Introduction: Death of a Franchise
By 2005, Return of the Living Dead was already on life support. What began as a sharp, punk-horror satire in 1985 had devolved into a hollow echo of its former self, like your cool uncle who once saw the Ramones live but now DJs at a middle school dance. Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave is the fifth installment, filmed back-to-back with Necropolis, and it shows: both movies look like they were made with the same Eastern European tax break and the same enthusiasm you’d bring to unclogging a toilet.
This movie tries to inject new life into the series by combining zombies with ecstasy pills and a rave. Instead, it feels like your grandparents trying to explain EDM: loud, embarrassing, and guaranteed to kill the vibe.
The Plot: Party Like It’s 1999 (Because It Feels That Dated)
The movie opens with Charles Garrison (Peter Coyote, whose agent owes him a fruit basket of apologies) transporting a canister of Trioxin. Things go wrong, because of course they do, and he gets killed along with some other forgettable extras.
Cut to our college “heroes,” who stumble across more barrels of Trioxin and decide to—naturally—turn it into pills called “Z.” Because when you find a mysterious chemical that foams people at the mouth and kills them instantly, the obvious entrepreneurial move is to sell it at a rave. Move over, Mark Zuckerberg—this is Silicon Valley-level innovation.
As expected, the pills spread, the ravers turn into zombies, and the movie devolves into ninety minutes of strobe lights, bad dialogue, and brain-eating. The military eventually bombs the rave, because nothing says “climax” like the Air Force doing your job for you.
The Characters: Discount Scooby-Doo Gang
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Julian (John Keefe): Our leading man, charisma-free since birth. He delivers lines like a man reading IKEA instructions.
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Jenny (Jenny Mollen): The Final Girl by default. She’s less “scream queen” and more “girl trying to survive finals week.”
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Cody (Cory Hardrict): The “scientist” who tests Trioxin on humans, making him less Bill Nye and more Josef Mengele at Burning Man.
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Jeremy (Cain Mihnea Manoliu): Jenny’s brother, who eats a pill like it’s a Tic Tac and foams at the mouth. The closest thing the movie has to a PSA.
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Skeet: The dealer who distributes “Z” at the rave. Looks like he got lost on his way to a Fast & Furious audition.
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Aldo and Gino Serra: Interpol agents, or at least cosplay versions of them. Their accents are thicker than the plot.
Not one of these characters is memorable. You could swap their names around and the movie wouldn’t notice. They’re not survivors so much as placeholders for zombie fodder.
The Zombies: Now With Techno
Zombie movies live or die by their undead. In Rave to the Grave, the zombies are mostly background extras covered in gray paint, stumbling through strobe lights while a DJ yells “drop the beat!” They don’t feel threatening. They feel like underpaid rave-goers regretting their life choices.
Tarman makes a cameo at the end, still asking for “Brains!” but even he looks embarrassed, as though his contract forced him into this gig. When your iconic mascot looks like he’s one scene away from hitchhiking back to a better franchise, you know things are dire.
The Setting: Welcome to Romania (But Don’t Mention It)
Like Necropolis, this movie was shot in Romania, standing in for Generic American College Town™. The attempt to pass Eastern European suburbs off as U.S. soil is laughable. The frat houses look like Cold War bunkers, the classrooms look like they were rented by the hour, and the rave is just a warehouse with glow sticks.
It’s less “college campus” and more “illegal squatters’ rave hosted by a guy named Boris.”
The Tone: Comedy Without Jokes, Horror Without Scares
The original Return of the Living Dead balanced comedy and horror with biting satire. Rave to the Grave attempts comedy but settles for slapstick gags that wouldn’t pass in a middle-school talent show. As for horror, it delivers no scares—just gore lite and zombies shuffling under rave lights like confused uncles at a wedding reception.
There’s even a scene where ravers take multiple “Z” pills despite being warned not to. Watching them convulse and turn undead is less horror and more Darwin Awards: The Movie.
The Effects: Glow Sticks and Grocery Store Makeup
The special effects are bottom-shelf. Zombie makeup looks like talcum powder and black eyeliner. Blood splatters like ketchup packets stomped at a McDonald’s. The rave set design is strobe lights, glow sticks, and a fog machine someone forgot to refill.
Even the bomb at the end looks like a stock explosion clip downloaded off LimeWire. By 2005, Shaun of the Dead had already proven horror-comedy could be sharp and stylish. This movie looks like it was edited on a family laptop.
The Drug Angle: Nancy Reagan, Call Your Office
Turning Trioxin into rave drugs called “Z” is the movie’s one big idea, and it’s about as subtle as an after-school special. “Don’t do drugs, kids, or you’ll foam at the mouth, die, and come back as a zombie.” It’s Reefer Madness with glow sticks.
If the filmmakers were going for social commentary, it failed. If they were going for comedy, it failed harder. Instead, it feels like the movie was written by someone whose only experience with drugs was reading a D.A.R.E. pamphlet in 1987.
The Ending: Deus Ex Bomber
The military drops a bomb on the rave, killing everyone and wrapping the movie in one giant shrug. Jenny and Julian crawl out of the rubble alive, which is a shame because watching them try to “act” through another installment would be the real horror. Meanwhile, Tarman misses the party entirely, stuck on the roadside, still yelling “Brains!” like a drunk karaoke regular who doesn’t know when to quit.
Performances: Acting in Zombie Makeup Doesn’t Count
Aimee-Lynn Chadwick, Cory Hardrict, John Keefe, Jenny Mollen—they all do their best, but their best is not good. The Interpol agents might as well be reading their lines phonetically. Peter Coyote looks like he’s already mentally spending his paycheck. Even Tarman feels phoned in.
It’s not acting; it’s hostage footage.
Legacy: Rest in Pieces
Rave to the Grave is remembered—when it’s remembered at all—as the moment the Return of the Living Dead franchise was buried for good. After this, nobody asked for another sequel. Nobody petitioned for a reboot. The series shuffled into its own grave, groaning “Brains…” one last time.
The saddest part? The original Return of the Living Dead was brilliant—funny, scary, punk rock horror at its best. Watching Rave to the Grave is like watching that same punk rocker 20 years later, working children’s parties in clown makeup.
Final Verdict: Party Foul
Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave is a movie that misunderstands both raves and zombies. It’s not scary, it’s not funny, and it’s not fun. It’s a limp glow stick of a movie, cracking weakly before fading into darkness.
If you want zombies at a party, watch Return of the Living Dead (1985). If you want a rave, watch literally anything else. If you want both, then congratulations—you’ve found the one movie guaranteed to ruin them simultaneously.
Because in the end, the only thing “raving” here is the audience, begging for the credits to roll.
