Horror Drive-In

Avatar Rules the World

2010-01-31T08:31:00.000-08:00

As I write this, James Cameron's Avatar is only a mere $50,000,000 from making two billion dollars at the box office. It's the biggest moneymaker of all time, beating out Cameron's own Titanic for the number one spot.

Is this a good thing?

I think it's a mixed blessing. I like Hollywood. I want to see the studios make money and succeed. However, I haven't always felt this way.

By the time the 90's came along, I was tired of horror, tired of Hollywood movies. I looked toward the underground for my movie fixes. Film Threat and Film Threat Video Guide chronicled the last gasp of cinematic underground. Super 8 film was still in use and maverick backyard (and backstreet) filmmakers were churning out explosive, anarchic movies. I embraced these shoddy little productions and I loathed the mainstream.

I've changed again. I don't watch a lot of independent movies any more. Now the shot-on-digital low budget products look cheap and ugly to me. I like Hollywood movies. But not the flashy, big budget stuff like Avatar and Sherlock Holmes. Though I haven't seen these films, I loathe them. From what I've seen of them from trailers and other clips, they look like computer games. Animation. That's not filmmaking. Not to me.

It's good that the studios are making money. 2009 was a good year, with a lot of successful releases. 2010 looks to be another one. People are uncertain and scared in this foul time. They turn to the movies for comfort and escape. It's always been this way, since the dawn of film production.

The thing that worries me is, will the extraordinary success of Avatar make it more difficult for the modest little productions I love?

Most of the movies I've enjoyed were either box office failures or they barely made their money back. Not all of the time, though.

Up in the Air was a refreshing change of pace and it has done nice business. Not anything near Avatar's bankroll, but it made a tidy profit. Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino was a fantastic film and it did very well. Quentin Tarantino had a fabulous comeback with his best film in ages, Inglourious Basterds. (500) Days of Summer made peanuts in comparison with the latest Twilight movie or Harry Potter film, but it was made on such a modest budget that it was a success.

But what of some of the other little movies that I enjoyed in recent memory?

My favorite of last year was Judd Apatow's underrated, misunderstood masterpiece, Funny People. It almost, but didn't quite, break even. Same with Adventureland. Ditto with another favorite, I Love You, Beth Cooper.

Bob Goldthwait's scathing World's Greatest Dad didn't even make a quarter of a million dollars at the box office. Werner Herzog's delirious Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans barely made over 4,000,000. Woody Allen's clever and funny Whatever Works performed poorly in America, but did well overseas.

Horror has always been apart from the mainstream. It walks its own path and does better in some years than others. This year wasn't good, but wasn't great either.

Orphan was one of the best. At least I thought so. And so did the public. It brought in a very respectable $75,000,000. Drag Me To Hell was Sam Raimi's comeback to horror and it earned over eighty-five million. A drop in the bucket to his Spider Man franchise, but it doubled its money. Zombieland was surprisingly good and did surprisingly well, topping at almost a hundred mil, quadrupling it's production budget.

The runaway hit was, of course, Paranormal Activity. This ragtag little wonder was made for less than catering costs on major movies. A paltry $15,000 budget brought in over $140,000,000!

It goes to show that there is no predicting the public and what they'll stand in line to see. Still, things like Paranormal Activity are flukes. I can see studios stumbling all over one another to repeat the success of Avatar. We've seen it many times before, haven't we?

I just hope that the studios won't stop funding the little gems out there. Things like Adventureland. Like Youth in Revolt. Like The Lucky Ones. These movies may seem like modest, inexpensive productions, but will the studios wish to continue wasting their time on them? When the big money is in the big, dumb, loud special effects bonanzas?

Like most old fogeys, I miss the old days. Days when effects were done by hand, by artists. And I know...computer programming can be an art, but I miss the hand's on method of special effects. I don't like movies that look like computer games.

There's only one thing we can do. We need to get off of our asses and away from these computers and our home theater systems and go out and support the little movies that need and deserve it. If we sit back and complain and don't go buy tickets, we are as much of the problem as those that will only support the obvious blockbusters out there.

Go to the movies. It's fun and I don't know if I've just had luck, but audiences have been more polite lately. At least for me. I think it helps that I always see matinees. There are fewer people in the auditoriums and the prices are lower. I think it helps a lot to avoid the ones that will be packed with dumb teens and see worthy films like Brothers, Moon, or Away We Go.

And if you disagree with me, go to the movies anyway. Theaters are places of dreams for us. Houses of magic. See the blockbusters, but try to see some of the other things out there, too. Take you kids, your nieces and nephews, little brothers and sisters. Sure, take them to see Avatar or the latest animated feature they want to see, but don't forget that it's a parent or guardian's job to show them that there are other things out there than the latest blockbuster that all of the other kids are talking about.

One last thing: If there is a drive-in or an independent theater near you and you aren't going on a regular basis, shame on you.

2009

2010-01-03T12:00:00.001-08:00

I hate to break out that hoary, Dickensian quote about the best and worst of times, but it seems applicable for the year 2009. It was an outstanding year for books and movies. Horror Drive-In flourished and my Cemetery Dance column finally became a reality.

My personal life wasn't so good, though. I tried like hell to save my marriage all through the year, but it came to no avail. Sometimes, no matter how badly you want something and no matter how hard you try, things do not come together.

I had thought that my machinist day job was nearly recession-proof, but things have been looking bad there, too. Hours have been cut and the future is uncertain. I like horror, but this is a little too scary for me.

Yet I had a better year than some. Death, as always, claimed a lot of people. I think that the older we get, the more we experience death. The loss of loved ones, public figures we looked up to, and our own faltering mortality tell us that Death is never far from our backs.

The biggest one for me came in February. Lux Interior, lead singer for the band, The Cramps, died suddenly. Everyone was shocked and it was a rare heart disorder that took his life. Lux embodied the very spirit of rock and roll. Music, and my life, will never be quite the same without him.

Then there was David Carradine, a hero of mine from Kung Fu and great exploitation films. He died in a particularly undignified way. It was simply tragic.

I met Joe Christ in 1998, but I had been a fan of his movies for a while before that. We became friends and he introduced me to my wife, Tanya, who was appearing in one of his productions. Joe passed away in his sleep. Again, it was sudden and shocking.

Another big blow was filmmaker John Hughes. His movies meant more to me than anyone else's. They may seem quaint to people now, especially younger people, but movies like The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off were vital and they helped many of us make sense of our own messed-up lives.

Paul Naschy was one of my favorite personalities in the world of horror cinema. His exotic movies were always colorful and exciting. Naschy was the only actor in history that played Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy, The Hunchback, Fu Manchu, and a Werewolf. He played the latter character fifteen times! Paul Naschy died of pancreatic cancer, at age 75.

Chas. Balun was the ferociousus bigfoot of horror journalism. In his Deep Red Magazine, Fangoria, Gorezone, and his books, Balun championed bold, relentless, uncompromising horror films and he had little patience for weak, gutless Hollywood studio productions.

The death of Michael Jackson got the most attention in 2009. I'm hardly a fan, but I was surprised at how it affected me. His life, from innocence to corruption, seemed to symbolize the way America has been in decline. As well as my own life.

There are others. Dan O'Bannon. Robert Holdstock. Marilyn Chambers. Don Edmonds. Dick Durock. Robert Quarry. Ron Silver. Henry Gibson. Robert "The Exterminator" Ginty. Soupy Sales. James Whitmore. The genre, no the world, owes all of these people. May they all rest in peace.

Here's one you might not have heard about: Lou Perryman. L.G., from Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. You know, the guy that built that li'l fry house? He was senselessly murdered in his home in Austin in April.

2009 was a good year for genre books. Many of the biggest stars are still putting out some of the best work of their careers. Dan Simmons blew me away with Drood. F. Paul Wilson continued his Adversary cycle with Ground Zero, and he also published his final collection, Aftershock and Other Stories. Joe R. Lansdale brought back his most beloved characters, Hap and Leonard, with Vanilla Ride. Bentley Little wrote the atypical His Father's Son, which I consider to be his finest novel. Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child shocked their fans with Cemetery Dance, the best Pendergast book in years. Bill Pronzini put out another in his spectacular Nameless Detective series, Schemers, which ended with a grim cliffhanger. Ed Gorman put out two of the best books of his career: The Midnight Room and Ticket To Ride.

Many rising stars continued to shine brighter. Brian Keene put out his regular two books from Leisure, and one ranks among my favorites of his books: Urban Gothic. Ronald Damien Malfi scored a coup with his intensely personal Shamrock Alley. Edward Lee's outrageous The Black Train was a scaled-back version of his small press book, Gast, which I haven't read. Still, The Black Train is possibly the most entertaining book I've read by him. Gillian Flynn proved that her stunning debut, Sharp Objects, was no fluke. Her second book, Dark Places, is at least as good as her first. Bryan Smith silenced the naysayers with his no-holds-barred Depraved. And Christopher Conlon wrote Starkweather Dreams, the best poetry book I've read in a decade. Never mind that it was the only poetry book I've read in a decade. That book is amazing.

Outside the genre I read a few things. The big one for me was Last Night in Twisted River, the best book that John Irving has done since A Prayer for Owen Meany.

I reread a lot of books, which is a trend I intend to continue. Straub's Koko was better the second time around and so were Lansdale's Cold in July and The Magic Wagon, King's It, Ellison's Spider Kiss and perhaps most of all, David Lozell Martin's emotionally devastating Crazy Love.

As for my favorite book of the year, nothing gives me greater joy than to report that Stephen King's Under the Dome comes in at Number One. This book blew me away and I raced through its 1088 pages as if my life depended on it.

I simply must give a special call-out to Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan's The Strain. This frenzied, wild vampire novel is the first in a proposed series, which I think could be the adrenaline shot that the genre needs. I loved it.

As far as I'm concerned, 2009 was an exceptionally good year for movies. I eschewed the high profile, FX heavy features for the most part, but I loved a lot of the littler movies that were released.

When I saw Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino in early January, I said that I would not see a better picture that year. I was wrong. So many great films came out.

Adventureland was a big favorite and it was a bittersweet slice of nostalgia for people of my generation. It was billed as being from the director of Superbad, which hurt its chances. Adventureland isn't an uproarious comedy, but a drama with some funny moments.

Observe and Report was a funny-weird, not funny haha movie. I thought it was edgy and uncomfortably enjoyable.

Moon was that rare thing: An intelligent science fiction movie about ideas.

(500) Days of Summer was the best romcom of the year. Actually, it was just about the only one that didn't make you want to shove an icepick into your brain.

I Love You, Beth Cooper was despised by most, but I thought it was sweet and charming and very funny, with some thoughts in its head. For me it gets better with repeated viewings.

Woody Allen's Whatever Works is far from his best picture, but it's funny and it makes you feel good. And a lesser film from Woody is leagues above what most others are capable of.

World's Greatest Dad was a savage satire that might be too much for some people. It reaffirmed for me that despite a lot of terrible roles, Robin Williams has a lot of talent.

Brothers was a compelling drama about the effects of war, not only on soldiers, but on the families of those at home. Not exactly the most original subject, but the film was brilliantly acted (mostly by a surprisingly intense Tobey Maguire) and nicely shot.

Tarantino had a comeback of sorts with Inglourious Basterds. It featured some of the best writing and performances of his career. Thankfully it was the success he deserved.

The Hangover was funny. Almost sickeningly so. I almost thought it was too brainlessly vulgar, but it won me over.

Now on to the horror/exploitation movies of 2009.

Drag Me To Hell was sam Raimi's high profile return to his roots. I thought it was outstanding. Others felt that it fell short of the mark.

Last House on the Left was one of the strongest of the modern remakes. In fact I thought it was better than Craven's original, which I always felt was uneven and overrated.

Orphan was a strong horror film, with superior performances and some genuine shocks. Easily the best Dark Castle production to date.

Jennifer's Body wasn't as strong as Juno, but Diablo Cody's screenplay was an all-stops-out blast. I had a ball with it.

Trick 'r' Treat was a fun movie that made me feel like I was back in the 80's again.

I was all ready to hate Zombieland. In fact I had no intention of seeing it. But I went anyway and the movie won me over. Big time. The characters had chemistry with each other and the laughs were genuine.

Paranormal Activity was the big surprise. Like The Blair Witch Project, it was a runaway success. And like The Blair With Project, Paranormal Activity has its admirers and detractors. I thought it was fantastic.

Now for some of the bad news.

Halloween 2 was even worse than Rob Zombie's first Halloween. Give ME some of the drugs he was using when he made it.

The Final Destination wasn't as bad as some claim, but without the stunning 3D effects, there's not much there to recommend.

As an adaptation of a Richard Matheson story, and as a followup to Donnie Darko, Richard Kelly's The Box was a disappointment. I didn't thoroughly hate it, but it seemed too wildly over-the-top and unfocused.

