Help Keep the Drive-In Open
Wednesday, November 18. 2015

And just in time for Thanksgiving, which was always a great time to be a Mystery Science Theater 3000 fan.

MST3K will officially be back. Unless you've been living under a rock, you know that Mystery Science Theater 3000 creator, Joel Hodgson, has launched a Kickstarter campaign to bring back the beloved show. He has already brought in over two million dollars, which is enough to produce three episodes. Hopefully fans will help him reach his stretch goal of five-and-a-half million dollars, which will cover a full twelve shows.

I'm on board, and I feel that every true blue fan who can afford to do so should be as well. This is the perfect vehicle for crowdfunding. A show that is treasured by fans, but was canceled by the suits at the networks.

I fell in love with the show early on. My passion for trash cinema coupled with my abiding affection for wit made Mystery Science Theater 3000 a natural for me.

Any crowdfunding venture is a risk. Will they take our money and run? I don't think that is a worry with Joel. More importantly, will the new incantation only soil the memory of the show so many of us adore?

MST3K was canceled by Comedy Central, and brought back by the Sci Fi Network in the late 90's. The movie riffs were still funny, but the host segments were atrocious. I missed The Mads.

It's worrisome that a new host and cast will be used in the future shows. It isn't necessarily a bad thing. Many fans were in an uproar when Joel stepped down and Mike Nelson took over the reins as the hapless captive of The Satellite of Love. Most people came to love Mike as much as Joel. If not even more so. I'm not on Team Mike or Team Joel. I like them both. On the other hand, I have never quite warmed to Bill Corbett as Crow.

The proposed new host will be Jonah Ray, who is a host on The Nerdist, whatever the hell that is. I personally folded up and put away my Geek Flag quite a while ago. Today's breed of nerd brings me no joy. Especially in the light of things like Gamergate and all those pathetic award puppies.

Still, I have an open mind and I am enthusiastically following and applauding the success of the Kickstarter campaign. I derived so much pleasure from Joel's odd little TV show that I feel I owe him. I'm in for a tee shirt and a download of the first show.

Sometimes this stuff works. Ash Vs Evil Dead is pleasing most of the fans of the old Evil Dead movies.
So, please, if the old show made you smile. Helped you forget your troubles every week. Please be a part of this. At a time when people are angry, scared, self-righteous, we need Mystery Science Theater 3000 more than ever. Join us, won't you?

Sunday, November 1. 2015

Morbid thoughts on a gloomy, grey, first of November...

Another Halloween has come and gone, and it was as anticlimactic as usual. I think about what I did on the day, and the things I could have, should have, done.

It makes me wonder how many more Halloweens I will see. I'm not that old at age fifty-four, but I'm not young either. It's an age when you start too see your contemporaries die. Some are no surprises as they killed themselves with booze, drugs, smoking, bad eating habits, or other destructive means. Others are grim surprises.

What will be the last book I read to completion? What will be the final movie I pay to see in a theater? What will be the last part I manufacture as a machinist? When will be the last time I climb the lookout tower at the local nature park and gaze at the wetlands below? When will be the last time I have the simple pleasure of sharing a pizza pie with someone?

It's not too healthy to obsess on such things. Solitude can do that to you. Make you gaze into the abyss and feel the horror.

I believe that I have many years left, but no one knows for sure about that one. Do we? No sir. Death comes calling in its own time.

I want, need, to make the time count from now on. It's bad enough that I have to be imprisoned in a machine shop so much, so I want to make better decisions from now on.

The biggest is how I need to focus on living sane and sober. Most addicts of drugs and alcohol will tell you that they do it because they like the buzz so much. It's probably true in some cases, but I think most do so to hide from others and from themselves. A blinding, blurring cloak of inebriation keeps one from confronting the demons. It also prevents us from conquering them.

I've been on and off the booze so many times. Last night I drank quite a bit. I feel physically all right today, but I feel spiritually bankrupt. I feel like it was a wasted day and night. I don't want to blow any more of my weekends.

Also, I need to avoid people who bring me down in any way. Old friends or not. Again, I have to put up with negativity and aggression at work. On my time, I don't need it. I want people in my life to lift me up, as I hope to do the same in return. I've done the negativity thing. Oh yes. I've specialized in it. It's a dead end road.

I want to read things that bring me happiness. If I'm not enjoying it, I'm done. I don't care if it's a friend or a beloved writer. If I don't like it, I'll say so if asked if it comes up in conversation. Not in a hateful way, but with honesty.

I've been spending fewer hours at the computer. The forum here is still going strong, but it's not nearly as busy as it has been in the past. I'm coming up on time to renew, and I will do so again this year, I think. Part of me, a big part in fact, would like to chuck it all. The idea of it is liberating, but there are a few people who like the boards and rely on them as part of their routines. We're all struggling to get through this life as sanely as we can, and if this site helps some people, well, then I am accomplishing something here.

