The current transformation from zombie to witch as the go-to horror storyboard is representative of a nuanced shift in our ever-changing sense of collective self-identity. Zombies are genderless. Zombies are identity-less. Zombies are, well... less.
Sunday's midseason 4 finale gave us the tide-turning battle we were expecting at the end of season 3, but this time each side had even more to lose.
For the last two episodes, The Governor's storyline has been in fast-forward while the prison's is on pause.
Two of the prison's biggest problems were solved at the end of last week's "Internment." But, just as the flu was being quelled with antibiotics and the fence-crushing walkers were furiously gunned down, we saw a familiar face lurking at the edge of the wood.
This week's episode was all about letting go, whether it be of dead loved ones, old insecurities, bad habits or a grudge so strong you'd put your own life in danger to hold it.
While you may be removing gooey fake blood, latex or fangs after a long night of candy corn and cocktails, the scares continue at the 23-year-old Universal Studios Orlando's Halloween Horror Nights event in Central Florida.
Not only how to survive Doomsday, but how to thrive afterward.
The show tells the story of a small band of survivors after modern society has been destroyed by a zombie outbreak. What are the ways that living with a new child is similar to surviving the zombie apocalypse?
So many crises, such little time.
The show is seeping into our culture and our lives in unexpected ways -- which means that it may have turned you without your being fully aware. Here are some telltale signs...
On Halloween I usually conjure up run-of-the-mill ghosts, ghouls, and goblins to scare little kids away so I don't have to share my candy with them. This year, I've decided to actually contact a dead celebrity instead, to find out how they're enjoying their afterlife life. I figured G for Ghost, and double that for good luck.
I'll admit I was a little apprehensive at first. I'm a fan of scary movies but I wasn't so sure a zombie apocalypse would be quite right for me. Blood and guts? For sure. Remotely believable? Probably not.
The physical security, budding romantic relationships and Rick's new farmer status we saw last week are all threatened in "Infected," both by a deadly virus and a deadly paranoia.
I caught up with executive producer Gale Anne Hurd, who discusses what she's looking forward to in Season 4 and gives us some insights into her next project, a WWII-era pilot for USA titled Horizon.
Unlike previous seasons, the enemy of Season 4 appears to be neither a worldwide epidemic, nor a friend-turned-foe, nor a megalomaniacal Governor. It's a sickness that kills you in less than a day and leaves you hungering for human flesh -- inside a secured facility filled with sleeping, innocent men, women and children.
Do they WANT this? Do they WANT to have to carry around swords and worry that grandma isn't grandma but is instead a ravenous crocodilian humanoid (who nevertheless still wears her apron) and who will never, ever again bring you a holiday present?