And as for the worst horror film of 2009, I have to go with a tie. I sincerely hope that The Collector is the final nail on the coffin of the so-called Torture Porn subgenre. Yes, it was a lot like an old drive-in movie of the 70's. Too bad the 70's are over. This one just came off as ugly and unpleasant. Of course, that was the intention of the filmmakers. It just didn't work for me.

The other rock bottom horror film of 2009 was the long-awaited The Hills Run Red. Despite a screenplay written in part by David J. Schow, I found this one to be virtually unwatchable. Maybe there was a good movie buried in there, but the repugnant use of flash-cut editing destroyed it.

But the big one for me was another one that most people didn't get. Or at least they didn't like it. For me, Judd Apatow's Funny People was easily the best of 2009. I thought it was so rich and filled with subtext. It even made me stop hating Adam Sandler. I've seen Funny People several times now, and I always get new things in it to marvel at with each viewing.

Well, there you have it. 2009 in a nutshell. Obviously, I didn't read or see everything, but I do keep my eyes on the movies screens and the book pages.

Let's hope that 2010 will be a better one. The world seems to be in insurmountable trouble and families are in dire circumstances. I have hopes for a happier tomorrow in my own personal life, but I honestly can't hope for a better year for books and movies than 2009.

Kinda Hot: The Making of Saint Jack in Singapore

2009-12-27T06:42:00.000-08:00

When I read Paul Theroux's Saint Jack in 1987, I had no idea that there was a film adapted from it. I don't think very many others did either. Saint Jack is one of those lost classics that you sometimes hear about.

I did see Saint Jack not too long after reading the book. It was aired on The Lifetime Channel, of all places. Of course it was heavily cut. I eventually obtained a videotape of it.

For those that know nothing about it, Saint Jack is the story of Jack Flowers, an American expatriate living in Vietnam War era Singapore. Jack is a pimp that provides a service to soldiers and drunken Brits, and he treats his ladies well. They need the work and they need someone savvy to facilitate their business. The irony of the story is that Jack, a pimp, is the most moral person the reader meets in the city.

Even though the film of Saint Jack was directed by famed auteur Peter Bogdanovich, it remained difficult to see. This is despite glowing reviews by most major critics, and a small but enthusiastic fanbase.

I was recently astonished to learn that a book was published on the making of Saint Jack. I knew immediately that this was something that I simply had to own. I count myself as one of the biggest fans of the film.

I had never heard of the publisher of Kinda Hot, but I was a bit suspicious. Marshall Cavendish Editions sounded to me like one of those glorified vanity presses, but a quick internet search proved that it was a genuine outfit that mostly did books for children. An odd home for a book about a pimp, but then everything is odd when it comes to Saint Jack.

My suspicions were put to rest on the first page of Kinda Hot. It was immediately clear that Ben Slater was a good writer. Mad as a fruitbat, obviously. Who in their right mind would write a book about a film that so few have seen?

Well, I'm damned glad that he did. Kinda Hot is fascinating from start to finish. From inception to preproduction and all the way through to the accounts of editing and the film's release, this is a wild account of a truly outlaw, guerrilla movie.

Saint Jack began as a proposed project for Orson Welles, who was friends with Bogdanovich. Welles envisioned Jack Nicholson in the lead. Well, why not? Jack was the king of the new Hollywood at the time. Welles never got the project past the talking stage, so Bogdanovich took over himself, with Dean Martin as a possible choice as Jack.

Either Nicholson or Martin would be interesting as Jack Flowers, and perhaps having one of these big names in the cast would have made Saint Jack a more successful movie. But I can't imagine anyone bringing the character to life as well as Ben Gazzara did. It's one of the finest performances of all time, in my opinion.

Peter Bogdanovich hit Hollywood like a hurricane with The Last Picture Show. It wasn't his first movie, but it was his first for a major studio. The film is considered to be one of the milestones of movie history and was one of the most important films in what became known as The New Hollywood. In the late 60's, the studios were having financial woes and young, passionate filmmakers were proving that artistic, moneymaking productions could be made for relatively little money. Along with Bogdanovich, directors like Martin Scorsese, Monte Hellman, Robert Altman, Woody Allen, Francis Ford Coppola, Dennis Hopper, Michael Cimino, William Friedkin, Arthur Penn and others were making smart, personal films that dealt in the reality of people's lives.

The Last Picture Show instantly made Bogdanovich a superstar. The film was compared to Citizen Kane, which of course was made by his idol, Orson Welles. Bogdanovich followed that triumph with two more successes: The wacky What's Up, Doc?, a modern screwball comedy that was inspired by the films of Howard Hawk and Preston Sturges; and Paper Moon, a depression-era comedy drama.

Though part of the radical New Hollywood, Peter Bogdanovich seemed like a director from an earlier era. He wanted to make films like his heroes from old Hollywood. At first he was succeeding. Things couldn't have been better for him.

But his days on top were numbered. Everyone knows that the despicable gossip monger parasites love nothing better than to tear down the subjects that had at first revered. Bogdanovich's high profile relationship with his Last Picture Show ingenue Cybill Shepherd became a farce in the eyes of much of the public. He was rapidly gaining a reputation as a tyrant with a monstrous ego on his sets. And worst of all, his films were becoming costly flops.

So Peter Bogdanovich had reached a point where it was becoming difficult to obtain the green light for proposed projects. Saint Jack didn't appear to have a lot of commercial potential. He wished to have complete creative control over this movie, which he hoped would be his comeback. With nowhere else to turn, Bogdanovich went to his old boss, Roger Corman, to seek funding for Saint Jack.

Like so many others (and many of the hot new directors in Hollywood), Peter Bogdanovich cut his teeth working for the King of Exploitation, Roger Corman. He was Assistant Director on The Wild Angels and did uncredited reshoots of a Russian science fiction movie called Voyage to the Planet of Prehistoric Women for Corman. And Roger Corman produced the first movie Peter Bogdanovich directed, the brilliant Targets.

Targets is an amazing film. It and Saint Jack are my favorites by Bogdanovich, even though others are more celebrated. It deals with two simultaneous plots. One in which aging horror star Boris Karloff wishes to retire from acting. Another deals with a normal young man that takes a rifle with a scope and shoots people on a freeway. Peter Bogdanovich plays a young director on the rise in it, which appears to be at least semi-autobiographical.

All of this has gotten away from Saint Jack, but it's crucial to understand where Peter Bogdanovich was when he made it. Still talented, still driven to perfection, but out of favor.

Roger Corman, ever with any eye on profit and what his audiences craved, like the idea of a movie about a pimp. He envisioned copious nudity in Saint Jack, and he agreed to fund as well as produce the film. Saint Jack was a go.

With little money but lots of determination, Peter Bogdanovich began to assemble the most talented individuals he could get on his budget. Gazzara came onboard and distinguished British actor Denholm Elliott joined the cast as the pivotal character William Leigh, an auditor that makes annual visits to one of Jack's employers.

The third important character in Saint Jack, the enigmatic Eddie Schuman, was played by Bogdanovich himself. He did the role with just the right amount of swagger. His acting brought a lot to the film, just as it did in Targets.

For authenticity's sake, the majority of the rest of the cast was made up of nonprofessional citizens of Singapore. This also augmented the tight budget that Corman provided.

For behind the camera talent, Robby Müller, hot off of his visually triumphant work on Wim Wenders' The American Friend, was hired as cinematographer.

A ragtag team was assembled, but Saint Jack was to be a difficult shoot. For one, Paul Theroux's novel was notorious in Singapore. The government was not happy about the way the book depicted their city, with its endless scenes of pimps, prostitutes, and gangsters.

Knowing that a permit would never be allowed for an adaptation of the hated novel, Peter Bogdanovich penned a treatment for a fictitious movie called Jack of Hearts, which kept many of the same details of Saint Jack, but omitting most of the seedier elements. The majority of the shoot was done on the sly, without permission. Still, some critical scenes required that they be shot in public areas. The production crew actually got members of the government's private security team to assist them at these times.

Financing can make or break a feature film and many I can think of suffered from the lack of a sufficient budget. In this case, the low budget, the frenzied pace, the small crew and the extensive use of local extras benefited Saint Jack. I can't imagine a better adaptation of it, regardless of who performed in it or directed it. Yes, the film makes changes to the book, sometimes in significant ways, but that's almost unavoidable. Especially in such an introspective novel in which much of the story takes place in the lead character's mind.

Saint Jack was released, mostly to good reviews. Roger Ebert declared it to be a revelation. But some reviewers seemed to be reviewing the man behind the film, Peter Bogdanovich, rather than the film itself. Vincent Canby panned it, as did some others. I can only say that they missed the subtle, yet profound, emotional depth of Saint Jack.

Saint Jack performed well in Europe and it played in some of the bigger cities in America. Roger Corman got a return on his investment. Of course. He was always shrewd in his deals. Yet I don't think he was the right distributor for Saint Jack. He was more used to drive-in and grindhouse distribution. Corman did successfully distribute some films from major foreign directors like Bergman and Fellini, but Saint Jack was an uneasy mix between an art and an exploitation film.

And, to no one's surprise, Saint Jack was banned in Singapore.

Tragically, Saint Jack became another failure for Peter Bogdanovich, even though he says that he is completely happy with the way the movie turned out. It simply never found the audience it deserved.

I don't know if anyone has read this far, but I hope that I've whetted a few appetites for Saint Jack. I've revealed few of the movies details and I've only hinted at the charm in it. The charisma of Ben Gazzara as Jack. The wonderfully tacky depiction of a Singapore that was to change very quickly after Saint Jack was completed. The stunning photography by Robby Müller. The great soundtrack with songs by Satchmo, Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash. The study of one man's struggle to maintain dignity in a city of greed and corruption.

Saint Jack was released on DVD by New Concorde in 2001. It's long out of print, but copies are still around for fairly reasonable prices. I urge all lovers of great cinema to find one. Sadly, the print is a little scratchy. God, I wish Criterion would acquire it and present a cleaned-up edition of it. It's at least as good as many of their releases and as far as I'm concerned, it's superior to a lot of them.

And after you've seen Saint Jack, perhaps you'll want to find a copy of Kinda Hot: The Making of Saint Jack in Singapore. It may prove to be harder to locate a copy of it for a good price, but if you love the film, I guarantee you'll love the book.

My Favorite Writers

2009-11-21T10:21:00.000-08:00

Reading has always been important to me. Even before I knew how to read. My older brothers were readers and some of my earliest memories are of wistfully gazing at covers of old science fiction books and wishing that I could read them. I was a quick learner and I was reading well before my general age group.

Like most, I started out with childrens picture books. Dr. Seuss, Golden Books, various things from the elementary school library, Walt Disney comics, etc. I could start with those, but I'll begin with what my kids used to call chapter books.

The first real writer I recognized as a favorite was Robert A. Heinlein. His books were real eye-openers for me and they remain among the most wonderful reading experiences of my life. My favorites were the ones written with teenage boys in mind for the audience. In fact I consider Have Space Suit, Will Travel to be the first real book I read. I treasure it to this day. I also adored Farmer in the Sky, Starman Jones, and Space Cadet, though I don't recommend carrying books with these titles in school. Not if you want any kind of social life outside of being considered the Class Geek.

Other Heinlein books I cherished are The Puppet Masters and The Door Into Summer. His short stories are generally pretty awesome too.

I loved Heinlein's later work when I was a kid: Stranger in a Strange Land, I Will Fear No Evil and Time Enough For Love. They were impressionable mainly because there was a lot of sex in them, but they had some pretty heady ideas in their pages too. As an adult I find these books to be a little too catty.

I'll never forget my father chastising me for reading Robert A. Heinlein. With all the strength of ignorance on his side, he assured me that I was reading trash. I guess I turned out to be right, huh?

I read Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five while I was in middle school. Again, it made an enormous impression upon me. I quickly read all of his books, including Breakfast of Champions. I'm not even sure I quite understood everything Vonnegut was trying to say in these books, but I knew that they were very funny, very entertaining, and that there were important ideas in them.

I can't say that I disliked anything that came before and up to Breakfast of Champions, but of course I had my favorites. I was a science fiction fan and the ones I loved the most were The Sirens of Titan and Cat's Cradle. I still think the latter would make an excellent movie in the proper cinematic hands.

I liked the first couple of post-Breakfast of Champions books, even while I felt that they weren't as vital as the earlier ones. Slapstick was all right and Jailbird wasn't a bad books. Something seemed to be missing though. Not one to give up hope, I made a rare hardcover purchase when Palm Sunday came out. I was burned. Even at the tender of twenty I thought Palm Sunday was unashamedly self-indulgent. I hated it and I never felt the same way about old Kurt again.

I had read Harlan Ellison years before I called him my favorite writer. I first encountered his work in a school anthology. The title of it now escapes me, but I never forgot the name Harlan Ellison. The story in question was called Silent in Gehenna. It was the best story in that anthology and one of the best short stories I had ever read. So when Pyramid Books began publishing its line of Harlan Ellison books in the 70's, I bought every one I could. And I was never, ever disappointed.

