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For all the hilarity they’ve brought to our lives, most notably since British sitcom Spaced premiered in 1999, Edgar Wright, Simon Pegg, and Nick Frost have become icons – not only of geek culture, but of the general filmmaking world. Fans everywhere hail what’s become known as “The Cornetto Trilogy,” and the mastery of comedic filmmaking with a heart of gold that make up Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and The World’s End.
The three men make films that bring both laughter and tears, backed by wholesome, touching values to carry us on a hilarious rollercoaster of joyously nerdy fun, clever quips, pop culture references, twists on traditional sci-fi tropes, stellar soundtracks, and beautifully choreographed rule breaks. They’ve become household names, their characters bound to be cosplayed at any Con.
While Spaced did wonders to introduce the team to the world, Shaun of the Dead put them on Hollywood’s map way back in 2004. Here in 2020, I sat down to re-watch Shaun of the Dead for the first time in a while. A semi-apocalyptic movie was a bit of an ironic choice for escapism, but some of the relatability couldn’t help but comfort me. As a longtime fan of this trio, there was no surprise when I took note of just how much of the film’s story serves as essentially one big Fuck You to toxic masculinity. Amongst the rest of the trio’s work, this is totally normal. But in the world of mainstream films, male led productions, and zombie films? It’s incredibly refreshing, especially given the male fandom that follows it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a woman and I adore these films, along with my women friends who watch them with me. But I can’t deny that these films are largely a staple for a fandom that many straight white men will stake their identity on, like most other counterparts of geek culture. In any conversation I have with a man my age, especially in my circle of fellow film enthusiasts, it’s almost guaranteed that if I bring up Wright or The Cornetto Trilogy, it will serve as a bonding topic. Which makes me so thankful that a trio like these dedicated Brits are putting so much positivity into their films. And that brings us to our feature presentation: Shaun of the Dead and its Middle Finger to Toxic Masculinity.
Pegg’s Shaun is a twentysomething salesman who’s found himself in something of a redundant rut – not unlike many of us twentysomethings. His life is routine, his best friend clingy, and his girlfriend tired. And Shaun? Shaun’s just living day to day, not facing any of these things for what they are. It’s not that he doesn’t want to change, I suspect it’s more that he’s never really had to. He wants to keep his girlfriend, Liz, in his life, and be a part of a mature, adult relationship, but he’s never had to take that control before. And Liz has him dangling on a rather thin thread – after a Big Discussion, and a perfect storm of circumstances at work, their relationship is headed for the dumps.
Liz’s frustration is understandable – certainly not making her out to be some sort of unreasonable, psychotic ex-girlfriend, like many other buddy-type comedies – but that’s not to say Liz is so much stronger than him in her own ways. It’s funny enough to see Ed third wheeling their confrontation about him, well, third wheeling, but what’s more ironic is cutting to see that Liz’s roommates, Diane and David, are also partaking in this couple’s discussion. What’s more, as we’ll see later, is that Ed is at least along for the ride out of support and camaraderie; whereas, Diane and David are present out of unrequited love and false hope.
So, it’s not that our dearest Shaun is some hopeless, immature loser with a girlfriend far “out of his league.” He’s just in a rut and needing to take the reins on his own life – and there’s nothing like a zombie apocalypse to bring out the hero in us all.
Ed, on the other hand, just doesn’t care. He exists to have a good time, and people ask little else of him. As Designated Best Friend, he’s there to support Shaun in his journey. A huge character arc won’t be entirely necessary for Ed, but he’ll have enough development to bring the two friends’ story home.
The two mates spend their days as one might expect: playing video games, working, and hanging out at the Winchester Tavern. Naturally, when Liz finally breaks up with Shaun, they wind up back at the Winchester to drown his sorrows in alcohol and, more importantly, tears. Which brings us to our first Fuck You to the toxic masculinity we’re used to seeing onscreen. Shaun is genuinely heartbroken, crying his way through it. For the amount of times I’ve seen a myriad of Bridget Jones types onscreen, drinking and crying into their Ben and Jerry’s over a breakup, it’s actually a struggle to think of times I’ve seen fictional men do the same. Not only that, but how many times has it been done and not solely for the sake of a laugh? It’s worth a chuckle, sure, seeing Shaun’s red-eyed state, but only out of relatability, rather than at his expense.
