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Thursday, November 16, 2006Fear Without Frontiers
Horror Cinema Across the Globe
2003, FAB Press. Edited by Steven Schneider.
Fear without Frontiers covers much of the same material that was presented to readers in Mondo Macabro, but with a significantly different approach. The subject matter is horror, fantasy, and phantasmagorical thrillers from all over the world, with essays contributed by a host of different authors. Most of what you expect (if you are a fan of such films) to be present, is: new wave Hong Kong horror films, Italian zombie and giallo films, Takashi Miike, Coffin Joe -- still puttin' scorpions on chubby ladies after all these years. There are also chapters about Bollywood horror films from the 1980s, Filipino horror, and the new wave of Korean horror and thriller films. These are all welcome inclusions, and even if the material has been documented to various degrees elsewhere, there is plenty of new material to make the chapters well worth exploring. Where Fear without Frontiers really starts to excel is when it's delving into material that is rarely written about in English-language publications. Chapters on the films of Jorge Molina and Paul Naschy respectively are both welcome examinations of filmmakers who have never really gotten the same level of attention as cult darlings like Dario Argento and Lucio Fulci. And I admire anyone that tries to tackle the films of Alexandro Jodorowsky in a way that makes any sort of sense at all. While the chapter on giallo is expected, what isn't is the amount of time it spends on more obscure (at least in the United States) titles, rather than the usual suspects from Dario Argento and a few select others. And a few topics were entirely unknown to me: the Edgar Wallace krimis, a chapter on incredibly cool looking Mexican horror films from the 1930s, Austrian psycho movies, polish horror -- Fear without Frontiers is so packed with great stuff that at time sit almost becomes too much to process! The book is split into three sections based on the types of articles. Part one focuses on individual filmmakers, part two revolves around film cycles, and part three looks at general genres. And then Miike and the "Dark Angel" films from Japan get their own section. Although the articles vary in tone, they remain consistently high in terms of their quality and worth to anyone looking for more information on the obscure nooks and crannies of horror cinema from around the world. Although the book isn't written as a comparison and contrast of cinema from different parts of the world, it certainly serves as such if the reader is willing to put the whole picture together. The essay approach to each topic means the book can cover a lot of territory, though most of these chapters deal with topics that could easily become entire books of their own (I can't believe no one has written a Coffin Joe book yet -- I reckon they're afraid he'll show up one night in his spooky cloak and put a spider on them). As was the case with Mondo Macabro, you're often left hungry for even more information and greater detail on the subjects. I always like a film book that inspires me to go out and launch a search for the films discussed within it, and Fear without Frontiers certainly provides plenty of additions to the "must find list." Luckily, the DVD market seems committed to releasing a lot of these films, so as long as you have Internet access and a multi-region player, finding these phantasmagoric films is easier now than it used to be (the bulk of 80s Bollywood horror remains MIA as of this review -- though the Mondo macabre DVD label seems to be poised to rectify the situation -- and most Turkish films are still only available on VCD with no translation). In addition to volumes of information and critical analysis, Fear without Frontiers is jam-packed with beautiful illustrations, including several full-color glossy pages reproducing promo shots and poster art. If you're the type of person who likes to spend time exploring the far-flung reaches of global cinema in search of the weirdest stuff you can imagine, Fear without Frontiers is an absolutely essential -- not to mention entertaining and well-written -- sampler platter of what's waiting for you. Labels: Film Studies posted by Keith at 4:23 PM | 0 Comments Monday, October 23, 2006Cannibal Holocaust: The Savage Cinema of Ruggero Deodato
1999, Fab Press. By Harvey Fenton, Julian Grainger, and Gian Luca Castoldi.