Ellison reminded me a bit of my previous favorite, Kurt Vonnegut, but Kurt started to seem like a cynical old fart and I found Ellison to be a more impassioned writer. Ellison gave a fuck and it showed in everything he did, from his fiction to his essays to his personal life.

I liked it all, but I was and probably still am partial to his nonfiction. I thought The Glass Teat was fantastic when I was in the tenth grade. I did a report on it that a teacher of mine didn't particularly care for.

But God, the stories. So many classics: Shattered Like a Glass Goblin, Repent, Harlequin, Said the Ticktock Man, Pretty Maggie Moneyeyes, Jefty is Five, Daniel White for the Greater Good, A Boy and His Dog. The list is long and I could go on and on. But it was when I received the November, 1980 issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction that I discovered my very favorite work by Harlan Ellison. It is called All the Lies That Are My Life and it blew me away.

I continued to read Ellison and I've liked most of what I read. Now it has become impossible to separate the man from the work and sadly Ellison's explosive personality has alienated him from the readers and the career that he should have had. I still love the guy and I check out what he has to say every chance I get.

I never tired of Harlan Ellison, but I began to crave something different. Still a dyed-in-the-wool science fiction fan, I read as much of the field I could. Frederik Pohl was a prominent name in the genre. As the publicists love to say, Pohl has been everything in the science fiction world: Fan, writer, agent, editor.

Frederik Pohl is widely known for his acidly satirical science fiction. He seemed to be as cynical as Vonnegut, but Pohl also loved space, while Vonnegut thought the whole space program was a colossal waste.

Pohl published dozens of stories and novels, often in collaboration with other science fiction writers. His most noted collaborations were with C. M. Kornbluth, who undoubtedly would have been one of the all-time greatest writers in the field if it hadn't been for his untimely death in 1958.

Frederik Pohl always delivered smart, wickedly entertaining fiction, but it was with 1976's Man Plus that he really came into his own. This Nebula-winning novel was far and away superior to anything he had written before. Yet his following novel that brought him his biggest praise. Gateway is probably my favorite science fiction novel. The only real rival it has with me is Bester's The Stars My Destination. Gateway not only won The Nebula Award, it won the Hugo Award, the Locus Award, and the John W. Campbell Award. All for best novel of the year. Gateway is the first in what became known as The Heechee Saga, which saw numerous sequels and a video game.

I read Pohl with wonder and awe, hunting down his old work and delighting in his new publications. After Gateway my favorites include The Cool War, The Space Merchants (with C.M. Kornbluth), JEM, and Starburst.

Pohl's body is aged, but his mind is as sharp as ever, as you can see in his blog. At age 90, Frederik Pohl is almost certainly the Dean of Living Science Fiction Writers and he is one of the few surviving members of SF's First Fandom.

Philip José Farmer is known for bringing sex into the previously chaste world of science fiction publishing. His 1952 novella, The Lovers, dealt with a human that has a sexual relationship with an extraterrestrial. It was later expanded into a full-length novel.

But Farmer wrote more than sex-based science fiction. He was kind of the mad literary prankster of the genre. He was doing what are now trendily called mash-ups long before most current practitioners were born. And unlike most, he had the literary props to pull it off.

Farmer loved to mix up his literary obsessions, and he always had explosive results. Like Doc Savage and Tarzan meeting in a wildly explicit novel. Or Tarzan of the Apes written by William Burroughs instead of Edgar Rice Burroughs. He wrote a book under the pseudonym of a Kurt Vonnegut character, which was the first one of his that really won my heart and made me a fan.

Philip José Farmer wrote experimental fiction, notably with Riders of the Purple Wage, which appeared in Harlan Ellison's groundbreaking Dangerous Visions anthology. He wrote an Oz book. Farmer wrote a book that chronicled Doc Savage meeting his five aides with Escape From Loki. He did a science fictional sequel to Moby Dick called The Wind Whales of Ishmael.

But mostly Philip José Farmer wrote knockout books that alternately embraced and defied genre. Adventure, science fiction, hardboiled mystery, fantasy, erotica. It was and is impossible to pigeonhole Farmer. My own favorite of his works is called The Image of the Beast, which predated over-the-top, sexually explicit, hyperviolent horror stories by decades.

Still, I was looking for something else...

It is uncool and unfair to list two trailblazing talents like Richard Matheson and Robert Bloch together, but that's really the way it was. I was a science fiction reader, remember? And the works by these two writers were most often found in the SF sections of bookstores.

I was obviously looking for something darker in my reading. Most science fiction writers dabbled in the dark stuff in their careers, but these guys specialized in it. And they both worked extensively in the movies, which I thought was très cool.

I searched high and low for titles by these guys and it seemed that the used bookstores had scant copies of their books. I eventually found all or at least most of them and I had a blast with them all.

Matheson and Bloch had highly different styles. Bloch's was more down-to-earth and Matheson's was more literary. And to be honest, it was Richard Matheson that I loved more. Both were amazingly talented and I cherish the works of them both to this day.

I think I prefer Bloch's short stories over his novels. Especially in the later periods of his life. Of course Yours Truly, Jack the Ripper is a certified classic, but I loved so many of them. Among my favorites are Beetles, The Movie People, I Do Not Love Thee, Dr. Fell, That Hellbound Train, Enoch, A Toy For Juliette, and The Man Who Collected Poe. Really, all of them are marvelous, even if some of Bloch's humorous stories seem wildly dated today.

As for his novels, for me Bloch was more successful with straight suspense rather than supernatural horror. My favorite is easily The Scarf and I can't imagine why some smart small press doesn't do a nice edition of this one. I also loved Night-World, American Gothic, and of course, Psycho.

Robert Bloch's work is typified by a delightfully ghoulish sense of humor. You'll be hard pressed to find a more entertaining author anywhere.

Richard Matheson, on the other hand, dealt in weightier issues. His fiction delves into the very fabric of reality. His themes have included primal consciousness, our souls, the afterlife, and spiritualism.

Though he is primarily known for his fantasy, horror, and science fiction, Richard Matheson has also written comedy, westerns and a war novel.

Today, Matheson is probably best known as the author of I Am Legend, which was adapted into at least three films, none of which are truly worthy of his talent. His time-travel romance, Somewhere in Time, has earned him a considerable fanbase. Other films based on his work include The Legend of Hell House, What Dreams May Come, A Stir of Echoes, and most recently, The Box.

However, Richard Matheson is revered by horror fans for his adaptations of Edgar Allen Poe stories for producer/director Roger Corman, his work on episodes of The Twilight Zone, The Night Stalker and The Night Strangler, and that horrifying Zuni Fetish Warrior Doll that terrorized Karen Black in Trilogy of Terror.

Richard Matheson is certainly one of the most remarkable writers of the last one hundred years and I expect readers and scholars to be discussing his work for decades to come.

Yet still I searched for more, even while the answer was right before my eyes.

I knew about Stephen King in the early 80's. Who didn't? He was everywhere. A publishing phenomenon. Movies were constantly coming out based on his work and everybody was reading him. Everybody but me, that is. I assumed that he was a trashy bestseller and I thought myself too enlightened to read him. Boy, was I an idiot.

I took the plunge while visiting some friends. I was spending the night and it was late, but I wasn't tired. A copy of The Shining was laying around and I picked it up. Instantly I was changed. From the first paragraph I read I considered myself a Stephen King fan. The style of The Shining was both literary and easily accessible. It almost seemed to me to be a radically new approach to writing.

From there I went on to read everything that King has published. This was at the time that Pet Semetery had just been published. I was blown away by them all. Of course I had my favorites; The Stand, Christine, Different Seasons, The Shining. And others that I felt were not his best, like Firestarter. But it's safe to say that I enjoyed every word I read by him. I particularly liked the comfortable way in which he wrote essays, introductions, and other pieces of nonfiction. King made his readers feel like close friends.

My love affair with King's writing culminated with It, a mammoth work that seemed to say everything he felt about childhood and fear. I flew through it at a frantic pace when it came out, but I reread it more carefully just this year and I still believe it to be among his finest novels.

Sadly, many of the post-It books were disappointments to me. I get no joy from saying that. Some, like The Tommyknockers, The Dark Half, and Needful Things were enjoyable enough, even if I felt that they were not up to the (high) standards of the earlier stuff. Others I didn't like at all and we'll leave it at that.

Oddly, the King books of the last twenty years that I loved the most seem to be the ones that most fans dislike: Gerald's Game, Dolores Claybourne, From a Buick 8, and The Colorado Kid.

I'm happy to report that I recently finished King's gargantuan Under the Dome, and I consider it to be one of his very best books ever.

Through my love of Stephen King, I of course read Peter Straub and again, I was blown away. The quality of the writing was something I'd never quite experienced before.

I started with Ghost Story and I immediately considered it to be the best horror novel I had ever read. The literary references made it fun, but it was also scary as hell.

After Ghost Story I read Shadowland and Floating Dragon, loving each one more than the one before. I've heard a lot of people complain about Floating Dragon, but at the time it was my favorite book. I loved the way Straub took a no-holds-barred approach to it.

I went back and read If You Could See Me Now. I don't consider it to be his best novel, but something about it really appealed to me. I've read that one three times. I still say it would make a fantastic movie.

I read them all. Julia, which was his first horror novel, and I also read Marriages and Under Venus. Those last two were straight literary works and while they're good, I think Peter Straub found his proper literary path in horror and suspense.

There was a five-year wait between Floating Dragon and Straub's next novel, Koko. I bought Koko in hardcover and I read it, but I was slightly disappointed. I missed the fantastic elements of the previous books. Koko deals with the darkness inside men and it is one of the best serial killer novels ever written. I reread it this year and I appreciated it far more this time around.

Straub followed Koko with a series of novels and stories that dealt around a character named Tim Underhill, most notably in The Throat. After that he penned various novels and stories, some with supernatural elements, others without them. I liked them all, but...

I had found another writer that took the top place on my list. His name is Joe R. Lansdale and before I had even read him, I had been hearing unanimous praise for his writing. I remember a three-book review in an old issue of Fangoria that was done by Stanley Wiater. I chalked Lansdale up as a writer that I needed to read. Then I saw an ad in The Twilight Zone Magazine for a book called The Drive-In. Obviously, this was a book I was born to read. I bought it that very week and I had a new favorite writer.

I've followed Joe's career with enthusiasm ever since The Drive-In and I've rarely been disappointed. He wrote in nearly every conceivable genre, but I felt and still feel that Lansdale is strongest when he does straight suspense. Cold In July, The Bottoms, A Fine Dark Line, Waltz of Shadows, Leather Maiden, The Big Blow, and Sunset and Sawdust are all amazing pieces of literature. And of course his Hap and Leonard books rank among the most entertaining novels I've ever read.

Lansdale writes like an early 20th Century rural storyteller spinning yarns from the back porch. His stories are uproarious and filled with all manner of sex and violence, but there is a righteous moral center to them.

Then there are his short stories. Lansdale's most famous, or perhaps most notorious is a better way to put it, is undoubtedly Night They Missed the Horror Show. I have yet to see a reader come away from that one unaffected. Other outrageous short stories by Joe are Steppin' Out Summer '68, By Bizarre Hands, Drive-In Date, and The Job.

Lansdale's fiction has perhaps grown a tad more subtle as the years have gone by. He no longer seems to feel the need to slam the reader in the temple with a sledgehammer. This is not to say that Joe has grown soft or mellow. He still has the power to shock and unsettle his readers, but I think he uses more atmosphere and depth of character these days.

Yet, and again, this pains me to say, sometimes Joe goes so far out that I have a difficult time following. I'm talking about things like Zeppelins West and its sequel, Flaming London. The Drive-In sequels. Some of the short stories don't do it for me either, like Bob the Dinosaur Goes To Disneyland and On the Far Side of the Cadillac Desert with Dead Folks. This sadly keeps Joe from the number one spot on my favorites list. Dubious honor that it may be.

I look back and I'm a little bit astonished that some writers whose work I love never made the list. I never called writers like Isaac Asimov, Clifford D. Simak, Arthur C. Clarke, Theodore Sturgeon, Philip Wylie, Fredric Brown, Robert McCammon, F. Paul Wilson, Thomas F. Monteleone, John Skipp/Craig Spector, Nancy A. Collins, Chet Williamson, Brian Keene, or even Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child my favorite writers. No matter how much I love these and dozens of other writers and their works.

Looking back at it all, there is one writer who has been the most consistent, who has constantly touched my heart and my mind. Book after book after book.

I lucked into reading Bill Pronzini early on. I saw a thriller that was written by Bill, in collaboration with a science fiction writer who wrote some books I liked: Barry Malzberg. The book was called The Running of Beasts and I consider it to have been far ahead of its time. The Running of Beasts (as well as another Pronzini/Malzberg book, Night Screams) is a serial killer story written long before the whole glut of them that came out in the wake of Thomas Harris' success.

