Auteur Theory and “One Cut of the Dead”

This October, Citizen Jane is premiering a host of new content in a new series, This One's For the Ghouls: Women, the "Other" and Horror. Focusing exclusively on the horror genre, this month will contain spine-tingling essays and reviews discussing our Stephens students' favorite horror films. We'll dig deep (six feet deep, in fact) into the roles and portrayals of women in horror, as well as the abject -- the "other" -- and how those elements interact in some of the most well-known (and/or gruesomest) films in the canon. Check back here soon for more!

One Cut of the Dead is a 2017 horror-comedy written and directed by Shin’inchirô Ueda. Now, what could possibly make this zombie movie stand out from the rest? Perhaps the way Ueda ushers the audience through multiple storylines that all neatly connect in the end while also giving the film a stronger meaning.

The film opens and spends the first thirty minutes looking like a poorly acted and written zombie film. But then, Ueda takes advantage of the state he masterfully put his audience in and changes the entire plot line. Suddenly, the first thirty minutes weren’t the “real'' story. We had been watching a fictional television show in which the crew had to shoot everything live and as a single take. Talk about high stakes!

Now that we’ve established the main premise of the film, let’s talk about why this is a prime example of Auteur Theory. Ueda made this film on a 3 million yen budget (roughly $25,000) and it grossed $27,935,711 in Japan and $30.5 million worldwide. The numbers speak for themselves, but I’d like to touch on some things that make this film such a marvel. I’ve mentioned the multiple, but connected, storylines already, but now let’s talk about the camera. The opening storyline is completely hand-held, exactly as the show is meant to be viewed. But as soon as we are thrust into a standard narrative storyline, the camera suddenly shifts to take on a more stable and cinematic role. We’ve lost the touch of “realism,” if you will, with the handheld camera simulating a found-footage vibe. It’s brilliant. When Ueda brings us back to the set of the zombie show, the camera cuts back and forth between an observer and a participant. Now that the audience knows that the show isn’t “real,” the camera stays as a handheld, but keeps a steadier hand.

Another thing to mention is that while the zombie show was entirely fictional within the film, the final storyline of how the crew pulled off the one take still had to be choreographed and executed. Honestly, by including this, Ueda added a whole new level to this film for people to appreciate. Yes, it was acting in that moment, but that passion and scramble to save the take is exactly what making an indie film is like. You improvise and you adapt. Ueda brought a group to the screen that does everything in their power to make sure that there’s even something to put on the screen.

This film was made on a tiny budget and made over a thousand times that. You don’t do that with just any film or filmmaker. Ueda brings something to the table that not everyone has. He brings the ability to take a film and add value to it by putting his own creative mark on it. Whether that be in the shots, in the acting, or in the mise-en-scene, this film would never have made the splash it did if it had been directed by someone else.