Cannibal films are disturbing enough on their own, but plop them down in the middle of a filmography that also includes sword and sorcery barbarian films, violent Italian cop flicks, bizarre and brutal erotic thrillers, and even made for television action dramas, and you really gotta start to wonder. The Savage Cinema of Ruggero Deodato is a well-researched examination of the whole strange filmography of one of the most controversial directors to ever make waves in a scene very used to controversy. Through essays, incredibly in-depth reviews, anecdotes, and interviews, we get a peak not just at the films, but also at the thought behind them, the intentions, and reactions to the results (like Deodato getting arrested because officials were convinced Cannibal Holocaust was an actual snuff film). From his quirky sword and sorcery film The Barbarians to his wild crime films like Live Like a Cop, Die Like a Man, and of course including all his horror and exploitation classics, this book highlights the fact that Deodato, like many of his Italian exploitation contemporaries, was a far more versatile and driven film maker than people might think. The writing is informative without being just another dry list of facts. It's obvious that the authors respect Deodato's work while, at the same time, they remain removed enough to call a spade a spade when Deodato cranks out a real stinker. I'm happy to see well-written books by people who are talented writers and researchers as well as huge fans of the films. Nothing irks me more than people who have no interest one whatsoever in a genre yet still write a book about it because they see an opportunity to make a quick buck. Likewise, it's good to see these marginal films getting some real critical attention and consideration above the level of fanzine writing. Of course, this being something of a fanzine site (we have critical skills, just as we have proofreading skills -- we just chose not to use either, mostly because we're lazy), it should be obvious that we love that sort of writing. It's just good when someone takes it to the next level as well. While you can't say the book is "beautifully" illustrated (except for the shots of Annie Bell), it does contain scores of wonderfully gory full-color photos, stills, and rare poster art. Obviously some -- well, most -- of the photos are of a rather graphic nature. You even get a still of the infamous "piranha bait leg scene" that was set up and possibly even shot for Cannibal Holocaust but never actually used, though rumors persist about a Brazilian print or something that has the scene in it. Along with the "alternate ending to Dawn of the Dead which was planned out but never used, the piranha baiting scene is the exploitation equivalent of "there was an alternate ending to King Kong Versus Godzilla where Godzilla is the clear winner." Savage Cinema of Ruggero Deodato is essential reading for any Deodato fan, as well as for any fan of cult and exploitation cinema in general. I'm excited to see so many well-written and put-together books on films like these. In recent years, we've seen this, Zombies, the gorgeous Beyond Terror about Lucio Fulci, and most recently Art of Darkness about the films of Dario Argento. The fact that many of these films are finding a new lease on life thanks to DVD has no doubt helped generate newfound interest in actually thinking about and celebrating them. And like most of the other books, Savage Cinema manages to be not just informative, but also a good, entertaining read. Labels: Film Studies posted by Keith at 4:59 PM | 0 Comments Thursday, August 03, 2006Elvis Cinema and Popular Culture
By Douglas Brode. 2006, McFarland Press.
If you pick through our film review archive, you'll find we've written up several Elvis Presley movies (Blue Hawaii, Girls Girls Girls, Paradise Hawaiian Style, Viva Las Vegas, and Easy Come Easy Go). I've watched just about every movie Presley made, except for Change of Habit and Frankie and Johnny. And really, I've enjoyed pretty much all of them. Elvis movies have a phenomenally bad critical and social rap. In fact, liking an Elvis movie is considered by many to be more shameful than freely admitting to liking porn. Even when you do enjoy an Elvis film, said enjoyment is often served up with the hoary old, "so bad it's good" justification. Heck, even I've been guilty of really not thinking too much about anything that happens in an Elvis movie. Douglas Brode, on the other hand, came up with a different approach to the films of The King. What, he surmises, if these movies aren't completely superficial fluff? What if, when you pay close attention and really analyze both the career of Elvis and the world around him, you suddenly discovered that there's a wealth of material to be analyzed in these films? That in even the most innocuous of Elvis adventures, you could find underlying currents that spoke of the social evolution of America and the career cycle of one of her most important pop culture icons? At first look, a three-hundred page book, with no photos, exploring the social and historical relevance of Elvis movies might seem daunting. But Brode handles the material in a way that is both intelligent and entertaining -- never falling back on slapstick barbs but also never lapsing into dry academic analysis. His writing style is crisp and packed with information, but like I said, he keeps it interesting and never relies on a dry recitation of facts and theories. He proves his point expertly, and it'll certainly change the way you (or at least I) think and write about Elvis films. He isn't attempting to convince anyone that these films are unheralded classics (and in fact freely admits that many of them are rather bad), but instead puts forth and brilliantly argues the notion that there is plenty to be understood and learned. As his book advances chronologically through the films, it becomes an increasingly eye-opening look at how the films reflect the man, even when the man seemed to have no interest in the films. Brode examines the myth of Elvis the rebel, the hip-swingin' bad boy that parents and Ed Sullivan feared, and compares it to the reality of Elvis the shy Southern boy, who loved his mother, went to church, and joined the Army. And he looks at how these two personalities clashed in the movies and how these movies as a whole show Elvis' arc from counter-culture rebel to reactionary symbol of the establishment -- simply because the world moved around him while Elvis stayed more or less the same. Brode also delves into the depiction of sex and relationships in the movie and compares that to Elvis' own rather peculiar tendencies in his relationships. McFarland has a long history of publishing books by authors who have looked at a niche cinema market and seen something greater and more important in it than most audiences. Elvis Cinema and Popular Culture continues this tradition, and it is a fascinating read both for Elvis fans as well as anyone who is interested in seeing how much social and historical relevance can be found in places that have been dismissed as meaningless and trivial. In that sense, this is far more than a simple survey of Elvis films that would be of interest only to Elvis film fans. It's a great read for anyone who wants a deeper understanding of analyzing movies and is a great addition to any film studies reference library. Labels: Film Studies posted by Keith at 12:23 PM | 3 Comments Tuesday, July 05, 2005Mental Hygiene
By Ken Smith. 1999, Blast Books.