I read those and then I saw a solo book by Bill Pronzini. Lo and behold, it happened to be the first book in what would become the longest-running detective series in mystery fiction. I had no idea at the time how important that book, The Snatch, and the author, Bill Pronzini, would be to me. The Snatch is good, yes, but it was the seed that grew into the most satisfying series of books I would ever read in my life: The Nameless Detective books by Bill Pronzini.

The hook that Pronzini used was to never name the lead character of The Snatch. I don't believe that he had any inkling how long this character would stay alive. To date there have been over thirty-five novels and a couple of collections of short stories that feature the character.

The ironic thing about The Nameless Detective is, readers have come to know so much about him. And eventually we got to know his first name, which bears a striking similarity to the author of the stories. We learned of Nameless' loves, his fear. What makes him happy and causes him sorrow. Somehow Bill Pronzini has managed to keep this series, which has almost lasted four decades (!), fresh and credible. It seems impossible, but the last Nameless book, Schemers, is one of the most gripping of them all.

Pronzini has alternated the Nameless books with stand-alone novels, and though he is widely known as a mystery writer, Bill has written horror and western fiction too. As with the Nameless series, the other books continue to grow and his skills have grown as the decades have passed. I cannot say the same about a lot of other writers.

My favorite of all Bill Pronzini's books is probably The Crimes of Jordan Wise, which in many ways is atypical of his work. It isn't as hardboiled as the majority of his books, but it has a wonderful setting and some of Bill's best characters.

What makes the fiction of Bill Pronzini so special to me is the sheer humanity in it. The themes in his stories are universal ones. Ones that pertain to not only my life, but everyone's. There is joy and hope, fear and courage, strength and weakness, humor and horror.

Will another writer ever take the place of Bill Pronzini as my favorite? Anything's possible, but it seems highly improbable. It's not likely that any writer can top the joy that Pronzini has given me for the past few decades. Still, we never know what the future will bring. That's the beauty of it.

Halloween at the Raleigh Road Outdoor Theater

2009-11-05T14:04:00.000-08:00

There's a small town in mid-Northern North Carolina called Henderson. It may not seem like much. Just a fly-speck of a town you wouldn't think twice about passing by on the interstate. There's a million more like it out there in Sticksville, USA. Nothing special, right?

Wrong. I had the privilege of meeting some of the townspeople of Henderson on Halloween Night, 2009. But it wasn't just any meeting place. It was at one of the sadly few drive-in theaters in operation today.

Hold it. Allow me to go back in time about eight years. I had heard that there was a drive-in in Henderson called The Raleigh Road Outdoor Theater and one morning I was passing through and I decided to get off of Interstate 1 and see if I could find it. I got lucky. The theater was only abut a mile off the highway and I happened to go the right way. The Raleigh Road Outdoor Theater was standing and in operation, but it looked to be in pretty sore condition. The screen and the fence surrounding it looked to be in disrepair and it looked like the kind of place you wouldn't want to test the food at. Or use the restrooms. I'm sure the people that ran it meant well and did their best, but things looked grim.

Drive-in enthusiast Jim Kopp purchased the theater sometime after that and he and his crew have made enormous restorations. The place is clean and it gives off a welcoming aura. There's a wholesome, nostalgic appearance to the theater. Like something out of our nation's past.

I had been intending to make a trip to the Raleigh Road Outdoor Theater for some time. I was regularly checking the website and reading about the movies and events that the drive-in had to offer. Not content to simply run movies, The Raleigh Road constantly has fun, family-friendly activities and promotions to keep the excitement at a high level. I read that there was going to be a Halloween Costume Contest and a triple feature at the Raleigh Road and I decided it would be the perfect time to take my family. An excellent opportunity to combine my love of both the drive-in and the holiday that celebrates my favorite genre, horror.

We arrived early, but were not the first in line. Enthusiastic families were already ahead of us, with children in costume anxious to enter the theater.

We drove in as the theater opened and after I met the very friendly owner, Jim Kopp. He promised to spend some time with me after the initial chaos died down.

We parked and got a good spot and opened our trunk, for in addition to the costume contest, the theater was having Trunk or Treat before the film. Kids would go from car-to-car and collect treats from the attendees. It was a lot of fun and we saw some cool costumes.

Our own kids, Europa and India dressed up and enjoyed Trunk or Treating, even though both are too really old to indulge in such activities. The drive-in tends to bring out the kid in all of us.

Of course we were all anxious for a deliciously non-nutritious meal, which has always been one of the major draws of the drive-in theater. Our appetites had already been whetted by the smell of the large grill that was cooking burgers and hot dogs outside the concessions stand. And get this: We wisely took advantage of the Family of Four Deal. You get admission for four for three movies, four meals with drinks, and a large tub of popcorn! Now you tell me where you are going to find a deal like that? Only at the drive-in.

The costume contest was fun and our India was a winner with her inspired Evil Circus Ringleader getup. She won a book about the making of Twilight: New Moon. She worked hard on it and we were all proud.

Oh yeah, the movies. You know, although the movies are the principle reason for the existence of the drive-in theater and all drive-in enthusiasts are movie fans, sometimes it seems as if they are secondary to the experience.

People go to drive-ins for various reasons. In my youth we went to party or to get it on with our dates. Now the scene is different. Some don't like the way most drive-ins now play mainstream, family productions, but they might not be aware that drive-in theaters started out as family entertainment. They were an inexpensive way for families to get away and have some fun. There were almost always playgrounds for the kids and The Raleigh Road Outdoor Theater is no exception.

The main reason people come to drive-ins, I think, is to be a part of the community. The good people of the area come out and be together. They socialize, laugh, and have a good time. And many of the people of Henderson are fighting to maintain the close-knit community they share. They fight for it by helping out at the drive-in theater.

Anyway, the movies were Astro Boy, The Addams Family and Couples Retreat. None are exactly my favorite type of fare, with the possible exception of The Addams Family. But I always preferred the actual comics that Chas. Addams had in The New Yorker and other publications.

But the movies aren't the important thing. I can sit through anything at a drive-in. More than sit through it. I'll enjoy just about anything while I'm out there under the stars. And what a perfect night it was on October 31st, 2009. It was neither cold nor warm, but a lovely combination of the two. Being the hot-natured person that I am, I never even put on a longsleeve shirt. And the moon was nearly full.

I liked Astro Boy for what it was. Animation isn't my thing, but I found it to be engaging enough. The kids wanted to see The Addams Family and probably the third feature too, but my wife Tanya was coughing a lot and though she agreed to stay, I felt that it was best to get her home to bed. Truth be told, I wasn't exactly looking forward to the forty-five minute drive back home. My night vision isn't what is used to be.

I never did get to talk much to the owner, Jim Kopp, but I enjoyed our brief time together. Just as I enjoyed talking to the rest of the people that took the time to chat with a stranger. It's the truth, you'll find the best members of the community at the drive-in theater. As far as I'm concerned, the cream of the crop was there. I was disappointed though. While the theater was about a third full, it should have had a full house. I literally think that a lot of locals do not know what they are missing as they sit in their hermetically sealed, self-imposed isolation. I don't care how big their plasma screens are, or how clear their Blu-Ray Player picture is. There is no substitute to watching a movie on that ginormous screen, under the stars, in the company of their neighbors. It was particularly good to see the young people out there enjoying themselves.

So we left after the first feature. Our maiden trip to The Raleigh Road Outdoor Theater was a wonderful Halloween and we know that it won't be our last time there.

All photographs taken at The Raleigh Road Outdoor Theater by India Collier.

The Return of the Horror Comedy?

2009-10-18T14:38:00.000-07:00

The success of Zombieland makes me wonder if the horror/comedy hybrid is on the way back. And I think it might not be such a bad idea.

Horror Comedies were the rage of the 80's and I saw a lot of backlash against it in the horror magazines. "I like my horror straight up" seemed to be a common statement. And I do see their point. At least to some degree. Too much of any one thing leads to tedium.

Yet horror and comedy go together so well. James Whale arguably invented it with both The Bride of Frankenstein and The Old Dark House. Later, comedians Abbott and Costello made a successful run of movies that lampooned the Universal classic monsters. Roger Corman made two delightful horror comedies, The Little Shop of Horrors and A Bucket of Blood.

I've heard people say that the audience laughed during horror movies, but often the laughter is like a pressure relief valve, rather than that of a derisive crowd. People get a vicarious taste of death in a theme park ride and are often terrified. Most will get off the ride laughing their heads off. Fear and laughter aren't as far apart as some might think they are.

Horror and comedy went hand in hand over the years, sometimes unintentionally. Many cheap quickies took on a new life and appeal to audiences that appreciated their camp value. Others played the gallows humor to the hilt.

But it was in the 1980's that horror comedies became the norm. As I said before, many complained, but the best of them, like Night of the Creeps and Evil Dead 2, were almost universally adored.

Of course there were the downside of the trend. Transylvania 6-5000 and Haunted Honeymoon represent the worst of the supposedly funny horror movies.

Even the franchises turned to farce when the filmmakers had nowhere else to turn to keep the ideas fresh. The Nightmare on Elm Street sequels were virtual comedies and Tobe Hooper's Texas Chainsaw Massacre was as well.

There were dozens of humorous horror films in the 80's. Some more successful than others, but most are looked upon with affection today. House, An American Werewolf in London, Motel Hell, Ghostbusters, Creepshow (and its sequel), Gremlins, Fright Night, Vamp, The Lost Boys, Beetlejuice, The 'burbs, Night of the Demons, Bad Taste, Terrorvision and Return of the Living Dead are among my favorites. Heck, I even like those old Troma movies, The Toxic Avenger and Class of Nuke 'em High.

Maybe it is time for a return to funny horror pictures. The torture trend has gotten tedious. Why continue to take that as far as they can? I think the antidote just could be wit.

I fear what may come of it though. While I loved Zombieland, movies like Stan Helsing and Transylmania look absolutely terrible. It didn't work for everyone, but I thought that Jennifer's Body was a perfectly enjoyable horror comedy.

If humor and fear go together so closely, then isn't our love of horror our way of laughing in the face of death? All of us rehearse death and tragedy constantly in what we watch and what we read. Death will surely get the last laugh, but our only hope is to stave it off the best we can. In the only way we can. That's by laughing and trying not to think ahead to the inevitable.

Thanks are in Order

2009-10-05T13:32:00.000-07:00

Nothing great, or even mediocre, is ever done by one's self. I've had a lot of assistance here at Horror Drive-In. A lot of great friends and a lot of talented individuals have been good enough to spend their precious time here. At the board mostly, but I get comments from those that read the reviews and front pages too. I can't even begin to list the names of people that have helped make this site the success it is. Traffic is way up and Horror Drive-In is becoming more influential all the time.

But there are a couple of people that deserve public thanks. If you like this site, they get a ton of credit. If you don't like it, the blame falls on my own shoulders.

The first is Deena Warner. She is incredibly talented and she designed Horror Drive-In. I had the dream, but she made it a reality. She also has put up with my stupidity when it comes to this sort of thing. I'm lost at anything technical that concerns the Internet.

Deena has also been a great friend. I've known her since the old days of Gorezone. Deena participated in the old Dr. Casey's Book Forum, as I did from time to time. When Dr. C. shut his site down, she and others relocated to Gorezone.

I've also had the pleasure of being a friend of Deena and Matt Warner in the real world. They are just about the most perfect couple I've ever known and I treasure our friendship.

We've been experiencing problems with the Fiction and Review sections and I humbly apologize if you have had trouble accessing them. I think we're close to having a permanent fix for them and I owe it to Deena.

The other person I owe thanks to is Mister Andrew Monge. When I was as down as I've ever been in my life and ready to throw in the towel here at Horror Drive-In, he was one of many that convinced me to stick with it. And not only that, Andy has become an integral part of the site. The Fiction Section, which is an enormous part of why HD-I has gotten so much more traffic, is all his baby. I may be the so-called publisher, but he is God, aka: The Editor. He asks my opinions on stories and we mostly agree. Sometimes we don't and the final say is always Andy's.

Plus, Andy is one of the most decent people I've ever met. Inside or outside the horror fiction community. I've never met him in the flesh, but we've spoken on the phone and we've exchanged numerous emails. Andy is a righteous dude. A devoted family man, a truly passionate lover of dark literature and a hard working guy. My kind of person. The world could use a lot more like him.

So folks, give 'em a hand. I literally would not be here without Deena and Andy. Two of my best friends.

The rest of you know who you are. I started making a list of other vital individuals, but it quickly grew too great of a task.

The genre is probably stronger now than it has ever been. New books and movies are coming out at a rapid clip. There are more horror fans and professionals than ever. It's fun to be along for the ride. And I owe it all to you.

