Cancel the 2005 Academy Awards. The contest is over.

Rating: Null/10 (15 June 2004)

I'm going to save everyone a lot of time and money on the 77th Annual Academy Awards by just coming out and telling you what's going to win. No point in watching the show next year because one movie alone will dominate the Oscars in every category (except drama, because A. nobody watches drama and B. it's not a category): DAWN OF THE DEAD.
This movie stomps so much ass that they have to import colons from other countries to meet the demand. The movie starts out with this chick (who is a 6 at the beginning, but by the end of the movie you're thinking she's an 8 because it's non-stop tit-sagging from fat zombie bitches from this point on) in a hospital, then she talks to her co-worker for what seems like hours and you think you're in the wrong movie because already there's way too much dialogue/plot building or whatever you call it.
That's where the genius of the director comes in: he made it like this on purpose so you'll have time to adjust your face before it's rocked off. Almost immediately after that there's a shower scene which sucks because there's a guy in it and you have to state loudly that you think it's "gay" or something along those lines so nobody will question your sexuality. Then it's onto the zombies.
The zombies in this movie are the ultimate evolution of the walking dead. Forget the wuss-burger zombies in "28 Days Later" that eventually die on their own, these zombies are the real deal. First of all, these zombies are fast (even the fat ones). Imagine the fastest Olympic runner you've ever seen, now double that speed and pretend the zombies aren't from Kenya. That's how fast these zombies move, which sucks if you're a zombie because you get your balls stomped on by an army of undead ball-stompers if you trip.
Right off the bat the chick at the beginning (who I'll call Mope Master because she looks like she's about to cry in every scene) gets the beat down by her ex-human now-zombie husband. So then she bails and gets in a car wreck because women can't drive. Then Ving Rhames threatens to blow her head off, which is cool. They meet up with some pregnant Mexican chick, a black thug, and a middle-aged white man.
They eventually go to a mall where some dude with a badass handlebar moustache accosts them; before he even says anything, you automatically know he listens to Pantera. His buddies, on the other hand, look like they drink Keystone Light and go shopping for purses. Anyway, the Pantera guy totally wants to bang Mope Master, so he lets them stay in the mall. Then they go around killing rogue zombies for about 45 minutes, no complaining from me.
All the zombie actors were awesome and deserve best supporting actor awards for their inspired acting work. These are thespians; they're pros at what they do. Just sit back and admire their art.
So here I am watching the movie and it's pretty badass, but then out of nowhere *WHAM*. Tits on the screen. Like finding an unexpected $20 in the wash, the director throws in some jugs for good measure. I know you're asking "but it already sounds awesome, why go on?" Why indeed. Stop reading this review and go see Dawn of the Dead.