Readers of a certain age will remember the excitement of walking into a classroom and seeing the film projector set up. Whether viewing a film on the horrors of drugs and alcohol, the spreading of cold germs, or how to apply for a job, students were promised at least 10 minutes of diversion from the boring classroom. Teachers liked the films as well because they provided them with 10 minutes to hang out in the faculty lounge. Today, most of these short films are used as a source of campy laughs, or in commercials as a contrast to today's "extreme" roller blading kids. In Mental Hygiene, Ken Smith takes a different view of these often-ignored films. Smith, the author of Roadside America, takes a rather straightforward approach to these films that were designed to influence the behavior of a generation of children. Thousands of these films were produced from 1945 to 1970. Rigidly defining right and wrong, there is no room for shades of gray in these films. Millions of children viewed these films, as they circulated throughout schools for years. Although most of these films were out of circulation by the mid-seventies, I remember watching a movie in high school around 1987 where a crew-cut wearing "social scientist" explained how "thousands of schoolchildren spend each weekend getting stoned on beer." Mostly made in the Midwest, these films capitalized on postwar fears about teens and their new freedoms. World War II training films showed that film could be an effective teaching tool, and progressive educators embraced the idea. Many of the films had open endings ("What would your class do?") and were designed for classroom discussion afterwards. One thing that tends to be forgotten today is that these were idealized pictures of America. The kids were square, but that was the point. These were views of a society as it should be, not necessarily the way it was, in the hopes that children would imitate the images on screen and not turn into goofball-selling punks. As evidenced by their behavior in the sixties and early seventies, the lessons didn't always take. These films strongly emphasized fitting in and conforming to society's norms as a solution to your problems. While this may seem alien to contemporary viewers, the people behind these films were mostly servicemen who had experienced the virtues of fitting in and "being a team player" on the battlefield. Smith explores these films by genre and producers, uncovering the fascinating stories behind the films' birth. The producers of these films were a varied lot, mainly ex-servicemen and businessmen who had been bitten by the movie bug. Classroom films were made quickly and cheaply and guaranteed an audience. Coronet, the gold standard of mental hygiene films, churned out a film every 4.2 days. David Smart, the founder of Coronet was the super-suave publisher of GQ and Esquire. How suave was he? Well, Smart was the owner of an early Matt Helm like motorized round bed, in the thirties. Coronet films were more like "real" movies than other films, and are the ones that showed up most frequently on Mystery Science Theater and compilation tapes. While most of the films demonstrated how fitting in and following the rules would make you happier and healthier, a number of them took the "let's scare the crap out of the little punks" approach. In these films, children who drove recklessly, took drugs or horsed around during shop class would be blinded or jailed if they were lucky, with an unsympathetic narrator intoning something like, "Well, how do you feel now?" Danger was around every corner, and even your own home wasn't safe, what with all those exposed wires and fire hazards. Sid King was a master of this genre, tackling subjects such as drug abuse and child molesters. King's harsh looking films usually had a stern narrator who knew all about teenaged "wise guys." This genre also included the driving films featuring the grisly aftermaths of traffic accidents. After just reading the descriptions, I'm surprised these didn't result in a nation of children who would rather take the bus or walk. Smith rounds out the book with capsule synopsis of about 300 films. Since a large portion of these films are damaged, destroyed or unavailable to the general public, this might be the only place to learn about a young Frank Sinatra teaching racial and religious tolerance while calling kids "first class fatheads." Labels: Film Studies posted by Keith at 3:51 PM | 0 Comments Sunday, July 03, 2005Mondo Macabro
By Peter Tombs. 1998, St. Martins Press.