Starred Review: Robert McCammon's Mister Slaughter

2009-09-23T13:36:00.000-07:00

I haven't always been the bastion of tact that you see before you. No, I was a snob about a lot of things early on in my life. And horror books were among them. I read science fiction, thank you, and I certainly didn't need that trashy horror in my reading diet.

So it was with that obstinate mindset that I first encountered the name, Robert (R.) McCammon. I was hanging out at an apartment I shared with a few guys. And I had my science fiction books around. I was talking to some girl whose name is long forgotten. She had read some decent books and she made a recommendation to me. It was a big, thick horror novel called They Thirst, by some guy named McCammon.

I'm afraid I was probably pretty rude. I didn't bother to accept it and I doubt that I was very gracious in my refusal to read it.

I was an asshole.

I had no indication that the writer of They Thirst, Robert McCammon, would later become not only one of my favorite writers, but the one I consider to be the very best writer that ever labored in my chosen favorite field of literature.

Fast forward a few years. I had kicked some sense into my own head and realized that I was and, whether I had known it or not, always had been a horror fan. Stephen King and Charles Grant brought me around and my passion for dark fiction was fortified by amazing writers like Peter Straub, Ramsey Campbell, Alan Ryan, T.M. Wright, James Herbert and many others.

I never forgot that cheesy cover to They Thirst, or the author's name. For a while I still dismissed him. Then I read a review of Swan Song in The Twilight Zone Magazine, which at the time was my bible of the genre. Edward Bryant is, to me, the finest reviewer in the genre's history and he gave Swan Song a glowing recommendation. That was enough for me. More than enough, in fact.

I guess you know by now that Swan Song blew me away. It covered some of the same ground as Stephen King's magnum opus, The Stand, but it was no mere imitation. McCammon had his own distinctive literary voice and there was so much heart in the story. From the day I began reading Swan Song, I was a Robert McCammon fan.

Swan Song was a milestone in McCammon's career at that point, but he wasn't about to rest on his laurels. Robert McCammon followed it up with Stinger, which is still one of the most entertaining books I've ever read.

The books continued to get better: The Wolf's Hour, Blue World, Mine. And then McCammon delivered a novel that made its way into more readers' top favorite book slot than any other I know of. It is, of course, Boy's Life. A miracle of imagination and depth, Boy's Life is a magnificent novel of youth and dreams. Though it brings to mind other stories like Something Wicked This Way Comes and Stand By Me/The Body, Boy's Life stands alone. I truly believe that I'll never love a book more than it.

After Boy's Life came Gone South, a book that is drastically different in tone than anything else McCammon had previously done. In fact it reminded me of another southern writer's work: Joe R. Lansdale.

Then, nothing. Robert McCammon became a mystery man in the genre. Where was he? I heard rumors. He had retired. He was writing historical romance. He was fed up with the publishing industry and no longer wanted any part of it.

Possibly there was truth to all of those, but I guess I'll never really know. The one thing I was sure of was this: The absence of Robert McCammon in the genre left a gap that no other writer could fill. For my money Robert McCammon was and is the very best that we have ever known.

Ten long years passed from Gone South to McCammon's next book. I of course never forgot him, but I had practically given up hope that he would return to publishing. So it was with great joy when I learned that a new book was coming at last. 2002 saw the publication of an all-new novel from the master. It was called Speaks the Nightbird and a small outfit called River City Publishing did the hardcover.

I was so excited that I did something that I rarely do: I purchased an Advance Reading Copy prior to the book's publication. I do not endorse the selling of ARCs by booksellers. Most especially when the book in question either hasn't come out or has recently been published. The author gets no royalty from such a sale and only an unscrupulous dealler will sell them. But man, I had to have it. And I definitely purchased a hardcover when they came out. What kind of a guy would I be if I didn't support one of my favorite writers?

Speaks the Nightbird is a historical novel with mildly horrific overtones. Taking place in the late 16th Century, the novel deals with an earnest young legal clerk named Matthew Corbett who accompanies a magistrate to a town to determine whether an accused young woman is or isn't a witch. It's a rich work, that had to have been meticulously researched. It is also one of the best books I read in 2002. Or, to be accurate, my entire life.

If I still considered Boy's Life to be my favorite Robert McCammon book, then I felt that Speaks the Nightbird was probably his best novel.

The news that followed was good. McCammon would continue on with the education and adventures of Young Master Corbett in a series of novel. Good news? Heck, make that the best news the genre had heard in a long time.

The second book in the Corbett series is called The Queen of Bedlam and it is, if anything, even better than Speaks the Nightbird. In this one, McCammon focuses more on criminal behavior of the time, which is now early in the year 1703. He paints a portrait of a syndicate of criminals plotting the course of The New World. The Queen of Bedlam is a thrilling, sweeping saga that firmly established Matthew Corbett as one of the finest literary creations of our time. It ended on a nice, juicy cliffhanger too.

As joyous an occasion that the publication of The Queen of Bedlam was, there was a small dark side. Pocket Books, McCammon's longtime publisher, didn't seem to know how to market it. When they should have given it the major push it deserved, they allowed it to falter. And worse, the hardcover was a major disappointment. It was a cheaply-made volume that resembled one of those old Science Fiction Book Club things. Spit and toilet paper.

Now, with the publication of Mister Slaughter, Robert McCammon has found what I truly hope will a permanent, lucrative home. It's with Subterranean Press.

I've been a reader of Subterranean publications for a long time. They started out sort of like Cemetery Dance Jr., but now Subterranean has evolved into one of the most important publishers of Fantasy, Science Fiction and Horror. At what point can you no longer call a publisher a 'small press'? Subterranean is doing damned nice trade editions that are as inexpensive as most other mainstream hardcovers, but are much more beautiful and sturdy.

Which at last brings me to Mister Slaughter. I was privileged to be able to read an early edition of it prior to publication. And it should be no surprise that it is a real winner.

My only disappointment in Mister Slaughter is that it is not as long as its predecessors. It clocks in at 'only' 440 pages, but Mister Slaughter packs a mean punch. This is the most brutal of the Corbett books so far. For Mister Slaughter himself is what would later be termed a serial killer. Or perhaps a mass murderer. He's intelligent and with cultured manners when he wishes, but Mister Slaughter is meaner and more cold-blooded than Hannibal Lector. And Matthew Corbett is saddled with the job of transporting him from an asylum in Pennsylvania to New York, where he is to be deported to England for a trial.

Corbett continues to mature, but he proves to be all-too-human and is tempted by the wormtongued Slaughter. Corbett and his associate, Hudson Greathouse, alter the course of their journey to New York based on a promise from the killer, which brings on great disaster. Facing the greatest shame of his young life, Matthew Corbett must risk everything dear to him in order to complete his task and deliver Mister Slaughter to justice.

But there's more. Far more. McCammon provides numerous subplots and the criminal conspiracy Corbett encountered in The Queen of Bedlam is still afoot. There's also a sinister bloody fingerprint on a playing card that still holds a dire portent for the young detective. Matthew's relationship with young Berry is further explored and numerous other colorful characters that readers became acquainted with in The Queen of Bedlam are featured in Mister Slaughter.

To sum up this long, rambling piece short, Robert McCammon is back with a new book, a new publisher and the future looks good for him. As well as his readers. Don't pass up Mister Slaughter and if you haven't read Speaks the Nightbird and The Queen of Bedlam, you'd better start reading. Fiction doesn't get any better than these books.

Oh, and one more thing. I eventually did read They Thirst and while I felt it was far from the best work from Mister McCammon, I had a blast with it. They Thirst is a huge, pulpy, rollicking good time.

The Drive-In vs. The Grindhouse

2009-09-14T14:19:00.000-07:00

You hear the city rats raving on about their grindhouse experiences. I'm sure it was nice, but compared to a drive-in theater? You gotta be kidding me!

At a drive-in you had the choice of sitting in the luxury of your own automobile or bringing along a lawn chair. Or you could sit on the hood of the car and keep warm on a cool night from the engine heat.

At a grindhouse you sat in some guy's sperm and piss.

At a drive-in, you could drink and smoke anything you wanted.

You could at a grindhouse too, I suppose, but you can bring in a LOT more beer in your trunk than in your raincoat pockets.

At a drive-in you were under the glorious stars.

At a grindhouse you were in an unhealthy building that probably should have been condemned a long time ago.

At a drive-in you could piss outside you car. If you were in the back row, anyway.

At a grindhouse you had to brave the old pervs that hung out in the men's room looking for a date or maybe a peek at your Johnson.

You could bring your date to a drive-in and at least have the option of having cramped uncomfortable sex.

At a grindhouse I don't think you would have wanted to try that. You might find yourself in an unwelcome Ménage à Trois. Or a gangbang.

At a grindhouse you were at least out of the weather.

Battling the elements was one of the fun things about a drive-in. Rain, wind, even snow and ice storms. I've been through 'em all at drive-ins and it was always a blast.

I admit that that the mosquitoes were often extremely annoying at a drive-in theater.

I'll take them over rats, cockroaches, fleas and lice any day.

The screen at a drive-in is as big as the heavens. The huge movie images against the backdrop of the night horizon is breathtaking. If there is such a thing as paradise on earth, that's it.

There's no way to prove this, but I'd BET that if Tarantino and Rodriguez called their movie, Drive-In, instead of Grindhouse, it wouldn't have been such a flop.

Robert A. Heinlein: Requiem

2009-09-03T15:46:00.000-07:00

I always come back to Heinlein and I always will.

Requiem is a posthumous collection/anthology honoring the great Robert A. Heinlein. It's full of rare stories, essays, speeches and tributes from other luminaries of SF. I never got around to reading it, but I picked up a copy at a library sale last weekend for a dollar. A nice, mint hardcover.

I always carry books in my car. Usually I have the one I'm currently reading, but I forgot to bring His Father's Son with me when I went to the movies yesterday afternoon. I had Requiem with me and I got to the movies about 40 minutes early. I have a pathological fear that I'll be late for things. Traffic, whatever.

I had read the lead story in Requiem before. It's called Requiem and it's such a lovely little tale. Requiem has the old sense of wonder in it, but unlike a lot of stuff that also does, it is mature and deeply moving.

I read Requiem before going into the theater and once again I was moved by it. The story is a sequel to Heinlein's classic novella, The Man Who Sold the Moon. In that one, a man is driven by his love for the stars and builds a business in rocketry. He is successful beyond his wildest dreams, but those dreams turn into nightmares when the stockholders bar him from any space travel of his own. They need their cash cow to keep the profits coming in.

In Requiem, the man, Delos David Harriman, is old, but he has never lost his passion, his desire to touch the stars. Or at least set foot on the moon. He bribes, breaks the law and finagles a way to get there. But the trip is not without its price. A price Harriman is all too happy to pay.

The title, Requiem, describes Harriman's journey and his destination. But it also serves as a testament for Heinlein's own legacy. The author loved the stars his entire life, but he sadly was never able to make the trip his heart craved for. But his dreams, his vision, were instrumental in man's courageous struggle into space.

Most reading at this site are not science fiction fans and I pity them. Pity them for missing out on all the marvelous work out there. But most of all I pity them for missing out on the magnificent career of Robert A. Heinlein, the greatest science fiction writer that ever lived. Admittedly some of RAH's later, post Stranger in a Strange Land, fiction doesn't work for me any more. But his classic writing from the 50's is unparalleled, not only in the field of science fiction, but in all of literature.

A Great Summer at the Movies

2009-08-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

I don't like Summer a bit. I hate the insects, loathe the heat, despise how the neighbors are out cooking themselves and their dinners. And I can't stand Summer Movies.

It's the biggest season for the cinema and all the blockbusters are rolled out in the hot months. And I usually find that I cannot even bear to take a chance on any of them. Lame action, superhero tedium, endless animated family fare, boring eye candy. I much prefer the Fall and early Winter. I don't care for all the Oscar Bait that comes then, but it's preferable to the Summer fare. Last year I couldn't hardly bring myself to see anything and I was grateful when Fall arrived.

This Summer, 2009, has been different. There has been plenty of movies that I at least have been interested in seeing. And for the most part I have had a great time seeing them.

I go to the movies to enjoy myself. It seems that many so-called critics go to them looking for a fight. Just ready to tear into what they see and then gleefully rip it apart for their readers. I'm not saying I like everything, but I can be reasonably easy to please. I don't expect or even want every film to be Bergman or Scorsese. I just want to have a good time.

The season began for me with Sam Raimi's return to horror, Drag Me To Hell. I adored this movie and felt that it managed to be traditional and modern at the same time. A good, old fashioned shock show. Many fans didn't like it and I can't comprehend that.

The Hangover was almost too raunchy and over-the-top for me, but I found myself laughing my ass off during it. This was an enormous success for director Todd (Hated: GG Allin & The Murder Junkies) and it's still making bucks in theaters.