I can't complain. I have a job and my bills are current. Great books are coming out all the time. I have my health and I walk and exercise as much as I can. I just need to make better life choices.

Tuesday, October 20. 2015

You, the debut novel by Caroline Kepnes, is a disturbing and engrossing piece of fiction. It's a study of obsession, lust, and murderous rage in the modern age of social media. In it, a man stalks and woos a woman he met in a bookstore. He obtains her name from her credit card, and in no time he knows everything he needs to know about her. He wastes no time in launching his campaign to own her. Well, what did she expect?

Wait. Before the PC Posse breaks out the tar and feathers and comes for me, please allow me to elaborate. I'm not claiming that the woman "deserved what she got". What I am saying is, everyone--man or woman, old or young--takes a chance of getting unwelcome attention when they put their entire lives on display on the social media platforms.

You is written in an uncomfortably intimate second-person narrative from the perspective of the stalker. The entire novel is a long-running imaginary conversation with the "You" in question, which happens to be the woman he has fixated upon. He will do anything to possess her, and woe betide the friends, competitors, or anyone else who gets in the way of his quest.

The really distressing thing about You is how the book is so initially repugnant, but also how the reader begins to relate to the narrator. We kind of want him to succeed. Reading this white-knuckle novel is kind of like a literary Stockholm Syndrome.

You is also a satire of the hipster age we live in. It mercilessly skewers the hipper-than-thou people we so love to hate. Those who name-drop "cool" artists, filmmakers, authors, when they all-too-often are woefully ignorant of the subjects. Lazy fauz intellectuals who are too aloof to feel genuine passion about anything. The kind of people who express their emotions and feelings through hashtags.

You is always gripping, occasionally hilarious, ghastly, and even a little bit touching. In a sickening sort of way. It's easily one of the best books I have read in 2015. I'm counting the days until the sequel, entitled Hidden Bodies, is published.
Wednesday, October 14. 2015

When I first began reading horror fiction in a serious way, there were several writers who came highly recommended. Most of these were, at first, brought to my attention from Stephen King. Later, when I began reading things like The Twilight Zone Magazine and The Horror Show, I started getting recommendations from various sources.

The essential names were writers like Peter Straub, Charles L. Grant, Ramsey Campbell, Dennis Etchison, Michael McDowell, T. E.D. Klein. Another important name was T.M. Wright.

T.M. Wright had published a number of books by 1984, but that is when I first read him. It was a novel called A Manhattan Ghost Story. This book was unlike anything I was reading at the time. It is unlike anything I had read before or since. Wright's approach is literary, surreal, suggestive rather than graphic, and incredibly mature by most standards of the genre. I quickly read others by him, like Strange Seed and The Playground.

T.M. Wright became one of the writers whose work I never missed. By the late 90's, however, there was little to be found by him, and then he had a resurgence of popularity in the 2000's. If anything, his work got weirder and more bizarre. His Cemetery Dance publication, The Eyes of the Carp, is one of the weirdest books I have ever read.

Wright was very active in the message boards. He was one of the most vocal members of the Shocklines forums. He was opinionated, and sometimes he ruffled some feathers. Wright always had strong political views, and his passionate convictions sometimes caused a stir. But he provoked thought and discussion. And T.M. Wright was always a gentleman about it.

The man is a poet. An illustrator. An editor and, above all, a damned fine writer. One who sought to elevate the genre to higher levels than most conceive horror fiction's capabilities.

T. M. Wright's health has been poor for quite some time, and now I have learned that he is no longer able to feed himself. He is hospitalized and is getting intravenous nutrition.

It's tragic, but the real tragedy is that his name never seems to come up when people are discussing horror fiction. I'm sure that most younger readers have not read him. When the work of T.M. Wright ought to be required reading for anyone with interest in the genre.

But then the work of T.M. Wright might be too literary, too weird, too challenging for many. I think readers were more adventurous back when Wright first made his mark.

Still, his books are available. Many are on Kindle, and used copies of them are plentiful and very inexpensive. The man sold a lot of books in the 80's, and they are easy to find. Some of his works are out in audio format. If you are among the uninitiated, The Playground would be a great place to start. Or A Manhattan Ghost Story.

T.M. Wright is one of the best we've ever had, and my heart is heavy at this turn of events.

Thursday, September 17. 2015

I recently saw an ad for some kind of tutorial program done by James Patterson. I didn't delve too deeply into it, but the quoted headline went something like "Focus on the story, not the sentence". I suppose that is fine for the kind of hackwork that comes out under the collective James Patterson byline.

In his mosaic novel, Hearts in Atlantis, one of Stephen King's characters was expounding on the craft of writing and the act of reading. The character instructs a young boy to not be like a snob, and to read for the story. Other times, read for the language. But when a book has both an excellent story, and good writing, to treasure it.

The latter can be difficult to find in genre fiction. Hell, the former can be tough to find of in this day and age of everything goes publishing.