That right there tells you you're getting something mighty special, and in the case of this book, you can judge it by the cover. Peter Tombs, co-author of the wonderful Eurosleaze film book Immoral Tales, is back in full effect with this book exploring the weirdest films from around the world. Tombs' book promises us the weird, wonderful, and obscure, and delivers in frustrating quantity (frustrating because, if you are like me, each page turns you on to a difficult-to-find treasure that will obsess you for months). Some books on cult films promise you the zany stuff and then deliver yet another chapter on The Rocky Horror Picture Show or Friday the 13th. Tombs thumbs his nose at run-of-the-mill nonsense and goes for the real mind-blowing stuff. Crazy films from Hong Kong, Japan, Indonesia, The Philippines, Bali, India, Mexico, and Turkey (among others) are covered, and Tombs turns up some of the most priceless gems I've ever seen. Bruce Lee Versus Gay Power?!?! From Brazil? Do you know how obsessed I am with finding this film now? A Turkish rip-off of Star Trek, complete with a Spock look-alike? Hindi disco/monster films? I was pretty familiar with the Hong Kong and Japan material, so that was of less interest to me, but the rest of the book is phenomenal, an essential resource for anyone tired of the same old crap in your video store's "Cult Classics" section. I've seen Pink Flamingos already. Bring on the Turkish sex and horror films! Tombs writes with frightening knowledge about the most bizarre stuff from the four corners of the globe, and his writing is in a style that is both fun and informative. It's rare that a film book is actually entertainingly written, but Tombs words are almost as much fun as the films about which they were scrawled. Dozens and dozens of pictures, some in glossy full color, adorn the pages. That way, you can ogle those sexy Turkish women (and they are sexy), Mexican masked wrestlers, Japanese bondage queens, and heroic Indian lads battling zombies in the disco. I will issue a serious warning: you cannot buy this book and not become obsessed with its contents. You cannot leaf through this book and not find yourself suddenly launched on a quest to find a copy of Cheekh. You will be crushed and frustrated as you desperately strive to track down copies of these films. You will loose sleep wondering how you will ever get a hold of Cleopatra Wong. Even if you are a seasoned veteran of the obscure film trenches, this book is going to turn you onto a whole new world. I highly recommend it to anyone who wants to see just how crazy the world is. Labels: Film Studies posted by Keith at 3:58 PM | 0 Comments Friday, July 01, 2005Beyond Terror: The Films of Lucio Fulci
By Stephen Thrower. 1999, Fab Press.
Beyond Terror is a massive coffee table book, or a really big shelf book if you don't have a coffee table (it's too big to stack on the back of the toilet, unfortunately), covering the life and works of one of the most influential, and certainly one of the most controversial directors in Italian film history: Lucio Fulci. Known to fans as the "godfather of gore," Fulci pushed the envelope of what was and was not acceptable gore and violence in a film. Movies like Zombie, The Beyond, and City of the Living Dead reveled in the grotesque, filling themselves with gut munching, eye gouging, intestine barfing, and more bloody mayhem than most people care to see in a lifetime of films. But for people who are really fans of Fulci, something else lies beneath, and that something else is captured beautifully in this book. Fulci was a rebel, a system bucker who would intentionally go out and do the things he was told he could not do. His position as an iconoclastic renegade cost him much money and more than a few business associates and friends, but the passion is undeniable. It's great to finally read a book that deals with Fulci's work on more than a "gee whiz" gorehound level. Beyond Terror provides the reader with a complete filmography, technical notes, and reviews of each film. It also delves deeper into many movies, exploring the surrealism, the visions and goals of what Fulci wanted to capture on and do with film. Sometimes he succeeded, other times he didn't. We tend to knock Fulci around a tad, but it's all in good fun, and despite whatever critical comments I may make about his films, the fact remains that, by and large, I love his movies. Attention is paid to Fulci's non-horror films as well, giving a much better view of the man and his career than has previously ever been available. For people like me who are fans of some of his non-horror films, it was a real treat to get more information on them. Stephen Thrower's book is well-written, consistently informative, and unlike many looks at cult films and cult film figures, relatively free of glaring factual errors and omissions. You can tell the man is a huge fan of Fulci films, but you can also tell that he's well-read, did his research, and intended his book to work on a professional level. It does. As if all the info wasn't enough to keep me and people like me drooling for weeks on end, the book is illustrated with dozens upon dozens of photographs in color and black and white. In a sentence, Beyond Terror is essential reading for Fulci fans, and should also be of great interest to fans of horror and fantasy films in general. And if you are simply looking for a good book about a true pioneering spirit in film, you might not mind it either. I thought the entire thing was superb. My only complaint is the binding: a book that is read and reread and referenced this much tends to fall apart if the binding isn't up to the task. Still, a minor flaw in what is a grand achievement. Labels: Film Studies posted by Keith at 3:30 PM | 0 Comments Wednesday, June 01, 2005Avengers Companion
By Alain Carraze, Jean-Luc Putheaud, Alex J. Geairns. 1998, Bay Books.