I Love You, Beth Cooper was based on an award-winning novel and it didn't quite get the subversive tone that its source had. But it was sweet and funny and I had a blast watching it.

Moon was a genuine rarity in science fiction films: It's intelligent, original and is based upon ideas. Sam Rockwell is excellent as a man on a lunar base who develops a bizarre identity crisis.

Woody Allen's Whatever Works is far from his best movie, but it's a lot better than some. It breaks no new ground for my favorite director, but it's outrageous and hilarious and makes some pointed observations on life and relationships. And Larry David was splendid as the Woody Allen surrogate.

The Collector wasn't really my cup of tea, but I'll admit that the film does what it set out to do. Disturb and horrify the viewer. This is a modern grindhouse/drive-in exploitation movie.

Orphan was controversial for various reasons, but most fans were won over the by the strong performances and the overall quality of the production. I thought it was terrific.

I had the highest expectations for Judd Apatow's Funny People and it surpassed all of them. A thoroughly entertaining and intelligent comedy-drama from one of the brightest filmmakers of the day. Too bad a lot of people didn't get it.

A Perfect Getaway isn't perfect, but it's stunningly shot and the performances are first rate. A superior thriller that came out of the blue for me.

(500) Days of Summer is on the shortlist of best romantic comedies in history. Sharp, acutely accurate, screamingly funny at times and gut-wrenching at others. A tour-de-force.

O'Horten was made a couple of years ago in Norway, but it was released in The States recently so I'll list it. This is such a refreshingly low key comedy. If only more American filmmakers could approach their films with this kind of subtlty.

At this writing I haven't seen District 9 yet, but I plan to. Hopefully before the week is out. I also haven't seen The Hurt Locker. See what I mean? Too many to choose from.

The season isn't over yet and there is still more to come. Tomorrow I'm seeing Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds and I can't wait. I've enjoyed nearly everything this wild talent has given us to date.

I fully expect to be disappointed with rob Zombie's Halloween 2, but you can bet that I'll be in my seat at the theater for it.

I'm not a fan of the Final Destiantion series, but the new 3D process is amazing and I'll be in line for it too.

Paper Heart is the kind of movie that people call 'quirky'. I hate that term, but it probably applies to this one. It's coming to a nearby theater in a couple of weeks and I'll be ready for it.

I skipped all of the high profile releases, all of which look like cinematic messes to me: Star Trek, Terminator: Salvation, Angels and Demons, Transformers, Night in the Museum 2, Land of the Lost, Bruno, Year One, GI Joe, Harry Potter and the other Rom Coms and animated pap. I'm probably missing out on some decent stuff, but I can live with that. I've had a great time at the movies this Summer.

The Economy and Horror

2009-07-26T07:24:00.000-07:00

It's scary out there. People are losing their jobs, their homes. It seems like government spending is reaching terrifying proportions. Home equities and retirement plans are looking shaky. It's time for most of us to cut back on the luxuries.

I'm lucky. I'm not quite sure that my job is 100% recession proof, but we're busy as hell at work and things are looking good for the future.

A lot of people have a bleaker view of their futures.

I was listening to the radio one morning this week and the lady DJ was advising listeners on how to cut their spending. The topic of reading came up and she said to use the library and to buy books used. It's sound advice and I've been forced by necessity to do it.

But the writers need to survive too. I'm not suggesting that those that are unemployed to spend their precious resources on new books, but most of us can at least afford to buy new paperbacks.

We need our writers and they need us. I literally consider book buying to be as important to me as my monthly bills. I have to have the new titles by my favorite writers and as long as I'm gainfully employed I'll continue to buy them.

It's nice to say that we need to support the local booksellers and I try to do so. But no one can find fault in a reader using Amazon and other discount retailers. Nor can we blame them from buying their Leisure books at WalMart. I don't enjoy supporting the corporations, but the main thing is that the writers get their royalties.

It sucks, but for better or worse the rules of distributors are changing. It's no longer mandatory to buy your books from the local bookseller. Get it online if that is what makes it easier on your bank account.

And electronic fiction is a big option too. It's not for me and it never will be, but for those of you that like it, bless you. It's sales that make the genre stronger.

You can change your habits too. Maybe spend fewer nights drinking beer and more with a book. You can buy a paperback with the cost of a twelve-pack. Instead of greasy, nasty lunches at fast food dumps, brown bag and save money (and your heart).

And I'm not saying that we shouldn't use the library. I do all the time. We'd be fools not to. I'm just suggesting that we mix it up and that we don't forget that the writers have bills too. I'd hate to see my own favorites give it up and go to work at factories.

It's a little different with movies. History tells us that movie ticket sales thrive in dire economic times. People like to escape and movies are a reasonably priced way to do it. My advice is to see the first show of the day, which are generally less crowded and much cheaper than evening shows.

For those facing the terrifying prospect of unemployment and foreclosure, my heart goes out to you and your loved ones.

2009-07-16T13:34:00.001-07:00

This is my favorite comedy in recent years. I held off for a long time after hating many so-called comedy films, but after seeing what Judd Apatow was doing with things like Freaks and Geeks, I took a chance.

And I loved it. So many modern comedies seem like I'm supposed to be laughing at mentally retarded people. Like Napoleon Dynamite. Or I'm supposed to enjoy watching some fucking assholes and get enjoyment out of it. The 40-Year-Old Virgin is genuinely funny, plus it has heart and characters that I like and would enjoy hanging out with.

I like the whole gang: The slick player, the hard-around-the-edge sarcastic party monster, the eternally bitter heartbroken guy and of course the genuinely decent man who never developed the confidence to effectively talk to women.

It's a long movie, especially in the uncut form, but I never want it to end. It's like a long party and I love the way the virgin learns about life and living from his new friends. And also how they learn critical things from him in return.

This is one of the few comedies where I agree with most people. Everyone seems to like it. Bring it up and most will say something like, "I love the hair waxing scene, haha, har har, ho ho". And it [i] is[/i] funny. But I get tired of that scene. I more enjoy the parts where the guys are hanging out, shooting the shit and getting to know one another.

I like Knocked Up too, but not as much. I didn't much care for Knocked Up when I first saw it, but I've come to appreciate the whole Apatow crowd. And the couple in Knocked Up aren't exactly likable in the beginning. They too learn and grow from each other and become fuller, better people.

I had The 40-Year-Old Virgin on the other night. Not really watching it, but more of a background movie while I did stuff around the house. I stopped and sat through some of my favorite scenes though, which are plentiful.

I really, REALLY, can't wait for Funny People. I tell some friends and people I work with that and they act surprised. I hate Adam Sandler! But it's not who acts in a movie, but who wrote it. I've become a huge Judd Apatow fan, despite some of the terrible movies he produces. He knows what the masses like in a comedy and if those other movies I hate help finance thoughtful ones like The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up, I don't begrudge them.

Happy Birthday, Robert A. Heinlein

2009-07-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

If he were still alive, he'd be 102. Robert Anson Heinlein was born on July 7th, 1907. It seems like he should be 102, doesn't it? It would be apt for Heinlein to live as long as Lazarus Long.

Heinlein was my first favorite writer. After moving up from things like Doc Savage books, I discovered Heinlein's books for young people, starting with Have Space Suit, Will Travel. I still adore that book with all my heart. I love them all, but my favorites are it and Farmer in the Sky, Starman Jones, Time for the Stars and Space Cadet.

As I matured I moved on to Heinlein's more mature books. Stranger in a Strange Land was heady stuff for my preteen sensibilities, but I loved it. Time Enough For Love was my favorite of the later books.

And then there were his early books like The Puppet Masters and The Door Into Summer. Both of these are so beautifully written.

The short stories! Who can forget such masterpieces as The Man Who Sold The Moon, Requiem, The Long Watch, "It's Great To Be Back!", Logic of Empire, Misfit and so many others?

I haven't kept up with modern science fiction, but I don't care how good the writers are. None will ever top RAH in my mind. His writing was so personal, so intimate. It felt like I knew him personally and that he was a mentor to me. More than a mentor, a father figure. I learned so much from Heinlein's work. Things that have helped me survive and to maintain what decency I have.

His books, his legacy, shall remain with me always. And I'm gratified that new generations continue to discover him and his work continues to instigate controversy.

By the way, Heinlein's books have had countless printings, but the cover images I've used here are the ones from the editions I originally read. Just seeing them makes me feel like a starstruck kid again. His powerful imagination, his wisdom, his wit and his vision will remain inspirational to me until the day I join him.

Starred Review: Vanilla Ride: A Hap and Leonard Novel by Joe R. Lansdale

2009-07-01T13:03:00.000-07:00

The Dedication to Vanilla Ride reads as such:

For all you Hap and Leonard fans. Bless your little weird hearts.

Who you calling weird, Lansdale?

If that's true, there's a lot of weird people out there. The Hap and Leonard books are among the most universally loved pieces of fiction I've ever known about. I've turned a lot of people on to them and every one has loved them. Every single individual. Even those that either don't read or barely read. They love Hap and Leonard.

I got on board early and I bought Savage Season immediately upon its publication. I was already a huge fan and had been since the first book I read by Joe, which was The Drive-In. I was later blown away by other Lansdale works like The Magic Wagon, Act of Love, Dead in the West and especially Cold in July. But Savage Season was special. Its lead characters captured my heart and it became an instant favorite.

Luckily for Joe's readers, Savage Season was not the last time we would see Hap Collins and Leonard Pine. They returned in Mucho Mojo and again in The Two-Bear Mambo. Over the course of eleven years six Hap and Leonard novels were published. The ones I named as well as Bad Chili, Rumble Tumble and Captains Outrageous. And they also made an appearance or two in short stories.

Then there was a hiatus in which there were no novels coming out about the baddest pair of Texas ne'er do wells since Augustus McCrea and Woodrow Call. Captains Outrageous was released in 2001 and the fans had to wait a long eight years before Hap and Leonard resurfaced. Which they just have, in a new novel called Vanilla Ride.

A new novel and a new publisher. Now Joe is putting out books with the prestigious Alfred A. Knopf Publishing House and it's a suitable home for his awesome skills.

The first question interested parties are likely to ask is, was Vanilla Ride the wait? My answer is, what do you think? Vanilla Ride is everything that Hap and Leonard fans love about the series. It's funny as hell, there's breathtaking action, there's mood and careful attention to the details of the locations in the book. And as always with Lansdale, the characters rise above the simple stereotypes that might at first seem obvious.

The best things is that there is as much introspection and, dare I say it, philosophy in Vanilla Ride as there is violence and bawdy humor. Which is to say there is a great deal of it. The first person narration is always by Hap Collins, who constantly questions his own motives and impulses while his wisecracking exterior masks his inner turmoil.

This one is as tough and hard as any and Hap and Leonard face their deadliest (and sexiest) opponent yet in the enigmatic and beguiling Vanilla Ride.

Joe R. Lansdale has made a habit of bringing past characters back into his stories, much to the delight of his readers. Longtime Lansdale fans will be overjoyed to learn that Jim Bob Luke makes an extended appearance. And this reader holds out hope that we'll get to see Vanilla Ride again.

Hap and Leonard are officially back and it's up to the readers to help ensure that the series will continue. Publishing is a business like any other. If the books make money, more will probably come. Skip the library and don't wait for the paperback with this one. I don't want to wait eight more years for another ripping Hap and Leonard adventure.

A Little Love For The Mummy

2009-06-11T14:51:00.000-07:00

The poor Mummy. He's the red-headed-stepchild of the Universal Monsters. Dracula is sexier and more exotic. Frankenstein is also a reanimated body, but it's more gruesome how he was assembled from various body parts. Plus there's his striking appearance. The Wolf Man is steeped in European legend and he has that feral magnetism. The Invisible Man does those cool tricks, plus he could be standing right next to you and you wouldn't even know it. And the Creature/Gill Man is so damned cool-looking and he gets to chase beautiful women in bikinis to boot.

The Mummy is slow. He looks like a refugee from a rummage sale. He's not really based on legend or any classic literary source. Even though he was almost definitely inspired by Stoker's The Jewel of Seven Stars with a little bit of Arthur Conan Doyle's Lot Number 249 on the side.

But the most heinous indignity upon The Mummy is undoubtedly those ridiculous movies with Brendan Fraser. Those things only serve to fatten corrupt Hollywood swine and cheapen the memory of old Im Ho-Tep. The Mummy is like Rodney Dangerfield. Neither of them get any respect.

Except from me and other dinosaurs that love the old movies.

I always loved The Mummy. Simply because he is slow doesn't make him any less creepy. I remember as a kid, watching him drag that one leg. I remember shuddering like it was yesterday. I loved the Egyptian setting of the movie and how The Mummy is at least inspired by historical fact.

