Zine Update

The first issue of Nightmare Town, the journal, is about to see the light of day. Issue #0, the preview issue, is thirty-six pages of film, book, and music essays and reviews. Included are lengthy pieces on:

The Seven Stigmata of Guillermo Del Toro by W. S. Gregory

Love, Death, and Coming of Age: Hellboy by Lisa Moore

Michael McDowell's Dark Currents: The Blackwater Series by Lynda E. Rucker

The Kramers v.s. The Brood by Lisa Moore

Also included is an excellent examination of the classic Japanese horror film, Kwaidan, by Scott McMillan, a look at the Lone Wolf & Cub graphic novels by David J. Schwartz, and Dean Sharp's Sonic Doom! Plus a bunch of short reviews and a little something called Under the Influence, wherein two inebriated movie watchers try to make sense out of the travesty that is The Butterfly Effect.

Interested in a copy? You can place an order now by emailing me at:

nightmaretown@gmail.com

The first issue is free, though subsequent issues (the next one won't be out until late-spring) will cost a small amount.

Film Reviews Update

A bunch of my most recent reviews have gone live over at the excellent Images web site. A few Japanese yakuza and exploitation films, Yasujiro Ozu's splendid masterpiece Floating Weeds, and the low-budget, black & white adaptation of the cult classic oddity that is Wisconsin Death Trip. Check 'em all out:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/Wisconsin/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/sada/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/floatingweeds/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/hasebe/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/battleswithout/

Yakuza Dreams

For those of you who have ever seen the brilliant Branded to Kill or Tokyo Drifter, you know what a remarkable and anarchistic director Seijun Suzuki is. Three more of his films have recently been released on these shores, and although they aren't as over-the-top and stylistically shocking as the above mentioned films (Branded to Kill got Suzuki fired for life from Nikkatsu studios), they are splendidly hallucinatory and entertaining.

Check out my review at the Images web site:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/suzuki/

Update

Well, I'm back from Japan and just starting to get my equilibrium back. That means plenty of updates, reviews, and a whole lot more. So please check back! I'll have something new here by the end of the week. And there's also the hard copy of Nightmare Town which should be ready to hit the dark city streets within the next couple of weeks or so. Be ready, it's gonna be cool.

Update Coming Soon!

A lot has been going on around these parts, namely making Nightmare Town a hardcopy zine. Unlike this blog, which I realize is not updated as much as it should be, the print version of Nightmare Town will be full of film and book reviews and essays focusing on the horror, crime, and Western genres. Also, anything that is just dark, weird, and simply can't be comfortably squeezed into a genre box will also be covered. There will also be a music column and much, much more. Oh, and the best part is, it's not going to be all written by moi! That's right, there are a number of excellent writers contributing to this peculiar, misshapen endeavor known as Nightmare Town.

If you're interested in grabbing the first issue, keep checking back for info on how to get it. You can also email me at the above address. Hopefully, the first issue will be out within the next few weeks before I leave for Japan.

Cheers!

Images Update

Fans of Japanese cinema might be interested to know that I've got two new reviews live at the Images site. Check them out at:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/cure/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/fukasaku/

More reviews should be going up within the next couple of weeks, so check back if you're so inclined.

Bloody Birthday Greetings

It's novelist Cormac McCarthy's birthday today. McCarthy is the author of numerous books, including All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, and Cities of the Plains. But my favorite is Blood Meridian, McCarthy's black magic Western incantation to the beast in man. Here's a quote from Mr. McCarthy:

"There's no such thing as life without bloodshed. I think the notion that the species can be improved in some way, that everyone could live in harmony, is a really dangerous idea. Those who are afflicted with this notion are the first ones to give up their souls, their freedom. Your desire that it be that way will enslave you and make your life vacuous."

Amen.

Mild Devotion to Majesty

The new Polyphonic Spree CD, Together We're Heavy, came out today in North America and it is indeed a fucking masterpiece. Go now, brothers and sisters! Go now and partake of this wonderful, beautiful, cosmic soundscape before it's too late. The End is nigh and you must enjoy these sounds while you still can! It's dark here in Nightmare Town, so you gotta receive salvation where and when you can!