Daniel Kraus achieves the task of delivering a cracking good story with exquisite writing every time he publishes a book. I've been a fan for quite some time, but he has outdone himself with The Death and Life of Zebulon Finch (Part 1).

I've enjoyed all of Kraus's previous work, with Rotters being a particular favorite, but nothing prepared me for experience I got from reading The Death and Life of Zebulon Finch. This is an extraordinary book. Think Charles Dickens meets Robert McCammon and you might have an idea of the scope of this novel.

In The Death of Zebulon Finch, the reader is introduced to the titular character in the form of first person narrative. Finch is a boy in the year of 1896. He is taught writing skills and to speak proper English by his mother. Yet he is unhappy, and turns to a life of crime more out of desire for adventure than greed. Young Finch is a cocksure lad, and his recklessness brings him to an untimely death. A temporary death, for Zebulon Finch rises from his watery grave to walk the Earth again.

Wait! Don't run! This isn't another zombie novel, or if it is, it is utterly unlike any you have ever encountered before.

Hungering for revenge and desperate to discover some sort of meaning to his erroneous existence, Zebulon Finch finds himself in strange and violent circumstances: A traveling sideshow where he is mercilessly exploited. The brutally bloody trenches of World War I. Finch lands in the grasp of a deranged doctor who torments him under the guise of research. And Zebulon Finch finds himself in the decadent circles of the early days of Hollywood talkies.

Kraus's long novel alternates between ghastly horror to ribald humor. The language is rich and Finch's voice never errs in the six-hundred and fifty plus pages of the book. And this is merely part one! Each sentence is a meticulously constructed marvel. I'm almost reminded of Clive Barker, but unfortunately Mr. Barker has not published anything this good in ages. If indeed he ever has.

I'm not the only one enamoured by the writing of Daniel Kraus. Fan favorite Guillermo del Toro has collaborated with him on a novel called Trollhunters.

And, I beseech you not to be dissuaded from buying The Death and Life of Zebulon Finch because it is published as a Young Adult title. If you haven't figured it out by now, some of the best and most cutting-edge fiction is coming out in the Young Adult arena. And it's cheap. Where else can you get a brand new 656 page hardcover for under fifteen bucks?

The Death and Life of Zebulon Finch comes out on October 27th. Even if you've never trusted me before, please do so this time. This will be the perfect book to read over the Halloween weekend this year.
Monday, September 7. 2015

I go to a local nature park all the time. I love walking the trails and reading out there. I always carry a book and I go at least once a week.

Yesterday I went and saw something new. It was a tiny structure. Too big for a typical birdhouse, but too small to store much of anything. Upon closer inspection I realized that it is a Little Free Library box.

If you are unfamiliar with the concept, it is simple. You clear the deal with the Little Free Library organization, and for a one-time fee you can create your own Little Free Library. The idea is for interested parties to take a book as a loan, or even to keep, but to also bring back another as trade. It's an honor system.

I was excited to find this free library at the park. I had heard of these things, but I had never actually seen one.

I always carry books with me, and I went back to my car to find some. I gathered up these books, and I left them in the box. I know that the little library is primarily for young readers, but there was no rules about content that I could see. This does not mean that I will leave books by Edward Lee or others of the Vomit Brigade.

I planned to go back today, and this time I dug up some children's books. I picked a couple of ones that were precious to me in my own youth. One is The Secret Raft, by Hazel Krantz. This story is about some kids who build a raft and explore a swamp. They meet some scientists who are doing medical research on antibiotics. It's a fun adventure with a little bit of sneaky education thrown into the mix.

I also left a "Three Boys" book. There was a series of books about three brothers, Abercrombie, Benjamin, and Christopher, who have various scientific adventures. My favorite was Three Boys in Space, and it is the one I chose to put in the second lot of books to go into the Little Free Library.

When I went back today, only the issue of Cemetery Dance Magazine was gone from the items I left there. Slightly disappointing, but it's a start. I left the second lot of books, and went on my way.

I returned late this afternoon, and the two aforementioned children's books were gone. None of the adult titles, unless you count the magazine.

I plan to enthusiastically continue with this endeavor. I love reading, but I also love sharing great books with people.

I half thought of starting my own Little Free Library, but decided against it. I have nowhere to put it, and I'm fine doing this anonymously.

I have way too many books. I acquire good ones and hate to simply get rid of them. This is a great way to share and to help bring literacy--and horror fiction--to my community.

If you are interested in starting, or adding to, a Little Free Library, please check out the website and locate one near you. I'm already enjoying this quite a bit.
Monday, August 31. 2015

Mondays are hard enough, but I woke up on this one to devastating news. Wes Craven has died.

It doesn't seem real. Wes has been around so long. He's always been there in my life, creating movies.

No, I never met the man, but that does not mean I do not feel a tremendous sense of loss. Wes Craven, along with people like George Romero, John Carpenter, and Tobe Hooper, were like Gods on Olympus to me. Unlike mythological Gods, these guys were always fallible. They all made masterpieces, but they also made some real duds.

