What number of journalists does it take to make a B-motion picture around a band of cops and hoodlums getting eaten by zombies? The Horde credits five: a noteworthy count for a film that offers minimal more than a transport line of battles and nibbles, gunfire and gouging. Yet, hey-ho so here we go, from penthouse to asphalt, as our trigger-glad escapees come hurtling through a neglected French tower piece, exhausting round after round into the shadows, where the beasts hold up to snatch them.
The drop is hard, quick and discordant, and it drives the characters silly. After a short time they are bug-peered toward and blood-splashed, kept to stating “Urrgh!” and “Arrgh!”, all reason gone. Meanwhile we sit oblivious, similar to the hapless animals in Animal Farm, looking from man to zombie and attempting to tell just which one is which.