Ramsey Campbell

It's sad to think that there are some people in the world who have never had the, eh . . . pleasure . . . of reading a Ramsey Campbell novel or short story. In all seriousness, he is probably the greatest living practitioner of the modern horror tale. Campbell is prolific, so you should choose wisely when first approaching him. For novels, start with either Nazareth Hill (1997), The Darkest Part of the Woods (2002), The Doll Who Ate His Mother (1975), or the truly harrowing The Face that Must Die (Scream/Press edition, 1983). For short stories, a good place to start is with the splendid Arkham House anthology, Alone with the Horrors (1993).

Here's a link to a pretty good interview with Mr. Campbell on the Suicide Girls web site:

http://suicidegirls.com/words/Ramsey+Campbell/

And while you're there, don't forget to check out Quinne, Jenna, Seraphim, Danielle, Adora, or any of the other lovely girls who make life a little more interesting!

R.I.P. Part Two

Marlon Brando died today at the age of 80. If you knew Brando only for his intermittent film work during the 1980s and 1990s, then you haven't had the pleasure of witnessing a truly great actor at work. His body of work will live on, no doubt continuing to fascinate, frustrate, and ultimately serve as a template for what acting can achieve.

Check out the following links for more info:

http://film.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,12589,1252926,00.html

http://film.guardian.co.uk/news/story/0,12589,1252894,00.html

http://film.guardian.co.uk/gall/0,8544,1252898,00.html

R.I.P.

One of the last of the original pulp writers, Hugh B. Cave, died on June 27th at the age of 93. Although he wrote in various genres, he's arguably best known for his horror short stories "Stragella", "The Brotherhood of Blood", and "Murgunstruum". In 1991, Cave received the Life-Achievement Bram Stoker Award.

Check out the link for more info:

http://news.independent.co.uk/people/obituaries/story.jsp?story=536546

Eyes Wide Open

I'm still sort of speechless after seeing Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. Although I enjoyed Roger & Me (1989) for the most part, I wasn't exactly a fan. In fact, the guy downright bugged me and my skin crawled everytime some bug-eyed, malnourished peacenik or well-fed, affluent liberal from the West Hills warbled on and on about how amazing he was as if he were Christ, blah blah blah. Nevertheless, I couldn't wait to see Fahrenheit 9/11 ever since I heard he was making it. Imagine the possibilities, I wondered. This could really help turn the tide against King George and perhaps America at large would finally realize that it had been asleep at the wheel for four years now. Even though I didn't exactly like Moore's style of snarky filmmaking and his unfortunate habit of stretching facts to fit his version of the truth, I was hopeful that he would use his power wisely and not fuck up this chance to "expose" the sordid underbelly of King George's realm.

I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I think the film was even better than I had hoped for. I'm still grappling for words to express how brilliant and powerful a lot of it was. Sure, Moore slips up a few times, but the film is an earnest and occasionally brutal rescue attempt to help wipe the sleep from Lady Liberty's punchdrunk eyes. If you haven't already gone to see it, go! Think about it, discuss it, and make up your own mind. And vote, damn it. Vote!

For more info, go to: http://www.michaelmoore.com/

The Good War

I was just thumbing through the introduction to Charles Willeford's novel, The High Priest of California, and I was taken with a quote by the late Mr. Willeford regarding his tenure in the military during WWII. For those of you who don't know who Willeford was, he was one of the best practioners of the hardboiled genre during its heyday. He's probably best known for his Hoke Moseley series, including Miami Blues, which was made into a film in 1990 starring Fred Ward as Moseley, and co-starring Alec Baldwin and Jennifer Jason Leigh. Pretty good stuff, although the book is far better. Anyway . . . here's the quote:

"A good half of the men you deal with in the Army are psychopaths. There's a pretty hefty overlap between the military population and the prison population, so I knew plenty of guys like Junior in Miami Blues and Troy in Sideswipe. Like, some of these other Tankers I knew used to swap bottles of liqor with infantrymen in exchange for prisoners, and then just shoot 'em for fun. I used to say, 'Goddamn it, will you stop shooting those prisoners!' And they would just shrug and say, 'Hell, they'd shoot us if they caught us!' Which was true, they used to shoot any Tankers they captured. So that of behavior became normal to them, and I used to wonder, 'What's gonna happen to these guys when they go back into civilian life? How are they gonna act?' You can't just turn it off and go to work in a 7-11. If you're good with weapons or something in the Army, you're naturally gonna do something with weapons when you get out, whether it's being a cop or a criminal. These guys learned to do all sorts of things in the Army that just weren't considered normal by civilian standards."

