Nonetheless, amid these faults, there is one unmissable glint of wit: the sad and lovely suggestion that the undead, as we are told, gravitate towards things they did when they were alive. In Dawn of the Dead, they invaded a shopping mall, like crazed consumers, but in Jarmuschs film they patrol the streets like ghosts, intoning their lost desiresCoffee, Snapple, Wi-Fi, Snickers, Bluetooth. Pale, deceased children plead for Popsicles
A regular smoker can toss their jacket over the back of a chair, and everyone at the dinner table is gifted with the smoky obituary of their most recently smoked cigarette, and the fading memory of all those that came before it
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