Growing up in a typical ‘50s suburb is tough for little Timmy Robinson. He gets bullied at school, embarrassed in front of his class, and ignored at home. He also has a crush on the new girl in the neighborhood, but doesn’t know how to talk to her. It doesn’t help that her dad is so intimidating; he’s the big-shot head of security at Zomcon, the megacorporation that ended the Zombie War and domesticated the undead.

Did I mention the zombies? They’ve overrun the world, and (à la Romero) everyone who dies with their head intact becomes one. Savage zombies roam the Wild Zone, kept out of the cities by fences, while the ones on the inside are kept as pets and slaves, made servile by Zomcon’s electronic domestication collars. Anyway, Timmy’s a bit confused by the whole thing, and doesn’t know which grownups to turn to for guidance. Plus he's got no friends. So it’s not easy being little Timmy.

Everything changes when his mom brings home a surprise: their very own zombie! Timmy’s family was the last one on the block not to have one, but now Fido can help with the chores, play with Timmy at the park, and protect him from bullies. But Timmy’s troubles aren’t over yet. Just as he's starting to bond with his new pet, Fido has a little mishap and eats one of the neighbors. Now it’s up to Timmy to keep Fido’s slip-up hidden from his parents as well as the probing eye of Zomcon.

Think Shaun of the Dead meets Lassie and The Truman Show. Set in the postwar era of idealized suburbia, consumerism, and white picket fences (the recent “war” was not WWII but the Zombie War, although the difference is negligible), Fido is a brilliantly executed spoof of ‘50s culture and representations such as Leave It to Beaver; it bears an especially close subtextual relationship to 1955's Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Amidst the sunny, neighborly suburban setting, the constant threat of being eaten by or turning into a zombie -- together with the fact that the undead are taken for granted to the point where they’ve been commodified -- lends the whole movie a pervasive irony that’s amusing even at times when the surface humor slows.

The movie depicts a society in which the semblance of happiness is the central pillar; life itself is like one giant charade, subtly mirroring the zombies themselves (who have only the semblance of life). The marvelous art production and set and costume design throughout the film color the world with a cheery brightness that borders on the ridiculous; against this brightness, the drabness of the zombies is a strangely welcome contrast.

Ironically, the zombie Fido (Scottish übercomedian Billy Connolly) unwittingly starts to bring both trouble and some real brightness into the lives of the Robinson family. Little Timmy (K’Sun Ray), in his innocent bewilderment, is the only one willing to question the status quo and the power of the all-American war hero, the charismatic Zomcon fascist John Bottoms (Henry Czerny). Timmy’s mother (Carrie-Anne Moss) has for too long contented herself with running a smooth household and preparing dinners for her emotionally repressed husband (Dylan Baker), and soon begins to see something a little more -- human? -- in the growling, lumbering Fido. If the Robinsons don’t get eaten by the living dead first, they just might develop a new sense of what it means to be a family.

Relevant and funny, Fido is a true gem of zombie cinema. Tackling a host of issues ranging from gender and race relations to mistreatment of the elderly to consumerism (‘keeping up with the Joneses’) and more, the film is intelligent enough not to spend all its time on a soapbox; rather, it shines a cartoonish light directly onto the absurdity of these social ills, then saunters on through a world that takes them for granted. And while Fido is chock-full of social, political, and cultural satire, as a zomedy (zombie comedy) it doesn’t rely solely on its ‘messages’ to move forward; it's well made and wry, at times even gut-splittingly (sorry) hilarious, down to countless details.

Even its treatment of some of the more disturbing subjects common in zombie movies, such as parricide and the death of children, made me laugh out loud. The script is intelligent, and there are a number of interesting, interconnected character arcs. Zombie fans shouldn’t expect mass carnage and wall-to-wall gore, but the occasional scenes of violence are suitably bloody, as well as perversely humorous. (Little Timmy turns out to be pretty handy with a shovel.)

The cinematography and visual direction are very keen, often signifying important themes on their own; a splash of blood on a white picket fence, for example, speaks volumes. The cast is also superb. Carrie-Anne Moss, as beautiful as ever, gives a great performance that's remarkably subtle and realistic, while still meeting the demands of continuous spoofery.

I was surprised at how effective the otherwise spirited Billy Connolly is as a zombie; he appears sometimes subdued, sometimes frustrated, and oddly pensive. Sad-eyed, slightly decayed, and shorn of his wild locks, Connolly’s zombie is awkward yet proper, and reminiscent of an aging dog who just wants to be loved; yet he’s still believable as a flesheater. Dylan Baker’s uptight mannerisms and forced smiles are perfect, as comic as they are tragic; all by itself his performance carries a great deal of the film’s psychological heart. The other performances and direction in general are top-notch in this witty, twisted, and deliberately understated horror satire.

Other Thoughts (spoiler-free)
Tying into the excessively bright colors that fill people’s lives is the fact that appearances are all that most adult characters will admit they care about. This seems to be a survival tactic, whether originating in the citizens themselves or imposed on them by Zomcon -- the corporation that rose to political dominance with its solutions to the zombie menace. Besides functioning as law enforcement, the military, and the dealer of pet zombies and collars, creepily enough they seem to do everything, even distributing the town’s milk. The company warns the people of the hordes of hungry undead outside the city walls in part to maintain their own ‘savior’ status, but Zomcon also tries to keep them content and worry-free in their quiet, consumer- and leisure-oriented lives.

With the post-9/11 White House using the threat of terrorism as political currency and simultaneously reminding us that it is our patriotic duty to keep shopping despite our fears, the film may have as much to say about current times as it does about life in the 1950s. We can imagine that if the citizens were to acknowledge their fears or postwar trauma, they might not buy another domesticated zombie, and that would be bad for the economy!

True to its ‘50s setting, the consumerist mentality in Fido meshes naturally with its postwar ‘With Us Or Against Us’ attitude that characterizes both Cold War paranoia and the War on Terror (not to mention Stalinism). At one point, John Bottoms encapsulates this creed by describing the Wild Zone: “Out there is chaos; in here is safety. People who don’t understand that end up on the wrong side of the fence.” Of course, it’s in the best interest of Zomcon -- who are also responsible for maintaining the border -- to control how afraid people are of the outside. As numerous American politicians have done with Communism and terrorism, Zomcon is actually marketing the idea of an external threat. In effect they’re commodifying zombies on both sides of the fence.

In a world where the dead walk, this strategy does in fact provide security; it's even more effective in securing Zomcon’s own power. What’s just as eerie as the shambling undead is how deeply this brand of thought control runs, and how close to real life it is. Significantly, it’s not the zombies at large who have been locked up; it’s the living citizens. When Bottoms notes that “These little problems are all about containment,” it suggests not only the gated communities and zombie domestication collars but also the general social and psychological conditioning. Zomcon uses propaganda to train small children, and the media (or is it all just Zomcon?) presents only the most easily digestible news to adults; veracity is not a factor. Among the effects is that people are reluctant or unable to discuss anything beyond the expected small talk. In today’s world of political control over the media and corporate control over politics, these subtexts in Fido ring disquietingly true.

Review Rating: 9 out of 10 walker-thingies