And, of course, after Ed offers him his ear, they drink their way through the rest of it. Which, okay, isn’t exactly healthy, but I wouldn’t chalk it up to toxic masculinity, having seen plenty women – fictional and real – do that.
And at least the night turns into a good time, full of plenty laughs. Ed lets his friend lament, only to pick him back up, judgement free. Of course, their amusement is backed by only a few zombies they take for other drunkards.
By the next day, as we see zombies take over, Shaun’s routine is so automatic he survives the beginnings of a zombie apocalypse through sheer oblivion.
After laughing at, and accidentally killing, a thought-to-be-drunkard zombie, the situation starts to become all too real. They fight off two more zombies in a less-trained Jason Bourne fashion – with vinyl records; including a nice nod to just how slow doom is when it’s undead, as they carefully select which records they can afford to sacrifice.
After the iconic Wright “Plan” montage, they head out for an awkward rescue mission, in which Shaun plans to kill Philip, his infected stepdad. Turns out killing a member of your family – even one you loath – is harder than expected. So, stupidly but understandably, they rescue both Philip and Shaun’s mum, Barbara, before heading off to Liz’s.
Shaun climbs the window at Liz’s in an amusing, more successful callback to his earlier attempts to do so. He takes to his new hero title pretty quickly, and gets to seem even more impressive when he makes it clear that their safety matters far more than their relationship and any possible desires to win Liz back – which is technically true, but winning her back sure would be a nice bonus.
Squishing everyone in the car brings us to our next [semi] Fuck You, when we witness a heartwarming moment as Philip expresses his paternal love for Shaun, explaining that his toughness only came from a place of love, wanting Shaun to stay strong after losing his father. He even tells Shaun how much he’s always believed in him – a pretty fitting statement for a film in which Shaun is already finding his inner strength and leadership.
This is only a semi-Fuck You because it’s a redemptive Fuck You. This old-school mentality of being tough on your son out of love, to make him “a man,” is a huge part of toxic masculinity that hurts young men like Shaun – as evident by how much Shaun has disdained Philip all these years. Had he spent more time trying to be a proper, loving father figure, forwardly supporting Shaun, things likely would have gone a lot smoother for both them. But I guess that’s how it serves more as a Fuck You from the writers, if not from the characters. It provides that much needed commentary. Philip’s final willingness to express this in almost an apologetic way makes for a nice redemption and bonded moment between the two men. Shaun acknowledges that Philip was a father figure to him, in a quiet callback to his earlier refusal to call him “dad.” And now, he must mourn his death, when he had only just been trying to muster the courage to kill him. Once more, crying through the trauma of this insane situation, losing the stepfather who only just came to mean more to him than mum’s douchebag boyfriend.
Going forward, their on-foot journey to the Winchester also leads to notable moments of honesty from Shaun, and broken archetypes from the women of the film. They make their way through suburban yards, running into Shaun’s old friend, Yvonne – Spaced’s very own Jessica Hynes – who has her own replica band of misfits to lead to safety.
In fighting off one zombie, Diane, Liz, and Shaun perfect their killing techniques, with the ladies growing rather enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, including cheering when Shaun pegs the zombie into a tree (no pun intended). All the while, Ed and David uselessly sit back, still in awe of the near-death experience.
For two men who claim uncertainties and weaknesses in writing women characters without the brilliant input of Hynes, I’d say Wright and Pegg have done quite well here – even if they are just side characters. Hynes has taught them well.
Shortly after, a suspicious Barbara reunites with them, clutching her wrist. Heroic Shaun elects to make sure “the coast is clear” before they move forward. In an amusing, stagnant shot, Shaun confidently climbs a child’s slide only to come back down seemingly on the verge of tears to inform us that, no the coast is not at all clear. Once more, hilarious only out of sheer relatability.