So here's to the Good War. May there be many more!

UPDATE!

Well, it's coming. I should have a bunch of new entries next week. Stay tuned. Really . . . I'm serious. What?

Ann Coulter's Favorite Comedian

There's not a lot of laughter around these parts. Nightmare Town is hardcore, man. It's tough, mean, and the only laughter you'll hear will be at your expense. But we sure do love Andy Kaufman. We miss him dearly. And the word on the street is . . . he's alive. Really. Don't believe me? Check out this link and read all about it:

http://andykaufmanreturns.blogspot.com/

Sure, it's probably a hoax. But what if . . . .

The Spaghetti Files: A Man Called Sledge (1970)

James Garner, playing against type, is Sledge. And he’s a very bad man. A ruthless bandit and killer, Sledge is one guy you do not want to get involved with. But Sledge is getting old and he’s looking to cash out, so to speak. Just one more score should do the trick. He’s got an experienced bunch of gunslingers with him -- including Claude Akins and Dennis Weaver -- and the big payoff awaiting them is definitely worth the risk. Only problem is . . . the payoff (a cache of gold that could keep a small country afloat) is inside a federal prison.

Directed by American actor Vic Morrow (The Blackboard Jungle, Twilight Zone: The Movie), the film was shot in Spain with an Italian crew and subsequently feels a lot more like a Spaghetti Western than its American Western peers. Morally complex, violent, and with an attention for the gritty anti-poetic details of life in the wild, wild west that its American counterparts of the time eschewed (Sam Peckinpah excluded), A Man Called Sledge is a sadly underrated good time.

A Man Called Sledge is available on DVD from Columbia-TriStar Home Entertainment.

Images Update

I've got a couple new reviews up over at the Images web site. They were both written awhile back but just went live today. The first one is for the Spanish arthouse/horror film, In a Glass Cage (1986), and the second one is on Peter Weir's 1975 apocalyptic SF film, The Cars That Ate Paris. Check 'em out:

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/inglasscage/

http://www.imagesjournal.com/2004/reviews/carsateparis/

Saints and Ghouls: Dance with the Devil a.k.a. Perdita Durango (1997)

Barry Gifford writes like a possessed priest. He writes about the hard way and the nightside roads most of us are afraid to travel down. He writes with an insight into human nature that is disturbing yet always entrancing. And like Elmore Leonard, the modern crime fiction master of the American Burn Out, Gifford does it all in a stripped down humorous style. Dance with the Devil, directed by Alex de la Iglesia (the man responsible for the satanically enjoyable Day of the Beast from 1995) and adapted from Gifford’s novel Perdita Durango, is sort of a follow-up to David Lynch’s Wild at Heart (1990) but with more teeth. Starring Rosie Perez as Perdita (she’s really good, honest!) and the great Javier Bardem as Romeo Dolorosa, the drug dealing Santeria priest who wins Perdita’s black little heart all for himself, Iglesia’s amoral killers-on-the-run film is flawed, but it’s also staggeringly good more so than not. Human sacrifices, kidnapped teens, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, James Gandolfini as a boneheaded yet dedicated federal agent bent on capturing Perdita, dead fetuses, and director Alex Cox (one of my faves) as a MIB who is very, very interested in them dead babies, are just some of the treats in store for those who like their comedy pitch black. This film’s tongue is so sharp it slices clear through its own cancerous cheek with a dexterity that would have made Ed Gein crack a smile. Think Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers lacked attitude and was a little corny? Well, give this one a shot.

