You can take it as a given that if you’re interested in a phenomenon, Japan will produce an exaggerated version of it to demonstrate your point. In this case, I was intrigued to read about a new trend in Japanese gaming in which players lay waste not to barbarian hordes or space monsters, but targets closer to home resembling their families or colleagues. The usual response at this point is to go ‘Oh, those wacky Japanese’, but in this particular instance it made me realise just how close that kind of casual carnage is to the violence meted out to zombies.

Think about it. Zombies are the ultimate guilt-free kill. You’ve got to off them or you’ll be bitten and become one yourself. If that’s not self defence, what is? And if the zombie in question used to be an aunt who bought you grotesque tanktops, or a boss with an irritating laugh, well that just gives added oomph to your fighting arm when you’re taking them down. Reminder: this is us we’re talking about, not funny foreigners at a comfortable distance in a Tokyo prefecture.

All of which provides a fascinating backdrop to Zombieland, which is quite probably the film I’ve enjoyed most this year. My expectations were not high, so I was surprised to discover a well-crafted film of considerable humour and warmth, resting on a quality script by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick. Kudos also to director Ruben Fleischer, who casts the film well and is equally adroit handling comedy, shock, and scenes that are genuinely touching.

Who would have thunk a film that features numerous inventive ways of despatching zombies is ultimately about finding family? Substitute zombies for the assholes in your own life, and it all starts to make sense. Wouldn’t it be cool to blast away the jerks who hold you back, impede your progress, and generally make life an unsatisfying experience for you? And wouldn’t it be cooler still to do so in the comfort of friends who really do have your back?

Ultimately, that’s the promise of Zombieland: a world in which you can blow away all the assholes with no fear of retribution, and the only living people left are cool to hang out with. Not that this sentimentality is there from the word go, of course: instead, it creeps up on you, first in the company of Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), then with his new buddy Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson), and later the sisters they hook up with and gradually come to trust, Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin).

The characters are named for the destinations they’re separately headed for, but in practice the four of them unite at a theme park outside of Los Angeles, a superb setting for the film’s climax, after a hilarious interlude featuring Bill Murray as himself. The action in the theme park works to bring the characters together and demonstrate they really are a family of sorts, while providing some fabulous set pieces for them to dispose of zombie predators on rollercoasters, swinging galleons, and the other paraphernalia of the theme park.

What’s fascinating is how successfully the film camouflages what’s quite a conservative message within the trappings of the zombie genre. When George Romero first started making zombie movies they were satires in which the zombie was us, the viewer, a passive consumer in a society devoted to excess. Zombieland demonstrates, with greater humour and scope than Shaun of the Dead, the closest it has to a peer, that the zombie film can be used for other purposes, and does so with surprising intelligence and warmth.

All of which suggests that the zombie genre is more mutable than might be supposed. Like the science fiction film or western, it may be that all kinds of stories can be told using the bare tropes of the zombie movie. In which case, I look forward to seeing more examples that do something as interesting with the genre as Zombieland has. But whether those other films will be as all-round fun as this one, I very much doubt.