Diane gets to take the lead this time, using her acting training to teach everyone how to walk like a zombie. In a moment reminiscent of Spaced’s fashionista, Twist, it’s nice to see a young woman use her artistic talents to further the mission.
The team stumble their way through town, less and less convincing as they get closer and closer to the pub. A dull evacuation alarm rings in the distance, and it’s wonderfully hard to tell whether this is a clever bit of scoring, or a diegetic sound ringing through the town.
Ed takes a phone call, blowing their already weakened cover, and Shaun makes a rash sacrifice in choosing to run off and distract the zombies who have noticed our ragtag gang are, well, not zombies.
The beginnings of their time in the pub, even after a reunion with our hero, are silent and boring (for them). Waiting for things to blow over can be pretty anticlimactic but hey, even the apocalypse has its dull moments.
Things get dire for our misfits, however, when Shaun discovers a hoard of zombies trying to get in the back door. To make matters worse, Ed starts up an arcade game, attracting even more. It’s in these tense times that Barbara can no longer hide her bite, and David elects to shoot her before she gets worse. This is one of the film’s greatest scenes, which serves not only as a Fuck You, but tightens some of the film’s emotional core, and embraces the necessary sacrifice for any zombie film.
In proper comedy fashion, the scene is deadly serious with only a few quick laughs, which don’t take away from the struggle of the moment. I will go as far to say that Shaun’s emotional availability and crying in this scene is a Fuck You; however, a man’s toxicity would have to be lethal if he can’t even cry over the death of his own dear mother.
Also, one could argue that his threat to David with a smashed bottle is an act of toxic masculinity; using violence to express his emotions. But, guys, seriously, it’s his mum. I’d probably do the same.
A nice touch to the Fuck You of this scene is added when Diane states that the stand-off isn’t exactly fair. Ed kindly agrees and offers his own smashed bottle for her to hold to Shaun, grabbing another one, rather than telling her to “stay out of it.” How chaotically Hufflepuff of them.
Now, leave it to Liz to bring everyone back to earth after David is finally forced to face his feelings for her. Shaun must shoot his own mother, and in David’s pompous ways, he essentially says “told you so.” So, Shaun punches him the face, David tries to shoot Shaun, and ultimately, David flees, letting all the zombies in. For the villain in a film that raises a Middle Finger to toxic masculinity, he handles jealousy over an unrequited love like a total child, and fucks everyone over in the process. Which makes him the perfect prick for this story.
The zombies break in and we get a proper Wright showdown, complete with a perfectly choreographed fight scene set to Don’t Stop Me Now by Queen, and some breakdancing from Pegg’s teen years. This fine mixture of comedy and genuinely fun action is what makes every Wright movie so iconic, but especially those of The Cornetto Trilogy with Pegg’s input.
As zombies truly take over and it comes down to Shaun, Liz, and a badly injured Ed fleeing through the basement, we get one of the most touching parts of the film’s lead friendship and their greatest Fuck You – because this isn’t just a love story between Liz and Shaun, nor is it just a Hero’s Journey piece. And, for as funny as it is to watch Ed third wheel like an extra limb, there is some beautiful truth to that, isn’t there? We all have someone who’s been our person long before romance swept us up. I think there are times when a best friend is naturally part of a relationship in some way, because you don’t lose that history or connection. Simply put, the platonic love is often just as deep. It certainly is for Ed and Shaun.
With Ed clearly dying, he’s finally able to accept his fate and choose not to drag Shaun down, but to encourage him to escape to safety with Liz. Sure enough, Ed does have something of his own hero’s arc, after all. Shaun and Ed share a teary-eyed goodbye, with a loving head touch as Shaun gives him the shotgun and their last cigarette. With a final, “I love you” from Shaun, and a final “gaaay” from Ed, they’re off. Because, as we’ve learned, when it’s a call out from the writers, it’s still a Fuck You, ain’t it?