Although it states on the DVD keep-case that the film is “unrated,” unfortunately that’s not the case. The original Spanish version of the film runs 126 minutes and contains a few more scenes of violence and mayhem. But most importantly, the American “unrated” cut of the film is missing scenes from the 1954 Robert Aldrich western, Vera Cruz, which starred Burt Lancaster and Gary Cooper. Cruz is a favorite film of Dolorosa’s and the ending of Dance with the Devil (at least in the Spanish version) contains a scene wherein the faces of Lancaster and Cooper morph over Dolorosa’s and another character’s during the climatic shoot-out. Presumably the scene was altered because of copyright issues. Regardless, the “unrated” American version is still worth checking out.

Dance with the Devil is available on DVD from A-Pix Entertainment.

Shameless

Lynda E. Rucker and I have collaborated on a review for Video Watchdog magazine, issue #107. It should be in stores now. The piece is a review of the dearly lamented science-fiction television show, Firefly, which came out on DVD late last year after being unceremoniously cancelled by those bastards at FOX. I'm pretty damn proud of it, not only because I think the review turned out well, but because it was the first time Lynda and I have written something together. Be warned . . . it will not be the last!

Surging Through the Corridors of the Crazed Mind: Dementia (1953) Daughter of Horror (1957)

For years this obscure nightmarish gem was known to psychotronic fans as Daughter of Horror. Never “officially” released onto video, the film was nevertheless easy to track down from numerous gray market outlets, and for those lucky enough to have wallowed in its beat-inspired existentialist noir/horror rhythms, the experience was unforgettable. Directed by John J. Parker, the film is a black and white psychosexual horrorshow dealing with a young woman, known only as “the Gamin” (Adrianne Barrett), as she ventures through the dark city streets encountering various unsavory characters while she experiences a torrent of hallucinatory visions involving murder and Ed McMahon! Since Daughter of Horror was filmed with no dialogue and virtually no sound except for George Antheil’s musical score, the future-Tonight Show sidekick, who was then a radio announcer, supplied the film with an over-the-top “evil” narration. With ingredients like that you’d think the film was destined for greatness! Well, in a perfect world it would have been.

Luckily, Kino on Video (those crusaders for all that is black and white and silent) has lovingly resurrected this little masterpiece for the digital age. And not only that, they’ve also released the original cut of the film, Dementia, which contains scenes cut from the later release and doesn’t contain the campy Ed McMahon narration. The original cut takes a while to get used to, only because McMahon’s loopy psychobabble was so damn memorable, but it’s without a doubt the preferred version. The print is also amazing to behold and really shows-off William Thompson’s glorious cinematography.

Dementia/Daughter of Horror is available on DVD from Kino on Video.

Moonage Daydream: The Virgin Suicides (2000)

Five sisters -- the entrancing Lisbon daughters -- commit suicide and forever haunt the imaginations of the young men fortunate enough to have encountered them during their all too brief lives. Much like her brother Roman’s first feature, CQ (2001), Sofia Coppola’s directorial debut was self-assured and gave one much hope as to what she would accomplish in the future. Of course, her second film, Lost in Translation (2003), not only lived up to the promise, it secured her place as one of the most intelligent and gifted American directors working today. Based on Jeffrey Eugenide’s novel of the same name, The Virgin Suicides -- the film -- could have easily deteriorated into maudlin morbidity or juvenile preciousness if a lesser talent had directed it. But as it turned out, Coppola’s skillful adaptation is a dreamy, melancholic fable that brilliantly balances the story’s enigmatic power with dollops of black humor and a gentle poignancy that is hard to shake off. Set in Michigan during the mid-1970s, the film’s sense of period detail and use of rock songs from the era are first rate. The original soundtrack by French electronic-pop duo Air is equally superb, and adds a fabulous drifting flow to this cinematic loss of innocence. The ensemble cast is excellent as well.

The Virgin Suicides is available on DVD from Paramount Home Video.

UPDATE COMING SOON!

Honest. And that's a threat.

