Of the
many metaphorical uses of zombieism on In
the Flesh, the clearest and most direct comparison can be drawn to mental
illness. In fact, writer Dominic
Mitchell evidently conceived the show as a drama about a young (living) man
returning home from a mental health facility after a violent incident, but he
decided that zombies would let him to explore his themes in freer, more
inventive ways (also, let’s face it – zombies are a lot more “in” right
now.) Spoilers ahead.
At the
barest description, those with PDS, in their rabid states, aren’t in their
right minds. They can’t control their
actions, and they hurt people, even those close to them. After treatment, they come back to themselves
and are horrified at what they did unawares (Simon killed his mom in his untreated state – doesn’t get
much worse than that.) Despite doctors’
assurances that it’s not their fault, they can’t shake the guilt, and the world
at large certainly blames them. In
situations like this, this allegory can be tricky, since the “people with
mental illness” in the scenario killed countless people and literally ate their brains (like in District 9, where the “black South
Africans” are giant bugs from space.) If
I lived with mental illness, I can imagine taking offense at the
comparison. However, brain-eating aside,
the parallel is drawn with such thoughtful care that I think I’d find it
affirming. Though the medicated PDS folk
are affected by their condition physically (undead appearance, cold to the
touch, can’t eat or drink) and psychologically (post-traumatic nightmares/flashbacks,
severe guilt, newfound phobias,) the series affirms that they’re not inherently
damaged or dangerous. With their PDS
under control, they live, work and love, and while their official label is “PDS
sufferer,” they spend plenty of time getting on with life, not suffering at
all. Yes, Kieren is undead. He did awful things he couldn’t help, and he’s
colored by his experiences – however, at his heart, he’s still the same young
man he was before.
There
are struggles, the daily injections and the fear of a repeat episode, but the
greatest hurdle isn’t PDS itself but the public’s perception of it. The living throw around epithets with nary a
thought and regard the treated undead as murderous “creatures.” Around people with PDS, they’re wary at best
and hostile at worst, expecting fresh attacks at any time. They liken medication to flimsy leashes on
mad dogs, and they think regression is inevitable. If they see someone without makeup/contacts
or feel someone’s cold skin, they’re at once on guard – who let the monsters back into society? Rumors and unfounded speculation on the
medication’s efficacy circulate, and everyone has a story about a friend who
knows someone who turned rabid again, just like that, without warning. Better off locking them all up (the treatment
center has shades of One Flew Over the
Cuckoo’s Nest, albeit on a much larger scale – untreated zombies can’t complain
about their rights being violated, and no one listens to the protests of the
treated.)
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