So, they make it out with the help of Yvonne, and in the perfectly comedic wrap up for what’s supposed to be a relatively light, though meaningful, story, it’s no more of an apocalypse than the current world we’re living in here in 2020. That is, it can feel like the end of the world, and the tragedy truly is of large scale devastation, but somehow we’re still carrying on. Zombies become a more containable part of the daily experience. While Shaun and Liz have happily settled into a mature, domestic life together, Ed remains undead and well in the backyard, living out his low-key life of having a good time. Honestly, just as he would have wanted. He didn’t need the same upgrade as Shaun, he just needed Shaun to be happy and balanced.
And finally, Shaun has found that balance between his girlfriend and his best friend, still carving out time to play video games and hang out with good ole Ed. And thus concludes our hilarious, riveting, touching story of everyday hero Shaun, supportive sidekick Ed, and their big, platonic, affectionate, emotionally available Middle Finger to toxic masculinity everywhere.
The thing that interests me most about all this, is how unintentional it may have been. There’s a very good chance it wasn’t done with any great intention to commentate on the state of men’s platonic relationships in the world – even if it was considered in the process, or a noted perk. Wright, Pegg, and Frost, in all their collaborations, have always struck me as a particularly non-toxic bunch. They’re likely just taking aspects of their own healthy experiences with relationships and applying them as fitted to this film, like most other artists.
Pegg has commented previously that he dislikes the term “bromance,” as there’s no equivalent for women friendships. And it’s a very valid point, as the need to nickname male bonding in its relationship to both romantic affections and the very masculine, “no-homo” energy of “bros” does, in itself, reek of toxic masculinity, even when well intended. Not to mention the sheer homophobia of it – a massive aspect of toxic masculinity.
But this notion that this Fuck You to toxic masculinity may have been unintentional, in itself, somehow reinforces the world we’re living in. That is, a world clouded in toxic masculinity, even when people aren’t partaking. Whether or not a film’s depiction of healthy, positive friendships, support, and expressing of emotions amongst men is intended to be a Fuck You, it is. Because we’re not used to seeing that. We don’t often have that in films, and particularly R rated comedies. Or films about kicking zombie ass. Whether we like it or not, healthy, platonic, men’s relationships somehow ending up being some sort of political statement, or at least an example. It’s a silly, sad notion, that people happily and healthily living their lives are forced into existing as walking, talking socio-political statements. But so often, it’s the truth. That’s how we lead by example.
What I love about this trio’s work, is how subtle it all is. They don’t preach (like I currently am), they simply normalize it. And who knows the immense difference it may be making in viewers’ lives? And now film students running blogs get to happily rant about it, over explaining and celebrating…
But these unintended politics are also a fact of fandom. Nerdy fandoms are often, unfortunately, scattered with straight men who somehow fail to pick up on half the films’ messaging, much to the annoyance of everyone else (men, women, and non-binary folks alike). Look at almost any Star Wars internet discussion and you’ll see it. I’m sure Shaun of the Dead, and The Cornetto Trilogy, are no different in many circumstances, on many Reddit forums. And maybe I’m too cynical. Maybe that’s part of what draws men to these films. Maybe it’s cathartic in some ways. Whether they realize it or not, maybe seeing relatable and affectionate male friendships onscreen touches something in them. Reminds them of their own closest friends; what they do have, or what they wish they could have.
So, next time you rewatch the zom com favourite, if you haven’t already, I hope you’ll take a moment to appreciate the subtle comfort, love, and affection of Shaun and Ed’s characters, relationship (I’m trying so hard not to say bromance, Simon), and the journey they happily embark on together. Because it’s more than a romantic comedy between Liz and Shaun.
Whether intentional or not, I’m thankful Wright, Pegg, and Frost so happily and healthily bring aspects of their real-life relationships onscreen in a genre so often full of both fun and toxic traits. I’m thankful they normalize it, without making a big deal of it, so I can now overanalyze and explain it. And I’m thankful that since 1999, the three of them continue to make us laugh our asses off in the process – with a few, relatable tears too.
Shaun of the Dead Photos from IMDb
Shaun of the Dead Cinematography by David M. Dunlap
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