Into the Zone

This link is to a website by a Ukranian woman who regularly rides her motorcycle through the dead zone surrounding the Chernobyl nuclear power site and has beautifully documented what she has witnessed there. Chilling and unforgettable stuff to say the least. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Check it out:

http://www.angelfire.com/extreme4/kiddofspeed/

What’s Been Playin’ on the CD Player

I’ve been listening to a lot of music lately. Much too much to write about in depth, so I’ll just list a few of the sounds that have kept me up late at night.

Soundtracks:

Barry 7’s Connectors 2 -- A collection of rare Italian lounge music from various Euro films.

Kill Bill Vol. 1 -- One of the best soundtracks from 2003. Too bad there are still tracks from the film that aren’t even on it. It’s still worth picking up, though.

Spaghetti Westerns Volume Two -- A fantastic two disc collection of music from some of the most enjoyable Westerns this side of … eh … well, from Italy.

Classical:

J. S. Bach ~ The Art of the Fugue -- A new release from the highly regarded Emerson String Quartet.

Bartok ~ The 6 String Quartets -- Absolutely splendid two disc set from the Takacs Quartet.

Ute Lemper ~ Berlin Cabaret Songs -- Beautiful, sexy chanteuse Ute Lemper interprets a fabulous selection of music suppressed by The Third Reich. Life's a swindle, so take what you can.

Ute Lemper ~ Illusions -- More sad and beautiful songs from this incredible performer. Dreams turning into dust have never sounded more exquisite.

Jazz:

John Coltrane ~ Blue Train

John Coltrane ~ Giant Steps

Miles Davis ~ In a Silent Way

Miles Davis ~ Miles Ahead

Everything Else:

Drive-By Truckers ~ Southern Rock Opera -- Absolutely the best damn thing I’ve listened to in a while. Trust me on this, if your taste in RAWK tends to head 180 degrees South, then check this incredible band out.

Eminem ~ White Man’s World

High On Fire ~ Surrounded By Thieves -- Monstrous thunder doom/stoner metal from three gents who currently reside within the bowels of the earth. Makes Motorhead sound like little girls.

Lynyrd Skynyrd ~ (pronounced’leh-nerd’skin-nerd) -- You think you know what this band’s about? You have no idea. Listen and learn. Great songwriting, deceptively simple, and oh so swampy. I had to pick this up, along with their second album, after listening to The Drive-By Truckers, who pay homage to Skynyrd on their above mentioned CD.

Lynyrd Skynyrd ~ Second Helping -- Do not pass this band off as just a bunch of longhaired redneck howlers. Proudly Southern, yes. But also soulful, skillful, and passionate. There’s a lot more going on beneath the surface than you think. Even better than their first release.

My Bloody Valentine ~ Loveless -- One of my all-time favorite albums.

Oblivians ~ Sympathy Sessions -- Drunken, bluesy, fucked-up garage rawk all about sex, sex, and more sex. Grab your kitten and burn baby burn.

The Polyphonic Spree ~ The Beginning Stages of … -- Been a while since you’ve attended church? Drop this into the CD player and rejoice! Psychedelic pop/gospel/dream emanations from the Soul above!

Tom Waits ~ Blood Money -- What more do you need to know? It’s Tom Waits! And damn if he doesn’t seem to be conjuring up some dire warnings from below on this one. Wake up! The End is nigh!

Lucinda Williams ~ World Without Tears -- Oh, Lucinda. Give me a call.

Shock and Awe, or how Christianity Can Sometimes Really Hurt You

I’m sort of amused and confused by some of the outrage hurled at Mel Gibson’s new Mad Max film -- Oops! I mean his new Mondo-Biblical horror film about the last twelve hours of Jesus’ life. Don’t worry, I won’t spoil the end for you. But seriously, why are so many people shocked about the film’s violence? Have you no knowledge of the darker undercurrents of the religion? For those of you who are unaware of many a Christian’s sado-masochistic death-trip tendencies or who believe that the religion is bloodless and lacks bite, I urge you to seek out the book Tortures & Torments of the Christian Martyrs from Feral House. Originally published in 1989, the book is long out of print, but a newly revised edition should be out soon. The book is partly a facsimile of an edition published in 1904 with engravings from the 1591 edition. Vividly depicting the excruciating tortures that the passive-aggressive Holy Martyrs so deliciously craved, this is a brutal reminder that not all believers want their salvation tasting like vanilla. The book also contains a fascinating appendix entitled On the Physical Death of Jesus, written by a pathologist from the Mayo Clinic. Whether your interest is morbid fascination, scholarly, or because you need some deviant material for your next holy masturbation session, check it out. Your soul may depend on it.

