Loving the Dead

No information – historical, experimental, or otherwise – has surfaced regarding the results of sexual relations with the undead specimen, but as previously noted, the nature of Solanum suggests a high danger of infection. Warning against such an act would be useless, as the only people deranged enough to try would be unconcerned with their own safety. Many have argued that, given the congealed nature of undead bodily fluids, the chances of infection from a non-bite contact should be low. However, it must be remembered that even one organism is enough to begin the cycle.

P.4 The Zombie Survival Guide (Max Brooks)

Pamela Franklin has a horrifying encounter in The Legend of Hell House

What are some memorable instances of people loving the dead? A few spring to mind, Wuthering Heights, A Rose for Emily, Laura and The Legend of Hell House. I’m sure I am missing some significant ones. I can’t think of any movies that involve human/zombie love though.

9 responses to “Loving the Dead

  1. Yuzna’s “Return of the Living Dead III” and Jean Rollins La Morte Vivante (?)–aka “The Living Dead Girl”

    On the non-zombie front, “Vertigo”s about love for a dead person too!

  2. In Roger Corman’s TOMB OF LIGEIA (scripted by Robert Towne), the Vincent Price character is compelled by post-hypnotic suggestion to make love to his wife’s corpse on a nightly basis.

    No zombies though.

  3. the video for Tom Petty’s “Mary Jane’s Last Dance” is all about him taking a corpse home from the morgue and pretending she’s his bride…

  4. A friend has been trying to get me to see Dellamorte Dellamore for a while, I promised to check it out this Halloween.

    Oh, I have a copy of the Living Dead Girl! I’d like to see it. Vertigo is a good one, similar to Laura in a lot of ways.

    Tomb of Ligeia sounds kinda awesome… I’d like to see it.

    My dad LOVES Tom Petty… yea.

  5. GASP! You *have* a copy of Living Dead Girl and you’re sitting on it?? Well grab the Pepto and then tell us all about it! Chop-chop!

  6. My brother is sitting on a mountain of dvds–many Criterion– that he buys with his lovely Federal Reserve job and he hasn’t watched.

    I’m still pissed with him for coming home to Christmas and bringing Englareys Bassturds with him. I kinow you like it and everything, but I refuse to see it and I know it was his arse-kissing concession to my methhead cousins’ tastes. I’m still furious.

    Granted, my mother’s cooking put me to bed early with a tummy-ache so it would have made little difference if he had brought Russian Ark.

  7. Can I just add since I think of it?: you know, I’ve had dreams for years about St. Petersburg, in which I run around endlessly through the labyrinthine, Overlook-like corridors of the Hermitage of my dreams. I think in one of them, an elaborate dream so vivid and ecstatic that it probably counts, phenomenalistically, as one of the most blissful experiences of my life, I was one of those girls and I was running, running, and suddenly I was terrifed that I was wearing shoes and dragging mud in, desecrating and destroying the infinite glories of the palace, and at the same time intuiting that it was all a dream and the whole gorgeous fabric would dissolve and I would wake. And yet– I stopped in a bathroom and cast them off and then I went back out and I was running, running again, barefoot, across the red carpets with the princesses through the glittering baroque halls and they were still endless . . . .

    Mind you, I still haven’t *seen* Russian Ark! THAT’S HOW MUCH I NEED IT!!!

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