Noir is like pornography: difficult to define, but you know it when you see it. And you’ll see it in a light you’ve never seen before after reading THE MALTESE TOUCH OF EVIL, by scholars Shannon Scott Clute and Richard L. Edwards.
This is no ordinary text on the genre. From 31 movies cast in noir’s shadows, Clute and Edwards chop the stories up into 102 iconic pieces — “noiremes,” they call them — that the authors then arrange more or less chronologically by time placement in the film. The result is like the ultimate noir work — one that includes every trope, every trick, every turn of phrase.
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Being raised in Oklahoma City instead of New York City, I’d never heard of the FRIGHT NIGHT film showcase that brightened the tube for roughly two decades worth of Saturday nights on WOR-TV. Turns out, such knowledge isn’t needed to enjoy James Arena’s book FRIGHT NIGHT ON CHANNEL 9. As long as you fondly recall battling bedtime to catch a scary movie in the days, you’re going to fine Arena’s ecstatic vibe infectious.
In this paperback, he offers a history and appreciation of said show before digging into the real nitty gritty of an episode guide. Taking up the majority of the 216 pages, this allows Arena to offer capsule reviews on the horror, mystery and sci-fi flicks he consumed.
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I’d like to report that OF MUSCLES AND MEN: ESSAYS ON THE SWORD & SANDAL FILM is as much fun as it sounds. Instead, like a good chunk of the so-named peplum genre, it can’t live up to the hyperbolic art — in this case, not a poster, but a book cover.
Published by McFarland and edited by Michael G. Cornelius, the compilation of a dozen pieces sure seems like a ball. Just glance at some of the titles listed in the table of contents: “Homer’s Lies, Brad Pitt’s Thighs” and “By Jupiter’s Cock!” With rare exception — such as David Simmons’ aforementioned “Cock!” piece, which focuses on the campy cable hit SPARTACUS: BLOOD AND SAND — the essays take both their subjects and themselves too seriously.
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One would think with the title BRUCE LEE, WOODSTOCK AND ME that film producer Fred Weintraub’s memoir would be right up the movie lover’s alley. And part of it is, but overall, it deals more with his less-public days as music manager than any other topic. Therefore, audiophiles with a love for pop of the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s will get more from it than fans of chopsocky.
I fall in the group of the latter, and agree with Weintraub that his all-or-nothing crap shoot of mounting an international production intended to make Bruce Lee a household name on this side of the globe, ENTER THE DRAGON, is the best martial-arts movie ever made.
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Damn you, Danny Shipka! Damn you and your new book, PERVERSE TITILLATION!
I mean, the book is a fantastic read, but it really added to my already too-long list of movies that I need to see and/or buy. For a book on films, threatening to take up much of future free time is the highest compliment I can give. And I’m going to be killing a lot of hours consuming these titles. So, again, damn you!
This one delivers on its subtitle as a journey through the revolutionary “Eurocult” genre of (in descending order of influence) Italy, Spain and France, with particular attention paid to its respective directorial titans, such as Mario Bava, Jess Franco and Jean Rollin. Italy’s reign comprises the first half.
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