Lazy and Tired of Working for The Man

Well, the 27th Portland International Film Festival is in full swing and I've managed to see . . . one film. Yep. One film. I mean, don't get me wrong. If I only had to see one film from the entire festival I'm glad that it was Canadian filmmaker Guy Maddin's entry, The Saddest Music in the World (2003). It was brilliant and probably his most accessible film to date, although my favorite is still Careful (1992). But one film? Yep. I gotta manage my time better or something.

It Needs a Longer End Credit Sequence: The Wild Bunch (1969)

I wasn’t trying to make an epic. I was trying to tell a simple story about bad men in changing times. The Wild Bunch is simply what happens when killers go to Mexico. The strange thing is that you feel a great sense of loss when these killers reach the end of the line.
-- Sam Peckinpah

Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch is playing in town at Cinema 21, so Lynda and I shuffled down the street to experience it in the theater. Although we’ve both seen it on the big screen before, it’s a hard film to pass up. Cinema 21 is showing the 144-minute version, which reinstates some flashback sequences and the scene when Villa’s rebels attack Mapache (Emilio Fernandez), and his troops. If you’ve never seen this film, I urge you to check it out, even if you don’t like Westerns. Hell, especially if you don’t like Westerns. From its simple yet dynamic narrative to its revolutionary cinematic syntax (especially for the genre) to the twilight moral universe of killers and victims that Pike (William Holden) and The Bunch exist in and that we, the audience, are forced to submit to –- this is cinema of the highest order. Many have copied and ripped it off (e.g. Brian De Palma, Walter Hill, Paul Schrader, Oliver Stone, Robert Rodriguez, and John Woo, to name only a few culprits), but none of them have ever equaled the monstrous force or moral complexity that comprises Peckinpah’s film. Basically, The Wild Bunch are the only men in a town of boys. Christopher McQaurrie’s 2000 neo-noir, The Way of the Gun, paid splendid homage to The Wild Bunch and is probably the best of the newer crop of films inspired by Peckinpah’s legacy, although it nevertheless lacks the seriousness of Peckinpah’s film. In the end, it’s still a cartoon. A fiendishly good one, but a cartoon nonetheless. But off the top of my head, Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven (1992) is arguably the only other Western that comes close to matching the emotional and moral weight of The Wild Bunch.

It’s 1912 and World War One is looming on the horizon. The American Old West is dying out and with it, the violent men who helped shape, tame, and define it. Pike Bishop, Dutch Engstrom (Ernest Borgnine), Lyle Gorch (Warren Oates), his brother Tector (Ben Johnson), and Angel (Jaime Sanchez) are looking for one more big score after their attempt to rob a bank in the town of Starbuck went horribly wrong when Deke Thornton (Robert Ryan) and his crew of bloodthirsty bounty hunters ambushed them. Barely making it out alive of the melee, Pike and his gang of killers regroup and end up working for a corrupt Mexican general, Mapache, to steal a shipment of U.S. military guns and ammo, while Thornton and his posse of cut-throats are riding hard on their trail.

Even thirty-five years after it was first released, the violence in The Wild Bunch is still ferocious and shocking. Between this and Arthur Penn’s ode to lawlessness and pop-art criminality, Bonnie and Clyde (1967), never had a film so ruthlessly propelled the audience into the topsy-turvy moral universe of its characters; never had a film so thoroughly abandoned its audience and not given them a character to root for and bad guys to hiss at. There are no Good Guys and Bad Guys in this film -- only killers and prey. Remarkably, Peckinpah manages to make us feel and mourn for The Bunch when they go down at the end in a hail of apocalyptic rage and bullets, but it comes attached with plenty of moral dilemmas and a bitter taste in our mouths. Like the character The Judge said in Cormac McCarthy’s masterpiece, Blood Meridian, there are “Bears that dance, bears that don’t.”