The problem that soon emerges, however, is that this is a book. Not a photo book, but a book with lots of photos accompanied by lots of words. Unfortunately, most of the words are incredibly uninteresting. Given that The Avengers was one of the most bizarre, quirky, and delightfully twisted television series ever to make it onto the small screen, you'd think that any text purporting to be a definitive companion to such an outlandish series would at least try to have as much fun with the source material as the source material had with itself. After all, The Avengers was about "solving crime with a wink." It was intentionally weird and often tongue-in-cheek. It relished taking everything over-the-top, and it's not served well by dreadfully dull commentary, which is about all this book has to offer. We start off promisingly, with a chapter of interviews. Among other, Diana Rigg, Linda Thornson, and Patrick MacNee are interviewed, but the interviews turn out to ask only the most superficial questions, things just about everyone who followed the show already knew. Rehashing material for the new fans is a must, but collecting together some new insight is for old fans is also helpful. Unfortunately, these interviews are puff pieces that shed very little light on the making of the series and the people behind it. The bulk of the book is comprised of an episode guide which offers very little you couldn't get for free online. Most of the episode synopses sound like they were cribbed from the back of a video box or promo teaser. Some of them are only a couple lines long, giving the impression that the authors hadn't even seen much of the series but wanted to cash in quick on the resurgence of interest in the show. Again, everything is totally devoid of wit and insight, two things that The Avengers had in spades and should have been reflected in books about the series. Next up we get some incredibly meaty looking examinations of particular episodes, many of which seem chosen at random (why would you not to an in-depth look at the episodes in which Honor Blackman and Diana Rigg departed the series?). However, quantity and quality remain worlds apart, and for all their verbosity, these selections are nothing more than painfully drawn-out recounts of the plot. And I mean painfully drawn-out, as in one step away from doing things like "Emma Peel takes eleven steps forward, looks to her right, then continues on for seven more steps. During this period, she breathes approximately fifteen times." Man, if you are going to dwell on every teeny tiny detail, you should mix in some comedy or interpretation, some sort of explanation for why what's going on is important, why this episode was chosen to be scrutinized. Ken Begg of Jabootu's Bad Movie Dimension loves to examine bad films in great detail. That involves recounting a lot of the plot, but he also remembers to slip in jokes, critical comments, and interesting insights. This book contains none of those, and could use a good lesson from Ken on how to write incredibly long material and still remain highly entertaining from beginning to end. Instead we get the literary equivalent of sitting on the toilet counting the number of little hexagonal tiles on the floor. Sure, it's difficult to do. Sure it's pain-staking and takes a lot of effort, but what the hell is the point? It doesn't make you trip to the john any more enjoyable. These long-winded, completely dry synopses add nothing to watching the episodes, offer nothing other than a translation onto paper of what you would be seeing if you were watching the show instead of wasting time reading the synopsis. The final chapters fair better because they're really nothing more than collections of photos, which is probably what this book should have been in the first place. One thing that did strike me is how similar the entire structure of the book is to the superior Complete Avengers, which also had short chapters dedicated to photos of the various fancy cars and clothes of the series. Coincidence, I suppose, but still not above suspicion. This book should have been a slickly laid out collection of photos and captions with minimal writing. Collecting rare and interesting photos is something the creators of this book do well, but filling up the pages with words is something they should reconsider. Had this been like one of those fancy-pants art books where some lazy hack goes through and gets pictures of lots of stuff other people have done, then publishes it as an exploration of cutting edge digital design, they would have been set, and I would not have been at all disappointed. Unfortunately for us all, they tried to write, and that's one thing they show very little flair for. Granted, nothing is awful, but it is dry, uninspired, and totally devoid of any sense of insight into or adoration for the show. Unlike the series it covers, this book attempts to do nothing different, takes no risk, and has to literary style. If you can manage to read the entire thing, which is not unlike eating five loaves of dry white toast without anything to drink, you won't learn much about the wonderful show other than the fact that the shoots were difficult, Diana Rigg was cool, and various things happened in each episode. Analysis? Not here. Exploration of themes and symbolism? Forget it. For a show that could have volumes written about it, what we get here is pretty tame, meager, uninteresting stuff. All those negative comments made, I still recommend the book solely for the pages and pages of wonderful photos. They alone make this a valuable collector's item worth picking up next time you have some spare cash lying about the place. It's too bad the prose fails utterly to live up to the slickness of the photos, the layout, and the show. Better luck next time. Labels: Film Studies posted by Keith at 3:21 PM | 1 Comments |
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