What if the godfather of zombie cinema had tackled one of gaming’s most iconic horror franchises? It’s a question that’s haunted fans for decades, and while we’ll never see George A. Romero’s full-length Resident Evil film, a new book offers a tantalizing glimpse into what could have been. On the Set of Resident Evil 2: The TV Commercial isn’t just a behind-the-scenes look at a 30-second ad—it’s a portal to a lost chapter in horror history.
A Cult Classic in 30 Seconds
In 1997, Capcom made a bold move by hiring Romero to direct a Japanese TV commercial for Resident Evil 2. On the surface, it’s a strange pairing: a Western horror legend crafting a promo for a Japanese game. But what makes this particularly fascinating is how Romero’s vision transcended cultural boundaries. His ability to distill the game’s essence into a brief, visceral experience is a masterclass in adaptation. Personally, I think this commercial is more than just marketing—it’s a proof of concept for what Romero’s Resident Evil film might have achieved.
What many people don’t realize is how rare it is for a game developer to hand creative control to a filmmaker of Romero’s caliber. Capcom’s decision was daring, and the result is a cult artifact that feels both nostalgic and ahead of its time. If you take a step back and think about it, this commercial is a bridge between two eras: the golden age of practical effects and the dawn of gaming’s cinematic ambitions.
The Book as Time Capsule
Norman England’s On the Set of Resident Evil 2 is more than a book—it’s a time capsule. Through journal entries, set photos, and interviews, England captures the chaos and creativity of Romero’s process. One thing that immediately stands out is the raw energy of the production. Romero, alongside actors like Brad Renfro, brought a level of intensity to a project that could have easily been phoned in.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the inclusion of vintage magazine articles and production documents. These aren’t just extras; they’re windows into the mindset of the era. In the late ’90s, the line between games and film was still blurry, and this book shows how both industries were grappling with that convergence. What this really suggests is that Romero’s commercial wasn’t just a one-off—it was a harbinger of the multimedia collaborations we take for granted today.
Why This Matters Beyond Fandom
From my perspective, this book isn’t just for Resident Evil or Romero diehards. It’s a study in creative collisions. What happens when a visionary filmmaker meets a groundbreaking game? The answer, as this book reveals, is magic. But it’s also a reminder of what’s lost when studios play it safe. Romero’s Resident Evil film never materialized, and the franchise took a very different path under Paul W.S. Anderson.
This raises a deeper question: How many other ‘what ifs’ are buried in Hollywood’s history? Romero’s commercial is a testament to the power of taking risks, even on a small scale. In an era where franchises are meticulously planned and focus-grouped, this book feels like a rebel yell from a wilder, more experimental time.
The Legacy of a Lost Vision
Personally, I think the most compelling aspect of this story is its sense of possibility. Romero’s commercial is a fragment of a larger, unmade narrative—a ghost story in more ways than one. It invites us to imagine what could have been, but also to appreciate what we have. The book’s interviews with Romero, Renfro, and others offer a rare glimpse into the minds of creators who were pushing boundaries.
What makes this particularly poignant is the passage of time. Romero passed away in 2017, and Renfro in 2008. This book is a tribute to their artistry, but also a challenge to us: How do we honor the visions that never came to be? In a way, On the Set of Resident Evil 2 is a call to embrace the chaos, the experimentation, and the ‘what ifs’ that make art so thrilling.
Final Thoughts
If you’re a fan of horror, gaming, or just great storytelling, this book is essential. But even if you’re not, it’s a fascinating study in creativity and collaboration. What this really suggests is that sometimes, the most interesting stories are the ones that never fully materialized. Romero’s Resident Evil commercial is a footnote in history, but it’s also a reminder of the power of imagination.
In my opinion, the true value of this book lies in its ability to inspire. It’s not just about what was—it’s about what could still be. So, will I be adding this to my collection? Absolutely. Because in a world of sequels and reboots, stories like this are a rare reminder of what happens when artists are allowed to dream.
