City of the Living Dead serves as the opening chapter in what many fans regard as Lucio Fulci’s crowning achievement: the loosely connected Gates of Hell trilogy: City of the Living Dead, The Beyond, and The House By The Cemetery (all masterpieces in their own right). As an introduction to that nightmarish trilogy, City is incredibly effective, establishing many of the qualities that would become synonymous with Fulci’s brand of supernatural horror. Atmospheric, surreal, occasionally nonsensical, and packed from beginning to end with haunting imagery and gore.
Fulci, who died at 68 in 1996, possesses a remarkable ability to visualize what could best be described as hypnagogic hallucinations, presenting supernatural horror as if it exists somewhere between a nightmare and waking reality. He was like no other in horror cinema, so it makes sense he garnered such a dedicated cult following and inspired countless filmmakers and artists… The late auteur even has a pretty solid Italian metal band named after him: Listen to Fulci.
More than four decades later, City of the Living Dead remains one of the most distinctive entries in Italian horror cinema.
The combination of top-notch, outrageous practical effects; apocalyptic imagery; and an unforgettable score from Fabio Frizzi creates one of horror cinema’s most distinctive Lovecraftian visions of Hell on Earth. Few horror soundtracks are as instantly recognizable or as crucial to a film’s success as Frizzi’s work here. The recurring main theme drifts ominously throughout the film like a funeral dirge, imposing a constantly lingering sense of impending dread, and while it is reused (although slightly modified) from Fulci’s Zombie Flesh Eaters score, the triumphant yet brooding synth-heavy track that plays a few times towards the climax of the film is legitimately just one of the best songs ever put into a film soundtrack.
City of the Living Dead sits as one of Fulci’s strongest depictions of his signature nightmare logic, prioritizing atmosphere, dread, and excessive gore over conventional narrative structure. Donald Guarisco’s review for Schlockmania suggests that Fulci and screenwriter Dardano Sacchetti create a “malevolent dream-world” governed by its own internal rules rather than conventional reality. That observation perfectly captures the film’s appeal for me.
Characters behave irrationally, batshit crazy events occur without explanation, and the film’s incomprehensible “fuck you”-style ending refuses to provide easy answers. Instead of feeling frustrating, these choices make the experience feel increasingly unsettling, as though the audience has become trapped inside the same nightmare as the characters. Fulci possessed a truly one-of-a-kind ability to translate dreams onto the screen; I’d compare Fulci to an Italian sicko version of David Lynch.
Even the occasionally awkward dubbing, the characters’ NPC-like behavior, and the staggered pacing contribute to an atmosphere that feels fundamentally wrong, as though reality itself is beginning to deteriorate. Rather than weakening the film, these qualities create an overwhelming sense of dread. A fucking portal to Hell opened up; I don’t know what to tell you.
If any filmmaker could convincingly imagine what a portal to Hell might look and feel like in the real world, it was Fulci. The result is a film packed with set pieces that have created some of the most legendary moments in cult horror film history. Whether it is the infamous gut-puking sequence, the drill-bit scene, the relentless showers of maggots (actually thrown at the leading actors, much to their dismay), or the numerous skull-crushing images, Fulci repeatedly showcases an uncanny talent for creating scenes that make the audience wince in discomfort and become impossible to forget.
A fucking portal to Hell opened up; I don’t know what to tell you.
The maggot-covered cast also contributes much to the work. Christopher George (Pieces, Graduation Day) anchors the film with his rugged everyman bravado. In contrast, Catriona MacColl, who would become one of the main links between Fulci’s Gates of Hell trilogy, is solid as the former psychic resurrected from the dead on a mission to prevent the portal from opening.
Particular praise must also go to Giovanni Lombardo Radice (Stage Fright, Cannibal Ferox, House On The Edge Of The Park, etc.), one of Italian genre cinema’s great eccentrics, as Bob, the town outcast and convenient scapegoat for the growing hysteria in the New England town of Dunwich. Supporting roles from familiar Italian genre performers help populate Fulci’s world with an eccentric collection of priests, psychics, skeptics, and doomed townsfolk, and eagle-eyed viewers can even spot a brief appearance from Michele Soavi, the future director of Stage Fright, The Church, Dellamorte Dellamore, and the filmmaker I consider to be “the last great Italian cult director.”
Equally important is the film’s visual design. Fulci and cinematographer Sergio Salvati transform Dunwich into a decaying purgatory suspended between life and death. Empty streets, fog-shrouded graveyards, crumbling architecture, and windswept landscapes become extensions of the town’s supernatural evil. The sound design works in tandem to create an otherworldly atmosphere, filling Dunwich with eerie ambient noises, distant animal cries, and the relentless howl of high winds. Another contribution is the extraordinary special effects from Gino De Rossi, whose gruesome practical work gives Fulci’s nightmarish vision a tangible physicality.
You just weren’t getting shit like this in America at this time.
Part of what makes City of the Living Dead so enduring is how one-of-a-kind it remains. Decades after its release, scores of filmmakers have borrowed elements of Fulci’s style, from his dreamlike pacing and shocking practical effects to his willingness to prioritize atmosphere over narrative clarity. And yet.
Few filmmakers have successfully replicated the feelings City and his other films elicit. More than four decades later, City of the Living Dead remains one of the most distinctive entries in Italian horror cinema. Its inconsistencies and narrative gaps are inseparable from its appeal, functioning less as flaws than as extensions of the film’s dreamlike worldview. Fulci was chasing atmosphere, dread, and the feeling of witnessing reality unravel before your eyes. Few directors have ever done it better.
You just weren’t getting shit like this in America at this time.
More than anything else, City of the Living Dead succeeds because of how it feels. For fans of supernatural horror, practical effects, Lovecraftian dread, and surreal nightmare imagery, City of the Living Dead remains essential viewing and a powerful reminder of why Lucio Fulci remains one of the genre’s true masters. I absolutely adore Fulci’s films, and City of the Living Dead is a perfect launching pad into one of the greatest directors of all time.
City of the Living Dead streams on Amazon Prime Video, IndieFlix, PlutoTV, and Philo. For collectors and physical media enthusiasts, the film is also available on 4K UHD and Blu-ray in the United States through Cauldron Films, whose release presents Fulci’s surreal nightmare in unmatched detail. This set is loaded with special features and even includes a hidden “easter egg” VHS-rip presentation of the film for viewers who want to experience the horrors of Dunwich through a layer of authentic analog grime.
Watch the original US trailer for the film:
