MORE HAMMER

Continuing to plough through the recent spate of Hammer BluRays, this morning it was a double-bill of Rasputin - The Mad Monk and The Reptile. Since these two 1966 productions were released on the same bill in many markets, it made sense to watch them together.

The Reptile is the lesser of the two Cornwall set horror flicks filmed back-to-back by director John Gilling (the other being the much more satisfying Plague of the Zombies). Essentially a female take on the werewolf mythos, The Reptile has a decent plot and performances, and an interesting choice in male lead with ruddy-faced Australian Ray Barrett, but it is let down by the appearance of the title (she) creature, which is brilliant in design but sadly lacking in the execution, with Roy Ashton’s budget-restricted make-up effects not up to his usual high standard.

Much more successful is Rasputin - The Mad Monk, which has a more classically grand, epic feel, is quite mature in its nature and features another great, commanding performance by Christopher Lee in the title role, bringing his Count Dracula charisma and vibe to the sexually-charged Russian madman. Barbara Shelley is also wonderful in the role of Sonia, the Tsarina’s lady-in-waiting who falls under the spell of Rasputin (and commits a wicked act in his name which is still shocking nearly fifty years later).

As with the other releases, the BluRays of The Reptile and Rasputin have a great selection of nice extras - including making-off featurettes and, in the case of Rasputin, a cool little documentary on the vintage Hammer paperback novelisation tie-ins.

QUATERMASS

What a treat it was to watch the new Blu-Ray of Hammer’s 1967 sci-fi classic Quatermass and the Pit. When I sat down and put it on I realised that the only copy of the film that I have previously ever owned was a VHS taped off a television broadcast from the nineties (where it was shown under its alternative title, Five Million Years to Earth), so seeing it in any kind of hi-def for the first time was a real eye-opener.

 

Quatermass and the Pit still holds up as intelligent, clever and sometimes thought-provoking piece of genre filmmaking, with director Roy Ward Baker delivering a very satisfying blend of science and scares, and anchored by a commanding performance by Andrew Keir as Professor Quatermass. Sure, some of the characters are cliched and a couple of the effects look more suited to the Dr. Who episodes of the day, but the story is engrossing and rousing, and there are more than enough clever and effective visual touches to compensate (such as the devil-like Martian spectral image that appears over the city at the film’s climax - a genuinely disturbing visage). And on top of everything else, we get the beautiful Barbara Shelly in a cute plaid skirt and tight red sweater!

VALE MARZIPAN

Melbourne's cinema-going society lost one of their own over the weekend when Marzipan, who was the resident cat at the magnificent art deco cinema the Astor Theatre, died at age of 21 after suffering a long illness. Marzipan was adopted by the cinema management when she wandered into the lobby as a stray kitten back in 1992, and since then she had become an integral and much loved part of the theatre - always lounging on the comfy chairs in the upstairs and downstairs lobby, mingling with the crowds in search of a pat, wandering through the cinema like she owned the place and frequently finding a warm lap to sit on for a nap. On several occasions, she was known to scare audience members when she would unexpectedly leap up on someone's lap during a particularly tense moment in some horror or thriller movie.

Marzipan became so popular and adored she was the subject of newspaper articles, a Facebook page and even Melbourne's biggest newspaper carried a story on her passing. As someone who lives only a few minutes walk from the Astor and has been a regular patron of it's great screenings of films new and old since 1982, I will certainly miss the pitter patter of her little feet and the warmth and unity her presence brought to an audience. She certainly lucked out when she wandered off a busy street into that cinema, and 21 years is a great life for a kitty much loved and spoiled rotten.
 

http://m.theage.com.au/victoria/astor-cat-bows-out-20130324-2go37.html

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=740102618#!/marzipan.astorcat?fref=ts

HARD TIMES

 

Finally had a chance to revisit Allan Moyle’s 1980 teen rock movie Times Square last night, the first time I have seen it since its original theatrical release. The story of two teenaged girls (from wildly different classes and backgrounds) who bust out of a neurological hospital and survive on the streets of New York, forming their own punk duo The Sleaze Sisters with the aid of renegade DJ Johnny LaGuardia (Tim Curry), it’s an entertaining but unexceptional film for the most part. There’s a good new wave/punk soundtrack featuring the likes of Roxy Music, Lou Reed, The Ramones, Talking Heads and more, and Trini Alvarado and Robin Johnson are fine in the lead roles of Pammy and Nicky respectively. But the real interest in the film lies is in its setting - filmed entirely on location, Times Square captures the seedy landscape of 42^nd St in all its lurid glory, just as it was on the cusp of it’s big clean-up and transition from a grotty urban jungle wallowing in danger and character to a bland Disneyland-esque family attraction (in fact, one of the subplots of the film revolves around the political campaign to ‘beautify’ Times Square).

 

Some of the movies spotted on the cinema marquees in Times Square include Al Adamson’s Nurse Sherri, Cry Rape, House of Psychotic Women (which the two female leads briefly lampoon),The Dark and perennial grindhouse fave Snuff. Also features a brief appearance by legendary 1970s/80s porn starlet Sharon Mitchell (who also popped-up in William Lustig’s 1981 sleazy cult 42^nd St fave Maniac).

 

While Times Square has garnered something of a cult following over the years, at the time of its release in was unmercifully savaged by most critics, none more so than David Denby in New York Magazine, who spat out: "This evil, lying little fantasy has been photographed in ugly color, and a mess of mediocre rock music has been draped across it like mozzarella on lasagne. If the producer, Robert Stigwood, sells soundtrack albums with this movie, he should set up a fund for every girl mugged, raped or battered in Times Square".

 

Hunt down the double vinyl soundtrack LP on the RSO label and look for the out-of-print Anchor Bay DVD, which features an audio commentary by director Moyle (Pump Up the Volume, Empire Records) and co-star Johnson.

DAMIANI'S SLEAZY POSSESSION

Produced by Dino De Laurentiis, Damiano Damiani’s Amityville II: The Possession is a great underrated horror movie from its period. Released in September of 1982, it came along at the tail end of a wave of demonic possession films that had started a decade earlier with the 1973 release of William Friedkin’s The Exorcist. Yet despite being one of the final entries in a cycle that was quickly growing stale, Amityville II remains one of the best examples of the genre, surpassing 1979's The Amityville Horror by a good margin.

While The Amityville Horror was based on supposed events, Amityville II at it’s core is a prequel that is based on real, proven events - the 1974 massacre of the DeFeo family (parents and four children) by the oldest son, Ronald DeFeo (it was after this event that George and Kathy Lutz bought the now-infamous Amityville house and fled from it in terror 28 days later, claiming it to be harbouring demonic forces). Using the DeFeo story as the spine of his screenplay, along with material from Hans Holzer’s 1979 true crime book Murder in Amityville, Tommy Lee Wallace incorporated the supernatural spook elements from the first film and came up with a plot about a highly dysfunctional family who move into the Long Island home and instantly become prime feeding material for its infested soul, with the most troubled and vulnerable occupant, oldest son Sonny Montelli (Jack Magner) chosen as the one to spread mayhem and murder.

Of course, Amityville II is not necessarily a exceptional film if you are looking at it purely from a writing, performance and directing perspective - it’s the presence of other interesting elements which help distinguish it from similar fare. The dialogue may not always be sharp, but the themes the screenplay explores are often confronting and uncomfortable - none more so than the incestuous relationship depicted between oldest siblings Sonny and Patricia (the wonderful Diane Franklin). The scene where Sonny (quite easily) persuades Patricia to take off her nightie, then confesses to stealing her underwear before he seduces her, has an air of perverse sexual tension that is almost palpable. And while this happens after Sonny has clearly become possessed, there are obvious prior hints that their relationship is a very flirtatious and sexually-charged one (look no further than the scene where Patricia, dressed in tight jeans and pure white jumper, practices her ballet poses in front of Sonny). The incestuous angle is one of those themes found in early-80s genre cinema that most studios would not even try to get away with today (especially in such an exploitative way), and it’s what helps give Amityville II that unique feeling of sleaze and seediness which pervades almost every frame of its running time.

One of the most curios aspects of Wallace’s screenplay is that it doesn’t let you feel much sympathy for the characters. Instead of taking a likeable family and establishing an identity for them which is slowly destroyed, Wallace gives us a family who are already dysfunctional, ugly and rotting away from the inside. Father Anthony Montelli (Burt Young) is the slovenly, brutal head of the family, constantly grumpy and dishing out slaps across the face and belts across the backside at the drop of a hat. He looks like he works on a wharf or a meat-packing plant in the Bronx, and totally out of place in his new surroundings. Young’s performance is both amusingly over the top and genuinely creepy. As wife Dolores, Rutanya Alda plays her character like someone slightly out of step with time - in many ways, she epitomises the loyal but naive American housewife of the 1950s, in denial but still desperate to cling to the suburban dream. You have to wonder what her wholesome character first saw in the man she married, but Young and Alda manage to create an interesting chemistry between each other that is always fun to watch.

As Sonny and Patricia, Jack Magner and Diane Franklin are terrific in roles that would have offered a bit of a challenge to effectively pull off. Magner is generally decent as a teenager on the verge of manhood but still living under the oppressive hand of his father, but where he really excels is simply in his presence, his eyes and his facial expressions, which become progressively more demonic and deformed as the story unfolds. And Franklin (Terrorvision, Better Off Dead, The Last American Virgin) demonstrates once again why many people (myself included) consider her one of the best and most versatile young actors from that period. In Amityville II, Franklin’s character displays some interesting dualities - she exudes a naive innocence yet eagerly embarks on a sexual affair with her brother. After sleeping with him, she runs off to confess the next day to the family priest (James Olsen), yet tells Sonny that she doesn’t regret what has happened between them at all. Franklin has rarely looked lovelier than she does here.

The final reel of Amityville II not only does an entertaining riff on The Exorcist, but offers up some pretty tasty prosthetic make-up effects courtesy of John Caglioni, Jnr. By 1982, thanks to the rising cult status of make-up artists like Dick Smith and Tom Savini, effects had become an integral part of a horror movie’s success. It got you valuable coverage in horror bible Fangoria, and in the pre-internet days a horror flick with convincing or unusual make-up effects always garnered some effective word of mouth.

Another factor which adds greatly to the appeal of Amityville II is it’s gloomy look and sense of oppressive atmosphere which cinematographer Franco DiGiacomo creates, using shadows and darkness inside the house and washed-out colours in the exterior scenes, giving the film a continually bleak and colourless tone (as does the fine mist, dead leaves and dirty pools of melting ice that fill many of the outside locations). There is the expected overuse of POV shots to try and create tension, but there are also some genuinely clever and creative photographic touches - a white tablecloth flies down a hallway and covers an offending crucifix that is hanging on the wall, and there’s a nice shot which tracks Sonny from behind as he stalks the house at night, before the camera does a continual 180 flip and tilt to reveal the character front on. The film’s tone is compounded by a suitably creepy and ambient score from the always reliable Lalo Schifrin.

Filmed mostly in Mexico (the house exteriors were shot at the same New Jersey location as the previous film), Amityville II comes close to being one of late Italian director Damiano Damiani’s best films. It doesn’t reach the same heights Damiani scaled in his 1966 spaghetti western A Bullet for the General or the 1971 Italian cop actioner Confessions of a Police Captain, but in Amityville II he delivers a downbeat yet wildly entertaining spook show with a healthy dose of 42^nd St grind.

If you live in Melbourne, Australia, ACMI cinemas will be screening Amityville II: The Possession on Sunday, 14^th of April as part of Scream and Scream Again, a program of horror movie sequels from the 1970s and 80s, which will also include Jaws 2, Halloween II and Damien: Omen II. You can find more about the screenings at the ACMI website. Amityville II is also available on DVD, the best release being Sanctuary’s 2004 UK special edition, which features an+ entertaining audio commentary by Kim Newman and Stephen Jones, along with a nice booklet and set of mini lobby cards.

Review Copyright John Harrison 2013.

FILMINK INTERVIEW

The current issue of Australia's Filmink magazine (March 2013), features a small article and interview with me, discussing my new Blood on the Windscreen book.
 

Also nice to read artist/writer Stephen Bissette's comment on the publications: "Just finished reading John Harrison's excellent little chapbook BLOOD ON THE WINDSCREEN (that's "WINDSHIELD," Americans!), which provides a perfect overview of the 1950s-1970s Driver's Ed movies that were inflicted upon us in driving classe...s and/or "Shop" (Mr. Murphy showed us one at Harwood Union High School in Shop class) back in the day. Modest but definitive book, recommended—and just the sort of history I was calling for in one of my brief FILM THREAT articles back in 1990."

CINEMA SEWER

Finally filled-in a couple of gaps in my collection of Cinema Sewer magazine, which I used to pick-up from one of the local comic book shops in Melbourne until it became a bit scarce to find. I’m always happy when I see an old-school fanzine still doing the rounds in hard copy, and Canadian Robin Bougie’s is (and always has been) up there with the best of the exploitation/trash film zines.

Published in standard comic book size (as opposed to the digest format of early issues) the most recent issue of Cinema Sewer (#25, February 2012) features a stunning piece of pulp cover art that heralds the issue’s main article, which looks at the much-loved genre of sleazy Nazi concentration camp horrors (The Beast in Heat, SS Camp 5, Gestapo’s Last Orgy and, of course, the infamous Ilsa movies).

Elsewhere within the issue’s forty pages, we have coverage of daredevil documentaries (Death Riders, The Devil at Your Heels), reviews of everything from Sissy’s Hot Summer (1979) and Monkey Hustle (1976) to Megaforce (1982) and Streets of Fire (1984) and lots more that is designed to not only entertain and amuse, but potentially outrage and offend those who pick the magazine up by mistake . And as usual, the whole issue is handwritten by Bougie himself, who also provides the bulk of the magazine’s original illustrations. It’s an approach which gives Cinema Sewer a unique personal touch and sets it apart from just about every other film magazine out there (also gives me RSI just thinking about all the work Robin puts into each issue!).

At a measly four bucks, Cinema Sewer is well worth your money and support. Issue #26 has just been published, you can order it, along with back issues and the three Cinema Sewer compilation books published by FAB Press, over at the magazine’s website at: www.cinemasewer.com
　

LEWIS' LOST SLEAZE

THE LOST FILMS OF HERSCHELL GORDON LEWIS

Directed by Herschell Gordon Lewis

USA 1969/71

Studio: Vinegar Syndrome

Number of Discs: 2 (Blu-Ray/DVD)

 While the majority of Herschell Gordon Lewis’ films were unearthed and released to the public (by the likes of Midnight Vide, Palace Explosive and Something Weird Video) in the 1980s and early-nineties, three titles from his oeuvre continually eluded his loyal band of fans and collectors. Now, thanks to the efforts of Process Blue (a film restoration facility), the Lewis filmography is one giant step closer to being complete, with the discovery and subsequent release of three of the Godfather of Gore’s obscure and previously lost sexploitation films: Linda & Abilene, Ecstasies of Women (both 1969) and Black Love (1971).

The pick of the litter here is definitely Linda & Abilene, which features the lovely Sharon Matt and was filmed at the infamous Spahn Ranch in California, an archaic location that was the setting for many western movies and television shows, and was being used as a hideout by Charles Manson and his band of counterculture followers at around the same time that Linda & Abilene was being filmed there (in fact, Lewis has claimed in several interviews over the years that members of the Manson gang were spotted wandering around in a psychedelic haze at various times throughout the filming). This morbid little anecdote aside, Linda & Abilene is a western sexploiter, but unfortunately an overlong and not very exciting one, especially considering some of the rougher adult westerns that were doing the flea-pit rounds at the time (such as Van Guylder’s The Ramrodder). The highlight is easily the lesbian interlude between Linda (Roxanne Jones) and Abilene (Matt), though unfortunately this doesn’t come until ten minutes from the film’s so-called climax.

In Ecstasies of Women, sleazy lingerie salesman Harry (Walter Camp) and his three pals celebrate his last night of bachelorhood at the most sparsely decorated strip joint in town, watching a couple of bored women gyrating on stage ("They must have ball-bearings for bone joints", one of his boozy pals comments). In between rounds of groping the topless waitresses, Harry affectionately thinks back to some of his more memorable female conquests, all of which take place on his yacht the ‘High Life’ (which remarkably has an interior at least four times the size of the exterior). By the end of the night, the whole gang (including the waitresses and strippers) end up back on the yacht enjoying a little group action, with Harry waking up the next day and deciding to leave his bride-to-be at the altar so he can continue his wicked, wicked ways. Filmed in Hollywood, Ecstasies of Women is basically a 1962 nudie film with some 1969 bush shots, and once again features Sharon Matt, along with some cool music (a mixture of guitar and sleazy lounge).

The final film on the disc, Black Love is essentially a ‘white coater’ (i.e. - a sex flick disguised as a documentary in order to get racy material passed the local censors). It is also the only hardcore sex film that Lewis is known to have directed (under the pseudonym R. L. Smith), and is a very grotty ‘document’ (complete with borderline offensive narration) of the sexual practices of African Americans, who apparently have different desires to other folks. Consider it the filmmaker’s contribution to the burgeoning blaxploitation genre, which was just starting to find popularity at the time.

While not amongst the highlights of Lewis’ career, it’s terrific to see these finally out there, and packaged together at a reasonable price. A definite must-have for Lewis collectors and fans of late-sixties skinema.

Vinegar Syndrome’s Blu-Ray/DVD release of The Lost Films of Herschell Gordon Lewis features crisp, original camera negatives that have been scanned and restored in 2K. It obvious that the original negatives Process Blue discovered were rarely used and in remarkably good shape for their age. Also included are the original trailers for all three films, reproductions of the lab cards, and a 10 page illustrated booklet featuring liner notes by Casey Scott.

Reviewed Copyright John Harrison 2013

GOLDEN GODDESSES

Golden Goddesses:

25 Legendary Women of Classic Erotic Cinema 1968 - 1985

by Jill Nelson

"I made it a rule, an absolute rule for all of the films that no women were allowed on the crew except for make-up. The technical crew: cameraman, gaffer, grip and sound — I never hired a woman. I don’t like women." (Roberta Findlay)
 

There is a continuing, undeniably voyeuristic fascination with people who were involved in the golden age of adult cinema (both in front of and behind the camera). Perhaps it’s the fact that they were both pioneers in a field of phenomenally popular (and perennially profitable) entertainment, yet also looked down upon as outcasts by the majority of mainstream society, who were happy to inwardly look but outwardly condemned. Or perhaps it’s partly because the people then had definitive personalities, looks and styles, unlike the mostly cookie-cutter, fake blonde and siliconed boobed porn starlets of today.

The co-author of the definitive John Holmes bio, Inches, Jill Nelson returns with Golden Goddesses: 25 Legendary Women of Classic Erotic Cinema 1968 - 1985. Told in an oral history format, Nelson has selected a diverse range of names to interview - including not just performers but also screenwriters, directors and costumers - which not only give us a terrific insight into the adult film industry during this rapidly evolving outlaw period, but allows us to know them as women, individuals and human beings. The bulk of the credit for this, of course, belongs to Nelson herself, who has obviously been able to win the trust of her subjects enough for them to open up a lot more than they would have in the pages of publications like Adam Film World back in the day.

Picking out highlights is a tough ask. The interviews conducted with actors who have since passed on (Marilyn Chambers, Juliette Anderson, Barbara Caron Mills) resonate with a certain sadness, but also serve as fitting epitaphs. Likewise, the chapter on actor/director Ann Perry (House on Bare Mountain, The Toy Box, Sweet Savage) also has an emotional timbre to it, since Perry’s battle with Alzheimer’s meant that her son had to do most of the talking for her. Elsewhere, Jody Maxwell (often billed as ‘The Missouri Stick Licker’) talks about losing her film virginity to Jamie Gillis and her unique talent for being able to sing while performing oral sex, and Laurie Holmes remembers her life with John and her disdain at the current state of the porn industry.

If I had to pick a favourite chapter, however, it would have to be Nelson’s interview with the normally publicity-shy Roberta Findlay. Along with her husband Michael, Roberta Findlay was responsible for some of the more notorious of the sexploitation black & white ‘roughies’ that emerged from the New York underground of the mid-to-late 1960s, including Satan’s Bed (1965, starring a pre-Lennon Yoko Ono), Take Me Naked (1966, written by and starring Roberta) and the infamous Flesh trilogy (The Touch of Her Flesh, The Curse of Her Flesh and The Kiss of Her Flesh). They later turned to the drive-in and grindhouse circuits, producing the 1971 Manson-inspired film Slaughter, which had footage added to it by Allan Shackleton and re-released in 1976 as the notorious Snuff (‘The film that could only be made in South America...where Life is CHEAP!’). After Michael Findlay was killed in a 1977 helicopter crash, Roberta went on to direct hardcore features such as Mystique (1979) and Shauna: Every Man’s Fantasy (1985, a tribute to Shauna Grant, who had committed suicide a year earlier), as well as returning to exploitation and horror with the likes of the grimy Tenement (1985) and Blood Sisters (1987). An impressive oeuvre indeed, and Findlay relays a lot of great anecdotes and memories, from hiding film reels at the bottom of a well to avoid the authorities, getting a cyst in her breast removed (a result of years of filming with a 40 pound Panaflex camera) , and her love for dialogue and disdain at actually having to shoot hardcore sex ("I was always disgusted by the sex scenes so I’d say "Okay, everybody screw". That would be it").

Other names covered in Golden Goddesses include such well-known names (at least within the industry and it’s supporters) as Seka, Kay Parker, Georgina Spelvin, Christy Canyon, Nina Hartley, Annie Sprinkle, Ginger Lynn (whose chapter touches on the industry-changing Traci Lords underage scandal), Veronica Hart, Kitten Natividad and Serena.

At 950 pages, Golden Goddesses is an expansive and exhaustive tome, heavily illustrated with over 300 black & white photos (including many candid and childhood snaps), and an essential addition to the library of anyone with more than a passing interest in its subject matter. I only hope that Nelson returns to the adult genre in the near future, as her two works on the subject so far have provided welcome breaths of fresh air in a field filled with uninspiring, sensationalistic and inaccurate studies.

Review Copyright 2013 John Harrison

Golden Goddesses: 25 Legendary Women of Classic Erotic Cinema 1968-1985 is published by Bear Manor Media (www.bearmanormedia.com). You can also visit the Golden Goddesses blogger page at: www.goldengoddessesbook.blogspot.com
 

HER NAME IS BOND...

A sneek peek at my new book, scheduled for later in 2013...more details posted here as they become more concrete.

 

RENE BOND:
AMERICA'S TRAGIC TEENAGE FANTASY

by John Harrison

 

Before the emergence of Linda Lovelace, Marilyn Chambers and Georgina Spelvin, Rene Bond was about the closest thing America had to a celebrity porn starlet. A naturally pretty, sweet and youthful looking brunette (mostly), Bond entered the adult industry in 1969, appearing in over 300 8mm ‘loops’ (including some extreme bondage ones) and features, both softcore (Please Don’t Eat My Mother, Country Cuzzins, Convict Women, Ed Wood’s Necromania) and XXX (Teenage Sex Kitten, Cream Rinse and the classic Teenage Sex Fantasies). Known for her impressive oral techniques, and possessing an enhanced bust rumoured to have been paid for by low budget exploitation producer Harry Novak, Rene Bond disappeared from both the porn scene and public life in the late 1970s, her last known appearance being on an episode of the television game show Break the Bank in 1986. She died of liver failure in 1996 at the age of just 45, unaware of her burgeoning status as a cult figure and porn pioneer.

MASTERFUL MASSACRE

Just finished my annual viewing of Tobe Hooper's original Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974). Just gets better to me with every passing year...it is one of those movies that is always there in my all-time Top 5 (of all genres), and I can't see anything ever being able to push it out (though I more than welcome any serious challengers).

 

For all it's brutality and gut-level terror, I also find TCM to be a very funny film in many ways, though it took me several viewings to really see and appreciate the humour in it, so effective was its horror. I view it almost like a live-action 1950s EC horror comic - characters like the Hitchhiker and the father were almost straight out of a classic EC story. The EC comparrisons are I think compounded by the fact that, just like their old stories, the movie had plenty of brutal violence but no nudity or overt sexual activity (something very rare for what was essentially a low-budget regional film aimed mostly at the drive-in crowd). And the first apperance of Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) has to rate as one of the most economic but effective introductions of a monster in horror movie history.

 

I first saw TCM back in 1983, when the ban on the film in Australia was finally lifted. I was 19 and had been reading about the film in books like Splatter Films and Cult Movies, and an issue of Fangoria with a Hooper interview, so I was very excited to hear it was finally getting a cinema release locally (and I was now old enough to see it). The film was being screened in Melbourne at a cinema that was undeground off a little alleyway in the heart of Melbourne city....it had shown arthouse and exploitation stuff in the 70s but by this stage was more grindhouse/adult stuff (they would later go exclusively hardcore sex for the last remaining years in the early-nineties).

 

I remember showing up for the first session of TCM on opening day, buying a ticket from a girl who looked confused having to wear clothes for a change, and sitting with baited breath in the cinema (with about three other people), only to be let down when an announcment came on that there was a problem with the projector and the days' sessions were cancelled. So I was even more wound-up with anticipation when I returned the following day - the experience was worth the wait though. I still have the little promo poster I pulled off the grimy lobby wall when no one was looking:

 

BLOOD ON THE WINDSCREEN Out Now!

BLOOD ON THE WINDSCREEN

By John Harrison

 

THE COLD & VIOLENT WORLD OF THE DRIVER’S EDUCATION FILM 1959 - 1975

 

Blood on the Windscreen takes us on a gaudy journey through one of the most foreboding of all film genres: the Driver’s Education film.

Shown in classrooms across America, the Driver’s Education film hit its peak in the early-1960s, when the notorious Ohio based company, Highway Safety Films, Inc., began producing a series of in...credibly graphic and unnerving 16mm shorts that showed young high school kids no mercy as it attempted to curb the slaughter that was taking place on American freeways.

Featuring a history of the genre, a look into the sordid underbelly of Highway Safety Films, Inc., an A-Z filmography and an interview with Bret Wood (director of the classic documentary on the subject, Hell’s Highway), Blood on the Windscreen is your perfect (shattered) window into this unique and disturbing era of classroom education.

Blood on the Windscreen will be available through Amazon from January 2013 and is published - suitably enough - in the style and format of a vintage educational booklet from the 1960s.

ISBN: 978-1481073455/Pages: 28/Price: US $6.00

http://www.amazon.com/Blood-Windscreen-Violent-Drivers-Education/dp/1481073451/ref=pd_rhf_dp_p_t_1_BV6E
 

NATURE STRIKES BACK!

MASSACRED BY MOTHER NATURE:

EXPLORING THE NATURAL HORROR FILM
by Lee Gambin
 

The ‘nature amok’ movie has always been one of my favourite genres of horror cinema (ever since I ventured into the city as a kid and saw a double-bill of Squirm and Food of the Gods at the old Dendy cinema in Collins St), and considering its popularity amongst fans, it’s surprising that there hasn’t been a book exclusively devoted to it until now.

Authored by Melbourne based writer (and regular Fangoria contributor) Lee Gambin, Massacred by Mother Nature is an exploration of the natural horror film, tracing its roots through King Kong and such 1950s gems as Tarantula, Them!, Godzilla and Earth Vs. the Spider – where nature usually had a helping hand from human experimentation or atomic test fallout – and on into the 60s (The Birds, The Deadly Bees), before the genre really exploded in the 1970s, which was definitely the decade when nature ran berserk on cinema and drive-in screens across America (and many other parts of the world, Australia included).

In the first half of the seventies, it was the smaller forms of life like frogs (Frogs), spiders (Kiss of the Tarantula), rodents (Willard and it’s sequel, Ben ) and worms (Squirm) that were causing the most mischief onscreen, before a little movie called Jaws came along in 1975 and – along with The Exorcist a year earlier – helped to redefine modern horror cinema and brought the genre (for better or worse) into the realm of reputable studio prestige productions. Exploitation producers followed suit, and the phenomenal success of Jaws resulted in films like Grizzly, Orca, Day of the Animals and Piranha. The 50s trend of insects and wildlife enlarged by the meddling hands of man continued in films such as Night of the Lepus, Prophecy and Food of the Goods, while even the Italians got into the act with Killer Fish and the blatant Jaws inspired Great White (which Universal successfully took action against to prevent it’s US release).

Nature horror films continued into the 1980s and beyond (remember Cujo and the down under terror of Razorback?), but the seventies were clearly the golden years for the genre.