When the film ended and the house lights went up, Lynda leaned over to me and whispered, “The film really needs a longer end credit sequence.” I looked into her weary eyes, scanned the theater around me to see others who were still seated looking equally worn out and wounded by what they’d just witnessed, and nodded my head. Bears that dance and bears that don’t. Indeed.

The Candidate's Bookshelf!

This comes from the Book Sense web site. Amusing and very, very interesting:

http://www.booksense.com/candidatebooks/index.jsp

RED RAIN by Michael Crow

Half-Vietnamese, half-black, all cranked up -- Baltimore cop Luther Ewing is a guy who enjoys existing in the underbelly of society. He breathes in corruption and feeds off of violence and mayhem. He likes the wet work. He craves it like a shark needs the sea. For Luther, the troubled waters that most of us will do anything to avoid, have become the source of his being. He drinks greedily from the killing tide and swims freely within the dark waters. And he grows stronger while submerged there. But does he become less human the longer he swims? Luther is a Gulf War vet. He also utilized his killing trade as a mercenary in Bosnia, which is where he met the Russian merc Vassily. Now Luther's old friend is in Baltimore stirring up trouble with the Russian mob. Bosnia was one thing, but Baltimore is Luther's turf. Guess Luther and Vassily are just going to have to start a war. Pray they don't take the whole city down with 'em.

Red Rain is a punch to the face. It makes Mickey Spillane and James Ellroy subtle as haiku. Its feverish prose, vivid characters, over-the-top action sequences that border on the side of parody but always manage to stay engaging, and expertly measured hallucinatory pulp sensation, easily make the novel a tight read. Red Rain, and its sequel The Bite, are written under the pseudonym Michael Crow. The only thing known about the real author's identity is that he is a "prizewinning, critically acclaimed literary novelist whose works have been translated and published in nine languages." A reporter from the Baltimore City Paper believes that it's William Vollman. Mr. Crow has neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. I'll get to The Bite soon and give you the lowdown. Bottoms up!

Mind the Doors: Raw Meat aka Death Line (1972)

Although this British made film is well regarded in its home country -- considered to be one of the finest modern English horror films ever made -- this intelligent and moody shocker has long been relegated to cult obscurity in the U.S. and sadly forgotten outside of those genre aficionados who have valiantly tried to keep the film’s dark flame burning over the years. Written and directed by American Gary Sherman, who would later direct the cult fave Dead & Buried (1981), Raw Meat ostensibly focuses on a series of bizarre disappearances in the London Underground and the subsequent ongoing police investigation led by two of Scotland Yard’s finest, Donald Pleasence and Norman Rossington. Genre-vet Pleasance and Rossington have a great repartee together and their scenes add a much needed levity to an otherwise claustrophobic and unsettling film. But just when you think you know where the film is headed, Sherman introduces us to the film’s true main character and real tragic heart of the picture. Long forgotten underneath the streets of London, buried beneath years of rubble and debris that are his sole links to the outside world’s dreams of “advancement” and “progress,” lurks the inbred cannibalistic creature (played by Hugh Armstrong) causing all of the mayhem above. Mindlessly moaning “Mind the doors!” as he shuffles through the deserted tunnels, the creature, along with a dying pregnant female, is the last descendent of a group of tunnel workers buried alive during construction of a new underground station in the late-19th century. Violent, totally crazed, and barely recognizable as a human being, Armstrong nevertheless manages to make us feel empathy for this great, shambling tragic beast. Not since Boris Karloff breathed life into the role of Frankenstein’s Monster has a horror film displayed such a complex yet terrifying “villain.”

The film is available on DVD from MGM Home Entertainment.