Wes was certainly no exception, but how many directors can claim to have made three genre milestones?

Last House on the Left was a huge success on the drive-in, grindhouse, and midnight movie circuits when I was young. Too young to have seen it until much later, but I well remember hearing the radio spots. They alone were enough to scare the crap out of me.

I eventually did see Last House on the Left at a midnight show. As well as numerous times on home video. I am a genuine horror fan, after all. I never thought that it was a particularly good movie, but as a study in sadism, it is certainly effective. The manic performance of David Hess is what mostly set Last House apart from its competition.

Yet it struck a chord with people, and it did so outside the small horror community. That's real genre success.

Then there was the nearly unparalleled popularity of A Nightmare on Elm Street and its illustrious villain, Freddy Krueger. Moviegoers of all kinds responded to the story of a badly scarred child murderer who invaded the dreams of teenagers to torment and kill them.

People loved Freddy, and while the sequels became less frightening and more comical, they remained showcases of conventional effects. Freddy's grinning mug adorned many a cover of Fangoria magazine.

It was a great time to be a young horror fan. The genre was healthy, and Freddy led the pack of movies coming out. At least for a while. Time passed, and Freddy fell out of favor as the nineties commenced.

Horror was not all that healthy in the early to mid-90's, but in 1996 Craven made it hip again. Directing from a Kevin Williamson script, Wes Craven's Scream was a meta horror movie that was well aware of the genre's history, and it presented a new kind of slasher for a new generation. And it worked. Scream was produced for a modest sum, and it brought in mega-bucks for Dimension Films.

Not everyone was enthusiastic. Horror fans were starting to become cynical when Scream was released, and many felt that it was an ultimate sellout. Genre journalist Chas. Balun railed against it, and many fans vociferously despised the movie.

I don't know. Maybe Scream was too slick. Or maybe they resented that it was embraced by so many young people who knew nothing of horror. Maybe using recognizable TV stars in key roles had a lot to do with it.

No matter. Scream was a resounding success and it spawned three sequels and a television series. It is my favorite Wes Craven movie.

I have a very soft spot for his 1986 movie, Deadly Friend. It was a critical and financial flop, but I love this idiotic little messterpiece. I was such a rabidly goofball fan at the time, and my best friend and I saw it at a drive-in theater. under the stars on a cool night, sipping beers and watching the movie. How could one not enjoy it? It was a more innocent time, my friends.

Wes Craven did some movies that were obvious jobs-for-hire. Swamp Thing, Vampire in Brooklyn, and the Scream sequels come immediately to mind. Some might make an accusing shout of "SELLOUT!", but I never begrudged anyone making a living.

A few were real disasters, such as Shocker. Not that I didn't enjoy it. It's easy to dismiss Shocker as a sad attempt to create another lucrative genre franchise, but I had fun with it. Shocker is such a gonzo bugfuck experience. Like an acid trip gone bad.

The Serpent and the Rainbow is an underrated gem.

I don't fault Craven for his misfires. Film is such a collaborative medium, and the bean-counters are constantly trying to second guess the creative forces in most productions. Then guess who gets the blame when one fails miserably?

At his best, Wes Craven was one of the most ambitious directors in the horror movie realm. He dealt with archetypes of the subconscious and psychological motivations in his more personal movies. The man was intelligent, incredibly well-spoken, and while serious about his craft, Craven knew that there could be fun and laughter in being scared.

Goodbye, Wes. You helped shape the horror genre, you invaded all of our dreams, you provoked us to scream with delight, and you made us think while you did it. Thanks.

Monday, August 24. 2015

Forget the movie. Please.

It occurred the me that there might be some who haven't read Richard Matheson's classic novel, I Am Legend. I understand that not everyone enjoys reading the classics, but this book? There are classics, and then there are legends of the field.

Matheson's I Am Legend is probably the greatest horror-SF novel of the 1950's. Its influence is immeasurable. The story of a world taken over by vampires has inspired several motion pictures. The Last Man on Earth (with Vincent Price) and the movie of the same title are directly from the book. Neither do it justice, but the Price movie comes much closer than the Will Smith debacle.

I Am Legend inspired The Omega Man, and George Romero admits that he used the novel as a template for Night of the Living Dead.

So I guess it is the illegitimate father of the Zombie subgenre. Don't blame Richard Matheson for the sins of later generations.

I Am Legend is almost certainly the first story to use scientific analysis to examine and explain the vampire in fiction. The lone survivor of a vampire breakout attempts to learn what created the epidemic. Even while he grapples with his sanity in the process.

It also examines the archetypes of the human tribe and definitions of the outcast, the hero, and how time, happenstance, and perspective determine who are the monsters among us.

Matheson's novel is one of the most important stories in the genre's history. It is a marriage of the traditional monster and the modern age of reason and logic. It's also a devastating nightmare vision of a future that seems all to possible.