Eschewing the A-Z formula of most film books of this type, Massacred by Mother Nature is written in an entertaining, breezy but informative and knowledgeable style which reflects Gambin’s genuine love for – and unique take on - the genre. Chapters are divided into themes (such as The Bad Doggies of Cinema, The Discreet Charm of the Creepy Crawly and – one of my favourite sections – Stock Characters of the Ecological Horror Film). The book concludes with a series of brief interviews with various actors/composers/writers/directors (Dee Wallace, Jeff Lieberman, Charles Bernstein, Belinda Balaski, Joe Dante, etc.), who discuss their work in the ecological horror field.

Heavily illustrated throughout with black & white stills and often lurid poster art, and featuring introductions by Fangoria editor Chris Alexander, Dee Wallace, Veronica Cartwright and director Bert I. Gordon, Massacred by Mother Nature is a highly recommended and thoroughly welcome addition to any horror fan’s library.

 

(Midnight Marquee Press/USA/2012/220 pages)
Review copyright John Harrison 2012
 

Massacred by Mother Nature is avaialble from Amazon or direct from the publisher (Mdnight Marque Press) at www.midmar.com. Also check out the Facebook page devoted to the book at
www.facebook.com/massacredbymothernature

BIBLE CLASS

The Epic! exhibition  (100 years of film and the Bible) was small but impressive - a stunning collection of Bible-themed movie memorabilia, including stills, promo items, press kits and original posters (from all countries) that showcase some truly beautiful and visually arresting artwork.

Highlight of the exhibition for me was a set of original lobby cards from the 1960 exploitation/comedy The Private Lives of Adam & Eve starring the fabulous screen siren Mamie Van Doren. Was also amusing to see the Jewish Museum's gift shop selling reproduction posters from the Mitchell Brothers' Sodom & Gomorrah (1975), the two ladies at the counter totally oblivious to the fact that they are selling the poster for a XXX hardcore porno film.

Epic! runs at the Jewish Museum of Australia in Melbourne (26 Alma Rd., St. Kilda) until 3rd February 2013.

THE CATMAN DISHES ALL

Having finished the Peter Criss book (Make-Up to Break-Up: My Life In and Out of Kiss), I think it’s easily the most entertaining (and scandalous) of the three Kiss autobios released so far from the original members. While Gene’s book was just typical Gene and Ace’s was disappointingly short on Rock & Roll road stories, Criss comes out with all guns blazing, with his former bandmates, managers, accountants and an ex-wife (former Playboy playmate Debra Jensen) firmly in his sights.

 

Peter Criss is clearly a bitter man and I dare say more than a little paranoid and delusional about his own talents and achievements (his already huge ego was even further inflated by his co-writing and singing of Kiss’ surprise hit ballad Beth in 1976). When his early solo albums fail, it’s because Kiss and their management pressured the label into blackballing them, not because of their weak middle of the road material. When he continually gets screwed by the contracts during the reunion years (1996-2004), it’s always the fault of the lawyers and not his bad decision making. Criss wants us to empathise with him but it’s a little hard when he mostly refuses to take ownership of his own role in things always turning sour (though he does admit to being an asshole at times and having his mind clouded by a copious consumption of blow).

 

I’m sure that this is the truth as Peter Criss sees it, but any book in which the author admits to wanting to stick a knife in the neck of his former Kiss bandmates, and fantasises about flying to L.A. and shooting them, is surely going to have his thoughts and perspective somewhat clouded. Still, Make-Up to Break-Up is a rousing, angry, at times sleazy and very entertaining rock & roll memoir, written (with Larry ‘Ratso’ Sloman) by the original drummer from one of the biggest American bands of the seventies. From Ace Frehley’s chronic masturbation and the groupie who kept Criss awake all night as she screamed at Frehley to "Fuck me like a truck driver!" to Gene Simmons making everyone sick by refusing to wash the menstrual blood from the previous night’s conquest off his teeth, all those lurid moments that teen magazines like 16 and Tiger Beat never quite got around to covering back in the day are laid bare for all to wallow in.

 

One wonders how Paul Stanley might respond, with his own autobiography (and the last from the original line-up) due next year.