'Fido'

As its name might suggest, "Fido" is here to make you howl.

With laughter, not fear.

In what is clearly the funniest of all zombie spoofs (better even than the outrageously witty "Shaun of the Dead" and "Dead Alive"), "Fido" transports us back to the 1950s, post-Zombie Wars era when mankind has triumphed over the walking dead and, thanks to the ZomCon corporation, even learned to domesticate its onetime enemy.

After a grainy, black-and-white opening that gives us the back story, we're swept into Smalltown, USA -- in this case Willard, where the colors are bright, the neighbors friendly and zombies deliver the newspaper ... or mail ... or drinks on the lawn.

ZomCon's head of security, Mr. Bottoms (Henry Czerny), moves in across the street from the Robinsons -- Helen and Bill (a perfectly cast Carrie-Anne Moss and Dylan Baker) and only child Timmy (K'Sun Ray). In the blink of an eye, Mr. Bottoms is a guest at Timmy's school, asking how many kids have had to kill a zombie. Lonely Timmy doesn't raise his hand, although several others do, including a couple of obnoxious ZomCon cadets.

But Timmy does raise his hopes when he discovers that his mom, determined to keep up with the Jones- es, has purchased a zombie servant, much to his dad's chagrin (he has a phobia). It's soon clear Timmy and the zombie will bond. He names him Fido (played by the wonderfully emotive but nonspeaking Billy Connolly), and thus begins the coolest, most unique spin on all those boy-and-his-dog adventure stories.

But as we all know, pets make mistakes. "That's Mrs. Henderson!" Timmy shouts when he finds Fido having an afternoon snack after his shock-zapping collar short-circuits, forcing Timmy to dispose of the evidence.

From that moment on, the two are inseparable, even when the conspiratorial Mr. Bottoms threatens to break their bond.

"Fido," just out on DVD (Lionsgate; $28.98), is directed by Andrew Currie, who co-wrote the screenplay with Robert Chomiak and Dennis Heaton. Together, they concoct a recipe for an instant cult classic -- a smidgen of horror, a dollop of cultural commentary and a whole lot of comedy. In the process, they also let you savor the kind of big-screen cinematography their grandparents used to enjoy.

One scene in particular -- Timmy and Fido run away and are seen strolling through a gorgeous landscape -- is at once serene and side-splitting. And it leads to the film's best and funniest scene, a hilarious homage to "Lassie."

By the way, "Fido" comes with some pretty nifty extras, including a better-than-average "making of" featurette. You also get to see Connolly's transformation into Fido, some deleted scenes, the storyboard process and audio commentary both for the movie and the music.

It's a pleasure to think the genre our own George Romero created back in 1968 with "Night of the Living Dead" has spawned such an amazing array of creativity -- from suspense to shock to satire. "Fido" leads the pack, so to speak.

Now, go fetch!

'Night of the Living Dead 3D'

You know the saying -- from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Never was that more true than with "Night of the Living Dead 3D," a low-budget, poorly written, woefully directed, horribly acted piece of tripe.

This supposed "remake" of Romero's film starts promisingly enough with Barbara (Brianna Brown) and Johnny (Ken Ward) in the familiar cemetery. Johnny's attacked, Barbara runs to a nearby mortuary that's crawling with zombies and, in the nick of time, is saved by proprietor Gerald Tovar Jr. (Sid Haig), who whacks one of the living dead with a shovel, telling our fair damsel to hightail it out of there because he's "having a situation."

But it's all downhill from there. Barb winds up at the Coopers' farmhouse -- they grow marijuana -- to await the inevitable. Sure enough, the zombies arrive, we get some gore, a little gratuitous sex, a bit of unintentional humor and some insipid dialogue seemingly written by middle-school thespians who, no doubt, could have delivered it to greater effect.

The 3-D effects -- the DVD (Lionsgate; $26.98; lousy extras) comes with cardboard spectacles -- are mostly pathetic and always unnecessary. Well, maybe with one exception: A stoner farmhand offers a joint to a compatriot, and the effect is to make it appear as if his arm is reaching into your living room.

Look, I'm not advocating drug use, but this film was enough to get me to reach back.