A blinding quick start, a blistering blitzkrieg pace, and a sincere determination to drive the viewer to panic, to nausea, or to suicide, have earned this semi-professional shoestringer a high place among the midnight cult movies. Among its more notable attributes (going from bad to better) are some atrocious amateur acting, some technical crudity, some gruesome makeup, some unexpectedly funny and accurate parodies of TV-radio news coverage, and some sleep-preventive aftereffects. Made in Pittsburgh, Pa.; directed by George A. Romero. (1968) — Duncan Shepherd
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