In our current age when films seem to be solely composed of reboots, remakes, and re-imaginings, it really should come to no surprise that the film Conan the Barbarian is being remade and set for release next year. Some might curse to the high heavens because the original Conan was a pretty good fantasy film. While the film didn’t so much capture the Conan’s character, it did manage to show the spirit of Robert Howard’s stories. The film was the break-out role for Arnold Schwarzenegger. In it, he did a good job playing the wandering barbarian through several adventures as he attempts to avenge the death of his people.

The follow-up film, Conan the Destroyer, became more of a comic book adventure. Instead of the brooding melancholy of the first story, we were subjected to bumbling wisecracks of his thief companion and his merry gang of thieves. The tale of the savage Cimmerian was lost under a drunken plot whereby actors spent more time posing with their weapons as opposed to telling a convincing story. The most ironic thing about that movie is that the closest character resembling Howard’s Conan was played by Grace Jones.

Now we have a third film that apes the first set for release next year. In this new film, Conan’s father is killed and the savage Cimmerian quests the landscape to avenge his father’s death. I have yet to read the later stories or Howard’s novellas, but nowhere does he mention the dead of his parents. I’m thinking the writers have always taken the avenging route because it helps explains Conan’s savage nature. One might not be too empathic with a person who loves the feel of his steel cutting through flesh as opposed to a person trying address a great wrong in his life. Mind you, I’m not saying it won’t work. I’m just saying this doesn’t sound like Conan.

Well … time will tell. I’ve already seen one of the stills and the barbarian looks to be using hair products. Needless to say, my enthusiasm is muted. In any case, if you haven’t read Conan, do yourself a favor and do it. Mind you, they were written in the thirties so some of the stories can get pretty racist and the depiction of women is a little barbaric itself, but for the most part, they are pretty entertaining.

So what the hell does this have to do with zombies? Awhile back I was reading one of Howard’s stories title The Scarlet Citadel where Conan runs into a genuine modern zombie when none such existed back in the day. Granted, the zombie is created by a wizard’s spell and the creature doesn’t long to eat human flesh, but the creature appears a good fifty years before Romero planted them in the public mindset. Here’s the section from the story:

Pelias laughed, and his laugh was not pleasant to hear.

“By the ivory hips of Ishtar, who is our doorman? Lo, it is no less than the noble Shukeli, who hanged my young men by their feet and skinned them with squeals of laughter! Do you sleep, Shukeli? Why do you lie so stiffly, with your fat belly sunk in like a dressed pig’s?”

“He is dead,” muttered Conan, ill at ease to hear these wild words.

“Dead or alive,” laughed Pelias, “he shall open the door for us.”

He clapped his hands sharply and cried, “Rise, Shukeli! Rise from hell and rise from the bloody floor and open the door for your masters! Rise, I say!”

An awful groan reverberated through the vaults. Conan’s hair stood on end and he felt clammy sweat bead his hide. For the body of Shukeli stirred and moved, with infantile gropings of the fat hands. The laughter of Pelias was merciless as a flint hatchet, as the form of the eunuch reeled upright, clutching at the bars of the grille. Conan, glaring at him, felt his blood turn to ice, and the marrow of his bones to water; for Shukeli’s wide-open eyes were glassy and empty, and from the great gash in his belly his entrails hung limply to the floor. The eunuch’s feet stumbled among his entrails as he worked the bolt, moving like a brainless automaton. When he had first stirred, Conan had thought that by some incredible chance the eunuch was alive; but the man was dead–had been dead for hours.

Pelias sauntered through the opened grille, and Conan crowded through behind him, sweat pouring from his body, shrinking away from the awful shape that slumped on sagging legs against the grate it held open. Pelias passed on without a backward glance, and Conan followed him, in the grip of nightmare and nausea. He had not taken half a dozen strides when a sodden thud brought him round. Shukeli’s corpse lay limply at the foot of the grille.

“His task is done, and hell gapes for him again,” remarked Pelias pleasantly; politely affecting not to notice the strong shudder which shook Conan’s mighty frame.

Pretty ‘effing cool.

The Scarlet Citadel (gutenberg.net.au <- new window)