The dead don’t walk—they riot. Romero’s 1968 shockwave turns a quiet farmhouse into ground zero for America’s buried sins. Grainy, grimy, and guttural, this is no mere zombie flick—it’s a black-and-white gut punch soaked in blood and rage. The dead rise, but it’s the living who rot from the inside. Duane Jones leads with stone-cold gravity, and the night never ends—it festers. This is where the horror began, and it never really stopped.