Talk is Cheap: The Great Silence (1968)

This is simply one of the greatest Spaghetti Westerns ever made. It’s also one of the darkest films ever, regardless of genre. But don’t let that scare you off if you’re skittish about such things since it’s also frequently haunting (thanks to composer Ennio Morricone’s unforgettable score), beautiful, lyrical, humorous, crazy, and most important of all, thoroughly captivating. It stars the one-and-only Klaus Kinski, in one of his finest roles, as a droll yet blood-crazed bounty hunter named Loco, and the great French actor Jean-Louis Trintignant as the aptly named, mysterious gunslinger Silence. The wonderful American character actor Frank Wolff (Once Upon a Time in the West among many others) co-stars as the sheriff and Vonetta McGee (Repo Man) brings a tragic humanity to the film as the widow who hires Silence to avenge the death of her husband. Director Sergio Corbucci, although not always the best craftsman, manages to bring an unbridled energy and passion to the film that occasionally rivals the power of the great Sergio Leone’s Westerns from the same period. Corbucci, who also directed the very influential Django (1966) starring Euro-superstar Franco Nero, Navajo Joe (1966) with Burt Reynolds (!), and the excellent Companeros (1970), was more or less a political filmmaker when it came to making Westerns and actually called his take on the genre “Zapata-Spaghetti.” Basically, when it comes down to his Westerns, the good guys are the tough Lefties and the bad guys the fascist Right. Simple and direct though they may be, Corbucci’s films are nevertheless emotional powder kegs and they still manage a fair amount of complexity when it comes around to character. But if you’re looking for ambiguity, look elsewhere. There’s no time for that jazz when the bullets are flying.

The Great Silence is available on DVD from Fantoma. The disc contains the loony alternate “Happy Ending” that Corbucci filmed for the North African and Asian audiences that demanded that their Westerns end on an up note. Even after watching it you’ll still not believe it. Director and longtime Spaghetti Western fan Alex Cox (Repo Man, Sid & Nancy, Straight to Hell) supplies a brief yet interesting video interview wherein he talks about the film’s brooding tone and puts Corbucci’s work within an historical context. He also pens the liner notes. Although I have to disagree with Cox’s assessment that Silence is the greatest Spaghetti Western ever made (that honor still has to go to Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West), it’s right up there. But please, don’t watch this if you’re feeling unstable or depressed. I’ve got enough of a guilty conscience as it is.

A JUDGEMENT IN STONE by Ruth Rendell

British crime novelist Ruth Rendell is probably best known for her long-running police procedural series starring Chief Inspector Reginald Wexford. But Rendell also writes under the nom de plume Barbara Vine, creating non-series books that are rich in psychological portraits of unstable people who are unwilling or unable to combat the ever-encroaching criminal chaos entering their lives. Hailed by both critics and fans as one of her best novels, A Judgement in Stone, although written under the Rendell name, arguably foreshadows what she would accomplish writing as Vine more than what she would do in the Inspector Wexford series.

Ostensibly about the killing of the Coverdale family by their surly maid because she couldn’t read or write, Rendell brilliantly examines the mindset of someone who would so willingly commit such a senseless crime. There is no mystery in A Judgement in Stone. The first sentence matter-of-factly informs us that the Coverdale clan has been murdered by their maid, Eunice Parchman. But there are numerous puzzling questions concerning Parchman’s descent into violence and how her illiteracy shaped her simmering rage.

Rendell’s straightforward yet elegant prose unflinchingly casts a strange spell over the proceedings, offering the reader no escape from the horrifying yet inevitable conclusion. Although Parchman is thoroughly unlikable, pathetic, and in many respects the personification of a tangible Evil, Rendell nevertheless manages to make us feel empathy toward her. Much of the novel painfully deals with Parchman’s inability to interact with people due to her illiteracy and how the fear of her disability being discovered overruled everything in her life. But we also grow increasingly frustrated with Parchman when help is offered to her and she refuses to accept it because ultimately she doesn’t care. She’s too far-gone, too content with the deadening comfort that is her dull, uneventful life.

For those of you who believe that British crime fiction is always good humored and cozily sordid, read this savage misanthropic masterpiece and feel the cold dread sink in. You’ll be scrambling for a Miss Marple novel in no time flat.