Vampires? Assuredly not, but virulent pestilence, human prejudice, ignorance, or fear-induced violence? It seems more likely by the day.

If you are one of the readers who has not experienced Richard Matheson's I Am Legend, you owe it to yourself to do so. Then maybe you can move on to other Matheson classics like Hell House, Somewhere in Time, The Beardless Warriors, or his many superlative short stories.

And if you have read it, perhaps it is time to go back and see how well it was done long before most of us were born.

Sunday, August 16. 2015

TV, or Music Television, premiered on August 1st, 1981. While it was a radical development (to use 80's vernacular), it wasn't completely original. Musicians had been making short movies based on songs for quite some time. The Beach Boys did it. the Turtles did it as well. Rod Steward had made quite a few. Todd Rundgren had an idea for a channel of short films based on songs, but it didn't work out. Frank Zappa experimented in music-oriented filmmaking as early as the 1960's. Former Monkee Michael Nesmith had a briefly-run syndicated show called PopClips, which was inspired by a New Zealand program entitled Radio With Pictures.

My own first experience with the music video was at a showing of Frank Zappa's psychedelic midnight movie, 200 Motels, which I saw when I was still in high school. Before the feature we were treated to eye-popping short movies set to Elvis Costello and Devo songs.

So while MTV wasn't exactly unprecedented, it was still pretty, well, rad.

MTV and the music video are such an ingrained part of our culture, that the idea for a music video channel seems like a no-brainer. Right? Well, it wasn't seen that way at the time. Who would watch it? What sponsors would pay to advertise on it? People would watch music? It was met with quite a bit of resistance.

But the creators of the world's first music channel had a collective vision, and they were persistent. Here is the brilliant part of their concept: Excepting the very modest host, or VeeJay, segments, they would not pay for their programming! They would get the record companies to supply the video clips that aired.

MTV made its creaky debut on August first, and as 'most everyone knows, Video Killed The Radio Star was the first video that ran on the channel. Footage of The doomed Challenger takeoff were public domain, so they used it as their theme footage. A snazzy little rock ditty was concocted, and an industry was born.

In the early days, if you had a song and a video, and as long as the content wasn't too controversial, chances are it would air on MTV if it were submitted. The earliest days were mostly classic rock holdovers like Rod Stewart, Journey, REO Speedwagon, Pat Benatar, Styx, The Who. But as the channel gained popularity, the rising popularity of New Wave was showcased there.

Not every band or record company embraced the notion that they should supply free product to the fledgling network. ZZ Top, in particular, was against it. All that quickly changed when it became evident that record sales and music video airtime became obvious. A new wave, indeed, of music promotion had risen, and there was no looking back.

I loved MTV for its first few years. Part of me knew that it was the beginning of the end. That style and fashion, while always a part of the delivery of music, would overtake musical talent and songwriting ability as the primary driving force of popularity of musical acts.

MTV was a perfect way for partying kids/young adults to while away time. Maybe you disliked a lot, or most of the videos shown, but you could make fun of them, and sooner or later something you wanted to see would play. Me and my friends watched for hours hoping to see videos by The Tubes or Todd Rundgren. I liked a lot of it. It was great to see new acts like The Waitresses and Bow Wow Wow. I enjoyed videos by Nick Lowe, Donnie Iris, The Pretenders, The Vapors.

It was so new and exhilarating. No one had seen anything like Once in a Lifetime, by Talking Heads. It was funny, it was musical, it was weird, it was artistic. Devo videos were amazing to behold.

For me the best days were the earliest ones. It was obvious that everyone involved was running by the seats of their pants. Many videos lacked professional production values, but that only added to the charm of them. Of course some were abominably awful, such as Billy Squire's Rock Me Tonight. That video, directed by Kenny Ortega, is reputed to have destroyed the artist's career. But things like that were at least fun to laugh at.

Despite expectations, MTV became incredibly popular. Budgets for videos rose, and this created problems for many recording artists. You don't think the record companies risked their bottom line, do you? The budgets for most videos came off the top of the artists' profit. And as increasingly more bands and singers were submitting videos, the money was often wasted. MTV no longer was desperate for content and airtime was severely limited.

The high point of it all was probably Michael Jackson's Thriller. Reportedly the most expensive music video up until then, Thriller was insanely popular. MTV was showing it hourly, and a making-of videotape became a bestseller.

When is the last time you watched Thriller? It seems so innocent now. Michael J was young and the insane superstardom that eventually killed him was just beginning. Its influence on not only music video, but horror movie makeup, is immeasurable. And how many Thriller parodies have you seen since then? If I never see another bunch of dancing zombies, I will die a happy man.

As hotshot directors began to emerge on the music video scene, and they became increasingly ambitious, I rapidly lost interest. The naive, humble days were gone. Never to return.

Besides, by the mid-80's, pretty much everyone who really wanted a VCR could have one. Movie freaks like myself no longer were no longer forced to watch mediocre television. We watched a lot of mediocre, bad, and very good, movies instead.

