Defined by the shuffling undead and its creation, George A. Romero was always going to struggle with his non-zombie features. His career, even after his passing, has been defined by the …of the Dead series, and rightly so to some degree. Iconographic masterclasses, real workings of the genre that are still defined by his initial trilogy that soon spiralled out of control. It is clear to see where his influences lie and where they are still sprouting up to this day. Martin, then, sees Romero stick to his guns but for a different, essential monster on the screen. He turns his attention to vampires and turns the oddities of a brooding teenager into that of a chilling, 84-year-old vampire.
Gothic horror at its finest in parts, and not a moment to lose, Martin spends no time at all wasting itself on introducing its location or style. It is deep into the action right away, and a cold-cut train journey awaits audiences. Articulating this off-putting momentum is no small feat, but the simplicity of Romero’s camerawork here is a chilling and necessary change of pace. What the eponymous character, played by John Amplas, perceives will happen, compared to what actually does. Amplas is twisted and creative in this leading role, it is a shame he fell prey to the inevitably short lifespan of horror actors of this time. Still, his fine work can be appreciated and audiences can see that wasted opportunity spread across the screen.
Romero does a great job of highlighting Amplas’ talents. A constant barrage of real fear and chills are cut through with extreme close-ups that shift the camera with sudden and inspired movements. Baby photos, out-of-focus moments break up the relative simplicity of the conversation between concerned characters. It is the quick editing between Lincoln Maazel and Christine Forrestt as they discuss an out-of-eyesight Martin that inspires some real quality. Zooming out from framed photographs, low-hanging shots, and narration that flows through into exceptionally choreographed shots. Romero throws a lot at Martin and it is more surprising than anything to see just how much manages to stick. It is no risk to craft a vampire movie, but to mark one as so strangely unique in moments that should not matter all that much is a fascinating exploration of the genre.
From the elderly relative in the full white suit to the constantly downbeat rampage on display not just from the titular character but by those around him, Martin is a truly moody movie. It goes beyond that layer of awkward leading antagonists with something to prove as they brood their way through low-shot, shadowed scenes. Romero moves beyond that. He would surely not be content with just the bare bones. That he is not, and it shows throughout Martin, with religious symbolism bleeding through into the third act and bleeding into characters who prove just how far they are willing to go to prevent what they perceive as the potential for great evil. Sex as a trade-off for bloodlust is a surely concerning counter for Martin, but is that not the point? Romero indicates it may be the case and that the sensations for the leading character are more or less the same. Beyond its potential meanings, Martin is a chilling and bloody exploration into the ambiguous nature of vampires on screen, and what they are truly meant to represent to audiences.
