Dear readers, while I think it a bit egotistical to assume that the cosmos continually realign themselves for our private elucidation, I cannot deny that signs do occasionally present themselves. Though I would not endorse falling into hysterics over every conveniently-timed crop aberration or midday blood moon, there are times when the portends of some notable occurrence are simply unavoidable. My Great Aunt Gertrude Hauntedhouse was informed by someone of the transient persuasion that she would die on her wedding night and her staunch avoidance of nuptials has kept her in good health for a period that seems to defy nature’s design. 

Equal creedence is given to these meaningful manifestations in Lucio Fulci’s City of the Living Dead, which documents a noticeable international uptick in omens. Mirrors shatter, docile domestic animals have little feral flares and walls crack open on their own. Much of this is the typical sort of stuff that can be easily explained by coincidence and low construction standards. But there are some more bothersome signs, such as seance participant Mary Woodhouse (Catriona MacColl) being so vexed by a vision of the future that she is pronounced dead on the scene from “sheer fright.”

Apparently, all this foreboding hullaballoo can be tracked back to the town of Dunwich, where a certain Father William Thomas (Fabrizio Jovine) has killed himself. The priest’s premature departure wedged open the gates of Hell and all manner of inconveniences may arise if this burgeoning hellmouth is allowed to blossom, the worst of which being that no living creature shall find peace in death ever again. Mary, who isn’t quite as dead as the official pronouncement would have you believe, is rescued from premature burial and united with the film’s episodic hodgepodge of potential protagonists. Together they unite to prevent the suddenly reanimated Father Thomas from succeeding in his plot to permanently unite Earth and Hades.

Anyone who has cultivated a fond familiarity with Lucio Fulci’s oeuvre will find plenty to love in this rather early supernatural venture. A storm of maggots engulfs an entire room and all the players in it, a woman vomits out every last drop of her insides and unrelated scraps of supernatural mythology are lobbed about with ease. Despite the high points there's some noticeable repetition and the audience is, for example, treated to the sight of brains being squeezed out the back of the skull on several occasions. Though this may fluster more impatient viewers, I must profess it is a privilege to watch the man honing his craft, repeating the same shot time and time again to make sure he gets it all right before moving on to his more important contributions. City of the Living Dead was the first in his “Gates of Hell” trilogy and the very next installment is a film whose superiority to its predecessor is perhaps attributable to this on-camera process of trial and error.

City of the Living Dead runs 93 minutes and does not possess a certified rating in the United States.