Now, of course, MTV is polluted by Reality TV and other crappy programming. In fact, their show, The Real World, is guilty of bringing Reality TV to popularity. Of course anyone with any savvy at all knows that there is very little reality in Reality TV.

MTV was pivotal in getting hip hop into the suburbs with Yo! MTV Raps, but that was never my thing. I was never into the heavy metal crossdressers either.

Yes, no more music videos on MTV. I guess it's for the best. New generations tend to reject the beloved pleasures of previous ones. And would you really want to watch a channel that showed Lady Gaga, Robin Thicke, Bruno Mars, and Sam Smith? I wouldn't.

The music video isn't dead. You Tube is filled with them, and I guess that's a good thing in many ways. You can watch anything you want, at any time. I can click up Detachable Penis, by King Missile, Talk To You Later, by The Tubes, Zappa, just about anything you can imagine. Stuff that MTV would never have had the balls to air. Still, I miss it.

It was kind of a magic time. Everyone was watching the same things. People discussed the new videos and we all felt like we knew the VJs. Most guys wanted to have sex with Nina Blackwood, and go on a date with Martha Quinn. J.J. Jackson was a hip black dude, but not too scary for Middle America. Alan Hunter seemed like kind of a geek, but I guess teenage girls liked him. Mark Goodman was the kind of guy you might like to party with.

The old VJs were like people you might actually know. Later ones like Pauly Shore and Downtown Julie Brown were shockingly tacky and grotesque.

Like a lot of things these days, MTV is merely a sad reminder of simpler, more honest times. I know that the music industry was corrupt back then, but it wasn't as cynical and manipulative as it is now. And, unlike many of my contemporaries, I know that more good music is coming out now than ever before. You won't find much of it on mainstream radio stations, and there certainly isn't a music channel that is interested in bold, innovative programming anymore.
Monday, July 13. 2015

I don't hate found footage movies. I really don't. I quite enjoyed the first three Paranormal Activity features. I actually loved The Last Exorcism. I also really liked The Blair Witch Project.

Then there are the bad ones. Paranormal Activity 3 comes to mind. The Last Exorcism 2. The Devil Inside.

The cream of the crop are the [REC] movies and, if you count it, Cannibal Holocaust.

Sure, they're overdone these days, but slasher movies weren't in the early 80's? Big bug movies in the 50's? Monster mashes in the 40's?

I try to judge a movie by its merits and not by the genre, or subgenre, it might fall in. Except for zombie movies. Zombies suck, regardless of whether they are fast or slow.

The latest found footage horror movie to hit theaters is The Gallows. Is it good? Read on.

The Gallows starts off promisingly enough. A scene from a high school play goes bad as a young actor accidentally gets hanged on a gallows prop. It's probably best to not ask too many questions about why it is a real, functioning, gallows.

Fast forward around 15 years, and the school is morbidly putting on the exact same play. And, yes, they are using the same gallows. If you think that is stupid and extremely weak screenwriting, you would be dead right.

Meanwhile, an especially obnoxious jock inexplicably carries around a camcorder filming everything he sees and does. Again, it's best not to question this too deeply.

The jock finds little more satisfying than to torment drama students. It's always a plus to have warm, likable protagonists in a horror movie, or how would you feel any empathy for their plight?

The jock gets a brainstorm: Why don't they break into the school and trash the set on the night before the play? Another jock who is barely less loathsome is in the play, and he agrees to help. A trashy chick joins the two athletes, and the fun begins. Oh, to even out the cast a female member of the play shows up as well.

It will be no surprise to learn that things start getting weird pretty quickly, and before you can say Coffin Rock, the kids are trapped in the auditorium, racing through its corridors, bickering with one another, and begging the camera for help.

From there the viewer is treated to a series of cheap shot phony jump scares and a weak-as-water plot that makes no sense whatsoever. Things pick up a little as the students start to get bumped off, but unfortunately the deaths are not gory or the least bit inventive.

Things get even hazier as the plot thickens. There is a contrived ending that is intended to blow the viewer's mind. It only made me wince at the thought of blowing my money on a ticket.

But, hey, I'm a cheap date. I'll allow myself to get fucked by a shitty horror movie, and not even resent it too badly.

The Gallows looks like it was made for around two hundred bucks, so I'm sure it will turn a profit. We can expect more found footage opuses in the future. Let's hope that most of them are at least a little better than The Gallows.
Saturday, June 13. 2015

I used to have a lot of fun with a weekly feature here at Horror Drive-In. In it, I would list the weekly DVD releases of interest to me and the horror/exploitation community. I liked to put on a mock critical spin on nearly everything. It made for some fun conversation.

No more. Not only are DVDs (among other items of physical media) dying, there seems to be no fans of horror and exploitation at the forum anymore.