Despite how cool and awesome The Mummy is, he never got the motion picture deals that the others did. And I'm purposefully forgetting those recent abominations. The Mummy, made in 1932, did inspire several sequels. The Mummy's Hand, The Mummy's Tomb, The Mummy's Ghost and The Mummy's Curse all followed it, as did the obligatory Abbott and Costello farce. But The Mummy never got the superstardom that Dracula, The Wolf Man and Frankenstein enjoyed, with sequels, quasi-remakes and knock-offs continuing for decades to follow the classic monster years.

The Mummy did make cinematic appearances later. Hammer Studios did The Mummy in 1959, but it was one of their lesser Universal remakes. They attempted to make the monster scarier by making him faster, but it had the opposite effect on me. The same studio did a few unrelated and uninspired sequels, which do not rank among their better efforts.

Charlton Heston went up against a Mummy in 1980's The Awakening, but it induced more yawns than chills. The Mummy made an appearance in the much-beloved The Monster Squad, but he had a small part and was dispatched quickly. He was played for outrage and humor in Joe R. Lansdale's Bubba H0-Tep, which is probably the best Mummy movie since the very first one back in 1932.

Of course there have been numerous low budget Mummy movies over the years and few are worth mention.

And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention those wild Aztec Mummy movies with Ramón Ga, but they are a genre unto themselves.

The Mummy hasn't had the greatest history in literature either. In fact I'm having a difficult time coming up with any, with the exception of Anne Rice's book, which makes the Stephen Sommers movies look good. A Mummy appeared in Randall Boyll's amazing Mongster, but that was mainly for ghoulish laughs. Charles L. Grant did write a lovely homage to The Mummy called The Long Night of the Grave. But there are few others.

In fact, I'd like to see one of today's horror fictions stars give us a big, fat monster of a Mummy novel. Maybe since Edward Lee is taking a stab at classic monsters, he will give it a try. I bet Brian Keene could deal out a whopper of one too. Or Ronald Kelly.

I'm sure I'm forgetting some great books, probably by my favorite authors. Movies too. If you can think of any, drop by the forum and let me know.

In the meantime, lets raise our glasses in toast to one of the greatest monsters in Horror. The Mummy.

Drag Yourself To Hell

2009-05-24T05:26:00.000-07:00

You come to this site because you're a horror fan, right? Maybe there are a few people here for reasons of curiosity, but Horror Drive-In is obviously a horror website. Maybe we lean a bit more toward fiction than film, but I love both of them. And I believe that the majority of the visitors here are the same.

I bet you love the Evil Dead movies? I know that I do. Even though I was initially disappointed in Army of Darkness, I've come to enjoy it. How often have we wished, prayed, that Raimi would return to his horror roots? I have. I know the man has seen unprecedented success with his Spider Man franchise, but I got sick of those movies very quickly. Like right after the first one.

I've already heard so-called horror fans criticizing Drag Me To Hell. With all the righteous indignation of ignorance. "It looks like more of the same thing", is a common one.

I'll admit that Drag Me To Hell doesn't appear to be a blazingly original story. But as we all should know, trailers can be misleading as hell. The movie looks to be an old fashioned, EC-type horror yarn. And what, exactly, is wrong with that? Personally, I don't require all horror movies to be like Martyrs. Ones that shock me and profoundly change the way I look at the genre. We need movies like that. But sometimes I simply like a good, fun time at the movies.

Another big complaint is that Drag Me To Hell doesn't have a hard R rating. Again, so what? What's wrong with a movie that kids can get into? Remember when you were young and you went to a scary movie that had less than an R rating and you had the time of your life? Drag Me To Hell could be that movie for thousands and thousands of burgeoning fans. The horror viewers, readers, of tomorrow. Hopefully this movie will reach the ones that are too hip for Twilight, yet are looking for a good scare.

They say that if you don't vote, you have no right to bitch about the way things are in politics and society. The same thing applies here. If you call yourself a horror fan and don't see Drag Me To Hell, don't gripe to me about how Hollywood movies suck. If we don't get out and speak with our dollars, we deserve all the remakes that are shoved down our throats.

Maybe Drag Me To Hell will suck. No one can say for sure until they actually see it. And please don't be a lemming and believe the negative hype that will almost surely be flying. Do you have a mind of your own? Do you always agree with the masses? I most assuredly do not.

You call yourself a horror fan. Prove it. Get out on opening weekend and see Drag Me To Hell. A matinee won't cost you that much. This is Sam Raimi's return to horror, for God's sake! Let's do our parts and make this movie a success.

Sick of Zombies Yet?

2009-05-10T14:19:00.000-07:00

I am. I have been for quite some time. They won't stay dead, in other words. I hate it when a once-cool subgenre becomes a glut. Remember vampires? Evil children? Indian burial grounds? Serial killers?

All of those were a lot of fun until a huge success or two got imitators running to follow up. And now it seems as if vampires are biting their way back into the forefront, no thanks whatsoever to Stephanie Meyer and her legion of teenage devotees.

I was in Borders today, looking over the Horror Section. I saw, along with the big names, a lot of vampire stuff, a ton of mostly small press zombie books. One had the striking title, Jailbait Zombie. I even saw a zombie pop-up book.

Brian Keene and the phenomenal success of The Rising is partially to blame, but you know what? He could write zombie novel after zombie novel and I have no doubt that the books would sell. Probably better than his other books do. But he at least continues to try to grow and challenge himself by trying new things.

The genre expands and then, not unlike the hoards of cannibalistic walking dead, eats itself. We all know that a drought follows a glut.

Please writers, give the zombies a break. For your readers' sake and also for the sake of your own careers. In the long run, I don't think you really want to be pigeonholed as a "Zombie Author".

1989

2009-04-25T05:12:00.000-07:00

I take tours through my past with the movies I watched. Books too, and music, but there's something about movies that make me extra nostalgic. Maybe it's the communal nature of watching them.

1989 was the end of the 80's. The end of innocence. Not to the world in whole; that has never been innocent. My innocence. Though I came up in the 70's, I feel a greater affinity to the 1980's.

It was the last gasp of the home video hysteria. Fewer were having movie parties. In the mid 80's, it seemed like everyone was having them. The VHS revolution had still been fresh. In time it was apparent who the faddists were and who were the genuine lovers of cinema.

Researching this, I see that I was becoming more selective in my viewing. I wasn't renting as many crappy direct-to-video productions with catchy titles. I was weaning off of a lot of studio fare as well. Looking over this list, I'm almost shocked to see that to date I have never watched some sequels of movies I loved, like Fletch and Ghostbusters. I couldn't gather any enthusiasm over them.

Not to say I didn't watch my share of turkey's as this will prove. Still, for various reasons I liked everything I put here. Even while I cringe at the memory of things like Martians Go Home, Star Trek 5 and C.H.U.D. 2: Bud the C.H.U.D. As bad as these movies are, I had a good time roasting them with friends in joyous pre-MST3K abandon.

Horror wasn't exactly healthy. This was the end of the Decade of Fear and few really good movies were released. The old standbys franchises were in need of serious overhauls: Friday the 13th 8: Jason Takes Manhattan, Halloween 5 and Nightmare On Elm Street 5 are arguably the worst of their respective series'. Craven tried to score another Freddy with Shocker, to the dismay of almost everyone. But Pet Semetery was a good adaptation of King's novel and was a financial success. Scott Speigel's Intruder and Cutting Class came in a little too late to cash in on the slasher wave. The cerebral Exorcist 3 was an amazing movie, but it failed to please those that wanted more flying pea soup. J.R. Bookwalter and Tony Elwood's Killer anticipated the underground movie frenzy that would come just a few years later.

Though I loved many movies of 1980, it was a weaker year than any other of the 80's. Moviegoers were in need of a change, which would come about shortly. But I have some true favorites, with Great Balls of Fire, Scenes From the Class Struggle in Beverly Hills, Santa Sangre and Crimes and Misdemeanors at the top of my list.

Everything changed in the 90's and I'll be back to chronicle them. Just don't expect it too soon. It's a lot of work to compile these lists and while I tried to be as complete as possible, I'm certain that I overlooked certain gems.

Without further ado...

The Abyss
A Nightmare on Elm Street: The Dream Child
After Midnight
Aisles of Doom
Assault of the Party Nerds
Back Street Jane
Back to the Future 2
Batman
Baxter
Beverly Hills Vamp
Beyond the Door III
Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure*
Black Rain
Black Rainbow
Blaze*
Blind Fury
Bloodfist
Blue Steel
Born on the Fourth of July
Breaking In
Brothers in Arms
The 'burbs*
C.H.U.D. II - Bud the Chud
Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death
Casualties of War
Cat Chaser
Chances Are
Chattahoochee
Christmas Vacation
Communion
Crimes and Misdemeanors*
Cutting Class
Cyborg
Dead Bang
Dead Calm
The Dead Next Door
Dead Poets Society
DeepStar Six
Disorganized Crime
Dream a Little Dream
Drugstore Cowboy
Edge of Sanity
The Exorcist III
Field of Dreams
Gnaw: Food of the Gods 2
Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan
Great Balls of Fire!*
Gross Anatomy
Halloween 5
Headhunter
Heavy Petting
Hell High
Hollywood Boulevard II*
The Horror Show
I, Madman
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Intruder
Johnny Handsome
Kickboxer
Killer
Kinjite: Forbidden Subjects
Last Exit to Brooklyn*
Leningrad Cowboys Go America*
Lisa
Lock Up
Martians Go Home
Masque of the Red Death
Meet the Feebles
Mystery Train
New York Stories
No Such Thing As Gravity
Out of the Dark
Parenthood
Parents
Penn & Teller Get Killed*
Pet Sematary
The Phantom of the Opera
Psycho Cop
The Punisher
Puppetmaster
Red Scorpion
Relentless
The Return of Swamp Thing
Road House
Rude Awakening
Santa Sangre*
Savage Beach
Say Anything... *
Scenes from the Class Struggle in Beverly Hills*
Sea of Love
Shocker
Sleepaway Camp III: Teenage Wasteland
Society
Sonny Boy*
Star Trek V: The Final Frontier
Stepfather II
Stripped to Kill II: Live Girls
The Terror Within
Think Big
True Believer
Twister
UHF*
The Unbelievable Truth*
Uncle Buck
Vice Academy
Warlock

Starlog Magazine Ceases Publication

2009-04-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

You might have already heard that the venerable science fiction media magazine, Starlog, has shut down its print magazine. The word is that this is a temporary situation and I hope that is true. Even though I've never purchased a copy of it, or for that matter, I've never held a copy of Starlog in my hands.

It makes me sad though, because the name, Starlog, brings me great nostalgia. The Starlog Group was and is the publisher of Fangoria, a magazine I've always loved.

Not so much now though. I guess I'm getting to be an old bastard, but the horror movie world no longer seems like home to me. Oh, I still adore scary movies, but for the most part I watch the older ones. The new fans and community seem alien to me. But that's for another column.

It's always sad when something as old as Starlog dies. The magazine began publishing in 1976. Created by periodical visionaries Kerry O'Quinn and Norman Jacobs, the premier issue featured Star Trek on its cover. It successfully ran for over three decades.

Starlog will continue as an online publication, but we all know that's not the same thing. E-Books, online magazines, etc be damned. There's nothing like holding the genuine article in your hands.

And you don't have to remind me that I publish fiction electronically here at Horror Drive-In. I know it's a half-assed way to do it. But for the time being at least, it's the only way I can get certain stories and authors out to the world.

As I previously noted, I've never been a Starlog reader, but the same thing could happen to any genre magazine. Fangoria, Rue Morgue, Video Watchdog, Shock Cinema, Videoscope and yes, even Cemetery Dance. Look back to demised treasures like The Twilight Zone Magazine, Cinefantastique, Film Threat Video Guide, Psychotronic. The cool little horror fiction magazine out there are struggling or dying.

There's only one way to prevent this: Subscribe. Subscribers are the lifeblood of magazines. Advertisers are critical, yes, but without subscribers there are no advertisers.

Don't let print magazines die in this plasticized, homogenized planet. We don't want to be stuck with Premier or Entertainment Weakly and their clones. Or getting all of our needs from the unhealthy light of these computers.

The Best Father Ever

2009-04-10T12:53:00.000-07:00

India has been here with me for Spring Break all week. It's been a bittersweet occasion for me. It's always wonderful to see her, but I haven't really seen her much at all.

I was looking forward to having company on the trip back from NC to VA last Sunday, but she slept the entire time. We got here and she immediately wanted to go spend the night with her best friend. I hated it, but I'm not such an old fossil that I don't know how important friends are to teenagers.

I desperately wished I could have taken off more this week, but I have no vacation time and I need my full week's pay. Plus I'm working long days. I'm out the door at 5:30 AM and I'm not home until after 5 PM. So India ended up spending the nights with her friend from Sunday to Wednesday night.

I wanted her home, but if I insisted I would lose my 'Cool Dad' status. And we are cool parents. Tanya and I have taken the kids to rock shows and horror conventions. We like cool music and movies and things and we turn the kids on to wild stuff that they aren't likely to find anywhere else. India says her friends are jealous.

