New Book Coming

I’m happy to announce that I have signed to publish my 12th book on performing arts history with McFarland and Company. I’ll have more to say about the book later, but for now I can reveal that it deals with 1950s television, and should be out in 2026.

Stay tuned!

“Another Wonderful Book”

The always-interesting “Another Old Movie Blog,” hosted by Jacqueline T. Lynch, is shining a spotlight on my book, John Hodiak: The Life on Film, Stage and Radio. Am I glad she did!

This post’s title is blatantly cribbed from her review. She mentions not only Hodiak’s film career, but his work on radio, which the book covers in detail. Ms. Lynch believes he deserved a higher level of fame than he achieved prior to his early demise, and I certainly concur.

To read her review in its entirety, go here.

While you’re there, become a subscriber, and check out her fine books. You’ll be glad you did.

P.S. I’m hard at work on a new book project. Stay tuned. I hope to share some details soon.

Holiday Sale!

Just in time for seasonal gift-giving, my publisher is offering a great across-the-board discount:

If you already own all my books (a boy can dream, can’t he?), you’ll find that McFarland also has plenty of interesting titles in the fields of sports, history, and literary criticism, among others, not to mention more performing arts tomes than you can shake a stick at.

Check it out!

The Reviews Are In!

No, it’s not like one of those movie scenes where the cast and crew of a Broadway play sit nervously at Sardi’s late on opening night, waiting for the newspaper critics to publish their reviews. But I think most authors would admit there’s a little anxiety felt when your book makes its debut in the world, and you wait to hear how critics and readers react.

So, that being said, are you ready to read the first published review of John Hodiak: The Life and Career on Film, Stage and Radio? Here it is, courtesy of noted film biographer Derek Sculthorpe. 

Want a second opinion? My fellow author Stephen Michael Shearer has contributed the inaugural Amazon review, which says in part, “David C. Tucker has written an excellent biography … followed by a well-researched and valuable critical history of all (Hodiak’s) films, stage and radio appearances … As he accomplished with his fascinating books on actress Rochelle Hudson, and director S. Sylvan Simon, Tucker has given us another well-deserved and valuable biography which every film buff and scholar should read.”

While critical plaudits are greatly appreciated, I enjoy hearing from readers, too. So if you like the book, I hope you’ll let me know. Mr. Hodiak deserves the recognition, don’t you think?

Hodiak’s a Hit!

What a nice surprise this morning, seeing John Hodiak atop Amazon’s list of bestselling Performing Arts History and Criticism titles.

Have you ordered your copy?

Hodiak in the House

I’m delighted to announce that, at long last, my newest book has been published:

Here’s a glimpse of what’s included.

He became a star overnight as surly, sexy, usually shirtless Kovac in Hitchcock’s Lifeboat (1944). Handsome and personable, John Hodiak (1914-1955) embraced his heritage as the son of Polish-Ukrainian immigrants, making him a rare Golden Age actor whose true ethnicity (and birth name) were widely known by moviegoers. Starting in radio, Hodiak was brought to Hollywood by MGM, starring in films like A Bell for Adano (1945) and The Harvey Girls(1946). In making Sunday Dinner for a Soldier (1944), he and co-star Anne Baxter fell in love despite divergent backgrounds and wed after a tumultuous courtship. The 1950s saw the breakdown of his marriage but also new professional opportunities, notably Broadway stardom in The Caine Mutiny Court-Martial. Tragically, his death at age 41 cut short an impressive career.

This first full-length study of Hodiak’s life and work, featuring original interviews with his daughter and others alongside genealogical and archival research, paints a full-bodied portrait of a man who achieved the American dream, only to have it snatched away in the prime of life. The annotated filmography provides synopses, reviews, and critical commentary of his 34 motion pictures, followed by an overview of radio, stage, and television performances.

It’s available for immediate shipment from the publisher, and can be ordered from online bookstores like Amazon, where you can choose either the print or Kindle edition.

I’m happy to share the product of nearly two years’ work with film buffs everywhere. If you read it, I hope you’ll let me know how you like it.

Noir Star

As I’ve mentioned before, I believe there are certain iconic Hollywood figures who have already been the subject of enough books, if not too many. (Hello, Marilyn Monroe!) But as author David Meuel makes a point of saying up front, his new book Joan Crawford in Film Noir: The Actress as Auteur (McFarland) is not a biography. That’s especially welcome for an actress whose private life — or, perhaps I should say, gossip about it — has too often overshadowed serious discussions of her work.

As Meuel states, by examining Crawford’s noir-tinged films of the 1940s and 1950s, his book helps readers appreciate “what she aspired to achieve in her art,” and “why the best of her efforts speak to us across the decades with such intensity and authority.” Naturally, any such discussion includes her Oscar-winning performance in Mildred Pierce (1945), but the author also makes room for extensive, thoughtful coverage of Daisy Kenyon (1947), A Woman’s Face (1941), and a personal favorite of mine, Autumn Leaves (1956). 

When the film, like This Woman is Dangerous (1952), falls well short of brilliance, he says so, but not without pausing to consider what elements of it do work. All told, twelve films receive in-depth coverage. I also appreciated his inclusion of two little-known dramas starring Crawford, seen on television’s General Electric Theater (1953-62), which contain clear noir elements. His comments make me eager to see them. 

Meuel readily acknowledges that movie buffs often find the actress’ later efforts like Female on the Beach and Queen Bee (1955) “films they’ll see to hoot and howl at.” But his essay about them poses an interesting quandary: “Why would Crawford … settle for bad scripts” and “play these roles with such scene-chewing relish?” The text that follows is intriguing.

If you’re a longtime Crawford fan (as I am), or a devotee of noir, like so many classic film fans, this book is well worthy of your attention. The carefully chosen film stills are a welcome bonus.