When I launched this site, my dream was to have a forum where fans could discuss movies and books. With an emphasis on classic drive-in film. Nostalgia is a big part of why I am here.

It was good for a while. I read back over the first pages of the forum and the talk was pretty evenly mixed between book talk, classic horror and sleaze movies, and other stuff. That all seems to have dried up.

I like the idea of book people discussing grindhouse/drive-in/exploitation cinema. Certainly there are no lack of online groups dedicated to the discussion of these type of movies, but I like to think that readers might have a more interesting take on them than non-reader.

My attempts to start threads on classic horror movies have mostly been ignored. Just recently I tried to instigate a discussion about the sexy Hammer Studios vampire movie, Twins of Evil. Nary a reply. Yet a thread about food is currently at one hundred and twenty-eight pages.

And when the visual media is discussed, the threads are often about binge-watching television shows. It almost makes me think I should change the name of the site to Horror Television. But it doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?

I'm not exactly complaining. I am grateful that there is a community here at this website. Message boards are going the way of compact discs and DVD movies. Yet some of us still plow on, regardless of social changes.

Nor am I trying to tell users what to talk about. I've been at this game a long time, and that never works. It's the reason I broke away from the place I got my start in the internet message board business.

No, I'm just woolgathering. Another aging fan mooning about times gone by.

They are not exactly gone yet, but I already miss DVDs. The excitement when they were new. The enthusiastic discussions, the speculation of possible releases. In its own way it was as magical a time as when VHS became commonplace.

My God, I bought so many discs over the years, and I sold so many of them as well. Tight financial times when I was married, and when I was unemployed last year I sold every movie and record that would bring in a couple of bucks.

I can't see getting that excited about streaming movies.

I still obsess over DVDs, though. I hit the thrift stores just about every weekend, and I look at the movies, checking to see what special features they contain. That's one good thing about them going out of vogue. People are getting rid of their previous beloved collections and the junk shops are full of 'em.

I miss the heyday of the DVD. The impassioned discussions, the anticipation of the special features, the joy of letting animated menu screens run on the TV.

There will be a resurgence. Just as there is for VHS and for vinyl records. We tend to throw things away, and then miss them later when it is mostly too late. It will never be the same. I don't care what new technology comes along. We are becoming more jaded all the time, and the collector is as much of a dinosaur as a DVD player.
Thursday, June 11. 2015

I'm speechless. Devastated. Lee was the last of the old masters.

I guess this is what growing old is like. You see your idols dying off. People like Christopher Lee, Vincent Price, Frank Zappa, Ray Harryhausen, Forrest J Ackerman, Robert Bloch, Richard Matheson, Ray Bradbury, Robert A. Heinlein. Superstars who have been a part of my consciousness forever. I had reverence and awe of them in the same way the Greeks and Romans used to feel about their Gods.

I know I've have to see others, like Woody Allen and Harlan Ellison, go eventually. Either that or I will die first. I don't know what is more depressing.

Christopher Lee! Not only the greatest Dracula of all time, but quite possibly the greatest vampire of the cinema. He wasn't one of these romantic figures, like Frank Langella. Lee was regal. Kinglike. The warrior-vampire, like Vlad the Impaler.

His best movie is probably The Wicker Man. One of his oddest is also one of my favorites: The Return of Captain Invincible.

Lee camped it up in Howling 2: Your Sister is a Werewolf and Gremlins 2: The New Batch. He worked for directors like Steven Spielberg, Mario Bava, and Alejandro Jodorowsky. Christopher Lee was also in movies by Jess Franco. Lee was a Bond villain. He was a staple in Hammer pictures, and is beloved by horror fans, but Christopher Lee plays in nearly every conceivable type of movie.

He was a working actor, and thank God Hollywood did not forget about him.

Wednesday, June 3. 2015

I used to read science fiction almost exclusively. This was in my youth and early adulthood. I read a lot of pretty great stories and books. I also read some dismal things. That's the nature of the game.

By the time the 1980's were up and running, I was growing tired of SF. To me, way too much of it was inspired by lousy movies and TV shows. A lot of it was too concerned with technology and there wasn't enough focus on the inner workings of the humans in the stories.

I made the shift to horror, and was quite happy about it. I still read the occasional SF yarn, but it was becoming fewer and farther between them.

Today I am reading a little less horror, but I'm not reading a whole lot of science fiction either. I'll re-read some classic Golden Age things now and then, and extremely rarely I will embark on a new science fiction novel. It has to be a really special case.

Robert McCammon's new novel, The Border, is just out from Subterranean Press. Some are claiming that it hails back to 80's classic McCammon titles like Swan Song, and Stinger, but unlike those hybrid novels, The Border is pure science fiction.

The bare bones plot of The Border sounds like it is straight out of a Michael Bay movie, or maybe something from the Silver Age of comics. Lots of action, violence, and typical SF tropes. You've got your alien races who choose Earth as a battlefield in their war with one another. You've got bloodthirsty mutants. A magic child who might have the power to save humanity. Teleportation, death rays, and explosions galore.