But I have off Fridays and I was stoked about last night. We were going to hit our favorite drive-in restaurant for cheeseburgers and fries and I wanted to take a long walk with her. That's one thing she and I always have done together.

I picked her up at around 4:30 yesterday afternoon and took her to the house, where she promptly went to sleep and she slept until 7:00 this morning. Obviously she and her friend weren't doing a lot of sleeping.

But today we'd walk and get breakfast and do some shopping! Walking was out however. Both India and I are allergic to pollen and the season is on us. We did have breakfast and went to some stores. I bought India a couple of books and a CD.

We came here and she wanted to go back to her friend's house. I know that I looked disappointed and India hugged me, but still wanted to go. I allowed her. Before she left she said I was the best father ever. I smiled and asked what made me so good (I was feeling sorry for myself). She said, For all the love, for the humor, for always being there, for providing and perhaps most of all, for teaching her to love books. India adores reading and most of her friends don't. She feels sorry for them.

I'm so happy that I've been able to pass on the legacy of reading to my kids. Europa loves to read too. I'm grateful that I've been able to pass on the wonder, the passion, the marvels of the printed word.

I'm lonely for India and I wish we were spending more time together, but you have to let teenagers be teenagers. Their friends are so important to them. It hurts, but it's natural.

Tomorrow I'll be driving India back to Raleigh and there's no doubt in my mind that she'll sleep during the entire trip. All I can do is sadly chuckle.

Note: I assume that everyone here is familiar with my situation and that's almost certainly wrong. For the curious, India is my stepdaughter. I met her mother at DragonCon '99 and we were married the following year. We had a tragic separation in early November 2008 and they moved to another state. We're now working toward a reconciliation.

April: An Outstanding Month for Leisure Horror

2009-03-27T07:55:00.000-07:00

I'm glad that Leisure is using a lot of newer talent with its horror line, but I'm even more grateful that they continue to bring us the living legends of the genre. And April's releases are Bestial, by Ray Garton and The Golem, by Edward Lee.

Ray has been publishing in the genre for just about as long as I've been reading it. Like many of his older fans, I first discovered Ray with his landmark vampire novel, Live Girls. I went back and found darklings and Seductions, both of which are excellent.

There are some horror writers that have achieved greater fame than Ray Garton, but I'll hold up the consistent level of quality in his work with the very best of them. Ray's fiction can be traditional or radical or anywhere in between. Ravenous, which is the werewolf novel that preceded Bestial, was a more traditional tale from Ray. It reminded me of a good 80's horror novel. Which is never a bad thing.

I started reading Edward Lee somewhat late in the game. The first one I bought was Creekers, but I was instantly a fan after reading it. Ray's unique brand of high-octane sex and violence-drenched fiction is without peer. Many have tried to ape his style, but few or none have his solid storytelling chops. And it would be a mistake to simply call Lee a grossout writer. He tells a walloping story every time he writes a novel or short piece of fiction. The man is a pro at the writing game.

Two legends of the genre, both available at affordable prices. Don't miss them.

The Importance of Music

2009-03-18T14:18:00.000-07:00

McCammon talks about it in Boy's Life. How music helps to keep the magic of youth alive. How important it is to listen to new, young music. I try to adhere to that.

So many adults I know seem to have lost the passion for music that they once had. Maybe a lot of them never really had any passion in the first place. And I find that to be very sad.

I know so many people that live with their television sets on constantly. Never listening to music at home. Or if they do it's just generic radio or perhaps the music they loved when they were teens. That's fine. I still adore my teenage favorites: Todd Rundgren, Frank Zappa and The Tubes are probably the most predominant of them.

Times change and music evolves. Or, as the corporations continue to ruin any true creativity in the industry, it devolves. But it's a mistake to think that all new music is terrible. Even if your local 'modern rock' station may make you feel that way.

My tastes mutated as the years went on. I tried a lot of things and while I might have disliked a lot of it, I found miracles of melody too.

And many songs or albums take me back to great times of my life. I remember riding around with my best friends, listening to the Tubes obsessively. Discussing the meaning of the songs with the kind of intense passion that only geeky teens that are desperate to get laid and have a little buzz can do. I listen to White Punks on Dope or Talk To Ya Later (to name a couple of the more popular Tubes songs) and I think of hot, listless nights. in the late 70's and early 80's.

Recently my wife and I separated, but we later had a reconciliation. When I was visiting her and rebuilding the love, I bought a CD of David Byrne and Brian Eno's Everything That Will Happen Will Happen today. Not a great album by any means, but I played it this morning and the happiness that I felt when I was first hearing it came back in a rush. I know that this album will always have a deep resonance with me.

Or like hearing Oingo Boingo constantly as I drank furiously after working so much overtime in my new career as a machinist. Those songs by the band will always bring back that vital time when I was changing myself.

The list goes on and I will always try to keep it fresh. I think the heart demands music and part of us dies when we stop feeding it.

I'll always love my old favorites, but I keep trying new things. A recent obsession of mine is a young band called Miniature Tigers. They are supposedly an 'alternative' band, but whatever that label once might have meant is meaningless now. To me, Miniature Tigers is a pop band, but not like the miserable excuses for pop that make the top 40. The Tigers do smart, melodic songs that may not be great or brilliant, but damn if they aren't infectious. I've been listening to them so much for the last month. And these songs off of their TELL IT TO THE VOLCANO album will always make me think of these insane but wonderful times in my life.

In the past year or so I've enjoyed newer groups like Arcade Fire, My Morning Jacket, The Shins, Golgol Bordello and even that lovable little goofball, Bo Burnham.

You can fight your body's inevitable aging by exercising and maintaining a sensible diet. And you can keep your heart young with music.

I Buy Books

2009-03-01T15:22:00.001-08:00

I buy books. It's what I do. It's what I've always done. I do not intend to stop until the bitter end.

As far back as I could remember, I loved books. It began with Golden Books when I was a toddler. I was in love with them. I went on to Dr. Seuss and other children's literature and comic books. From there I moved on to science fiction and pulp reprints and media tie-ins.

You'll hear me bemoan my financial situation and I still buy books. I get behind on my bills and I buy books. When I was a kid, in middle school, I would starve myself and skip lunch when I had the will power. Two days of sacrifice and I could afford a Doc Savage paperback, or maybe a science fiction book. My mother would have been pissed had she known, but as far as I was concerned it was none of her business. As a parent I vowed that if my kids wanted to read, I would always provide them with books. Thankfully they do love it. I think it helped that I have taken them to conventions and signings where they've met authors.

I've cut back on the expensive limited editions. I do consider myself a collector, but I'm a reader first and foremost. But I did buy two Ronald Kelly books from Cemetery Dance recently. As usual, CD had a special offer with them that made them much more affordable than the average limited.

I've slowed down on all my book purchases, in fact. It's not like the early days of Shocklines when so many in the community seemed to have some sort of feverish dementia about purchasing small press editions.

I still buy on a weekly basis though. This week I bought the Leisure paperback of Richard Laymon's Dark Mountain and the Delirium trade paperback of New Dark Voices 2.

You've heard the cliche where someone impulse shops to help their depression? It's a little like that for me. Very little gives me as much joy as going out to a bookstore and making a purchase.

I know that the economy is in rough shape and that a lot of people are hurting. But if we love the genre. Worship at the alter of the printed word, as I like to call it, we've got to show our support at the source. That means buying the books. If a writer you like has a new publication out, it really helps to make that purchase within the first week that it's out. And the small press publishers really need our support the most. We all have our favorites and in order for them to survive and continue to bring us these lovely books, we need to at least occasionally patronize them.

The Day Rock and Roll Died

2009-02-11T14:33:00.000-08:00

Calling all you cornfed dames
Lux means bucks, remember the name!
Go put on something real loud
Let's get up and go get plowed!

Lux Interior passed away almost one week ago. I'm still numb from the shocking news. We've lost a lot of greats in recent memory. Heck, it never stops. Death never lets his scythe rest for very long. The most recent loss was Forrest J. Ackerman. That was painful, but we all knew for a few years now that it was only a matter of time. He lasted longer than many of us thought he would.

But the news of Lux Interior, the lead singer for the venerable band, The Cramps, was shocking and completely unexpected. I took it like a kick in my gut and I still can't quite grasp it.

There's nothing on the radio when you're dead
There's nothing at the movie show when you're dead
There's nowhere else for you to go when you're dead
So do the dead; the surfin' dead

I began listening to The Cramps in the early 1990's. I bought a copy of Stay Sick in the bargain section of a music store and I went home and listened to it. I thought it was pretty funny, but largely I was less than overwhelmed. But I kept going back to that album and it began to grow on me. More and more I listened to The Cramps and I increasingly became convinced that they were the greatest rock and roll band of all time.

Rock and Roll. Has there ever been a term more misinterpreted than that? So much has been called Rock and Roll, from that generic Neil Sedaka crap to corporate controlled modern rock of today. There's very little genuine rock and roll out there. Rest assured, The Cramps were the real deal. Raw, unbridled, unfettered, untamed and more than a little bit scary. Simply put, The Cramps music is befitting for hardcore music lovers who have a knack for music. Those who are into pop-rock or say, activities such as bingo are better off trying other music.

The Cramps sang about the vital elements of trash culture. Sex, cars, sex, monsters, sex, drugs and still more sex. Their music throbbed with sexuality, as did their entire stage presence. For what is rock and roll but the beat to screw to? Trust me, you haven't experienced rock and roll until you've beheld Lux doing his deranged version of Surfin' Bird.

Another misrepresentation of The Cramps is that they were a punk band. Yes, they were there alongside the original punk bands in CBGB and Max's Kansas City in NYC in the 1970's and it's natural to lump them with that scene, but the roots of The Cramps were always in rock and roll and yes, even country. Hillbilly music. Greaser ballads.

The Cramps were and are the perfect drive-in band. Their music is filled with references to classic (and not-so-classic) horror and exploitation movies.

Imitators of The Cramps have come and gone, by the hundreds. Some are good and others aren't so good. People often try to tell me that I will definitely love this or that group, because they sound like The Cramps. In nearly all these cases I am acutely disappointed. I'm not so much a rockabilly fan as a fanatic of the music of The Cramps.

Most fans of The Cramps think that the band's early music is their best and that they started to go bad with A Date With Elvis. Once again I am in the minority in that I always thought that the first album kinda sucked. It had cool attitude and some rocking beats, but I hated that untalented Bryan Gregory guy on guitar. I think that they really came into their own with A Date With Elvis and that all of their albums after it are fucking brilliant.

And the best thing about Lux Interior is, he never gave an inch. No compromise whatsoever from his warped, perverted rock and roll vision. The band had numerous legal battles with record companies and for periods of time they couldn't even record music, but they eventually gained all the copyrights for their music and had their own label. If anything, the band got weirder and more outlandish as time went on. You only have to look at the cover of their final album, Fiends of Dope Island, to see that.

It's been almost a week since I heard the shocking news that Lux Interior had died. Part of me died when I heard it. Discovering The Cramps was such a liberating thing for me. The music quite literally changed my life and everything about it.

A lot of people are mourning the loss of Lux and that's cool. But I wonder how many have kept up with The Cramps over the years. How many actually bought Fiends of Dope Island. If you're reading this and you did, Elvis Bless You.

Since I heard the tragic news, I've had nothing but The Cramps in my player at home. I have no desire to hear anything else. I have no CD player in my car and on a road trip last weekend, I was trying to listen to the radio and everything I heard sounded so lame. So lacking in guts and passion. So weak and uninspired. The music of The Cramps is a celebration of life and its glorious excesses. And though they sound nothing like anything from Motown, I consider them a soul group. For the music is so genuine and so honest.

You may have known him as The Goo-Goo Muck. Maybe Thee Most Exulted Potentate of Love. Or possibly as Elvis Fucking Christ. Maybe as The Creature From The Black Leather Lagoon or an It Thing Hard On. Lux Interior had many guises and he was brilliant in them all. But now he's gone and music will never recover. As a friend of mine said, "Rock and Roll really is dead now".

I hope you aren't resting in peace, Lux. I hope you're raising hell and the happy face fucks around you are pissing their pants. Even the Devil would get dizzy trying to keep up with you.

Now let's raise a glass or whatever your pleasure may be and salute the man and the band. And we'll mourn the passing of one of the last true rock and rollers.

Lets get fucked up - The Cramps

Oh and finally, my heart goes out to Poison Ivy Rorschach. It's pure hell to lose a life partner, especially when one was as relatively young as Lux was. Hey, if any of you have been interested in checking out The Cramps or filling in the holes in your collection, or perhaps replacing those old worn out vinyl and cassettes, now would be a good time. I'm sure that she could use the support. Death, as we all know, is not only painful, but expensive.