical form. Unfortunately, the movie kind of spirals out of control from there. The studio technician becomes infected and starts hurling herself against the sound proof glass behind which the others have taken shelter. Silence and speaking in other languages takes over until the "zombies" which have overrun the small town of Pontypool, Ontario break in, seeking out victims to viscously cannibalize. In the end, all the military can do is exterminate any of the infected. Too late late is it discovered by wonderfully portrayed, semi-alcoholic radio host Grant Mazzy and his producer Sydney that by convincing yourself that one of the infected words does not mean what you think it means - reverse your understanding of the word, if you will - you can be cured. In this world, however, the solution seems to be speaking French.
Je ne parle pas Français.
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