Doesn't sound very sophisticated, does it?

Well, this is Robert McCammon we're talking about.

If readers wish to approach The Border as a slam-bang action novel, they will have plenty to enjoy while reading it. If readers are looking for something more, they too will find much to ponder.

To me, The Border works as a parable about second chances. About new beginnings and shaking off the chaos we've all been through. Nobody's life has been a picnic, and most of us have faced despair, depression, hopelessness, fear.

The best works of fiction make us look at the world, and our own lives, in new light. The Border did that for me. I felt as though I had been through a transformation when I read the final sentence. One that made me see things more clearly, and to put my life and its challenges into better perspective.

I congratulate Robert McCammon, not only on a magnificent job with The Border, but daring to do something so different with his fiction. I am grateful that he took this diversion from the chronicles of Matthew Corbett. Now I hope he hurries up and gets back to that character and the plight he is in at the conclusion of The River of Souls.

In closing, I thank Subterranean Press for providing the perfect literary home for Robert McCammon, and for allowing him the freedom to take chances with his writing career.
Monday, May 18. 2015

There are quite a few books coming up from longtime authors whose work I love. Here are the highlights.

THE BORDER, by Robert McCammon. This one was on my doorstep when I got home from work today. My highest anticipated publication of the year. McCammon is, quite simply, the best.

THE SCARLET GOSPELS, by Clive Barker. I choose to ignore the negative word on this one. Chances are fair that I will agree, but I will go into this as I do with every book I start: With the intention of enjoying it. The Books of Blood and The Damnation Game were two of the most important books in my early horror reading years.

FINDERS KEEPERS, by Stephen King. King is on a hell of a roll as far as I am concerned, and I absolutely loved Mr. Mercedes. Which is the first in a proposed trilogy. It was an homage to the hardboiled dick genre, yet King instilled his own warped, yet distinctly human sensibilities to the story.

PARADISE SKY, by Joe R. Lansdale. While it has been a little while since a Lansdale truly knocked my socks off, I've been a ginormous fan since I first held the Bantam paperback of The Drive-In in my trembling hands.

, by Ed Gorman. This is the latest thriller featuring Gorman's political consultant character, Dev Conrad. I don't like the Conrad series quite as much as I do the McCain books, I will read as many of these as he is gracious enough to give us.

VIXEN, by Bill Pronzini. By my count this is the forty-second publication in the incomparable Nameless Detective series. And that is not counting short stories and novellas. I don't know how he does it, but Pronzini has managed to keep these stories fresh and vital. They are among the most treasured pieces of fiction of my life.

LITTLE GIRLS, by Ronald Malfi. Ron Malfi is one of my favorites of the newer horror writers, and he always delivers a story that touches the mind and heart, as well as scaring his readers. Little Girls looks like it will be one of his best.

TIN MEN, by Christopher Golden. Golden is a one-man publishing industry, producing an alarming number of books per year. Anthologies, media tie-ins, collaborations, young adult, series work. All of uniform excellence, but I like his stand-alone novels the most. Tin Men sounds particularly good, and hopefully enough it will wipe that stupid movie with Danny Devito and Richard Dreyfuss completely from my memory.

There are always good books on the way, but right now is a particularly exciting time.

Sunday, May 17. 2015

The most hotly anticipated movie of 2015 is probably Mad Max: Fury Road. Not by me, but by a lot of people. Most particularly action fans. It's not that I wasn't looking forward to see it, but there are others that I am more excited about.

Well, it's finally here, and the praise is rolling in. Deservedly so. Mad Max: Fury Road is an astonishing accomplishment. It is certainly a visceral experience, with more action, exciting and nightmarish imagery, and explosions than most of us have ever seen in a motion picture. Few, very few, fans of the series will be disappointed.

And if the characters and their motivations are a little murky, I am reminded of a line from the immortal Paul Bartel, in Hollywood Boulevard: "This isn't a movie about the human condition. This is a movie about tits and ass".

Mad Max: Fury Road is concerned with jaw-dropping action, explosive violence, and pyrotechnics. It succeeds at what it sets out to accomplish magnificently.

Still, I won't list it among my personal favorites, and chances are fairly good that I will never watch it again. I'm not that big of an action fan these days, and the although I do like it, the Mad Max series was never one that I held in highest regard. I was always more of a Death Wish fan. Or maybe Vice Squad. Fort Apache: The Bronx. Or even Jake Speed.

I'm not complaining. Mad Max: Fury Road is exactly what I hoped it would be, and I got my money's worth. If you have not seen it yet, you need to. If you have, it's pretty likely that you will watch it again and again in the future.

I give major applause to the studio for having the wisdom to have George Miller bring his original vision back to life. They could have easily brought in a snotnose young director to make the movie. I think the gamble will pay off, even though Pitch Perfect 2 has outgrossed Mad Max: Fury Road on this opening weekend.