Sand, Sun and Shrieks

It's often said that a successful book on film is one that makes you want to see the movies it discusses. But in the case of Brad Sykes' Terror in the Desert: Dark Cinema of the American Southwest (McFarland), I sometimes had a different reaction -- I was grateful to him for sitting through some truly dreadful-sounding films, so that I'll never have to. I suspect it's a lot more fun to read about them, at least in this author's hands.

That's not to say that he writes only about drek here. Quite the contrary -- he not only pinpoints a film genre that's much more prevalent than I'd ever realized, but he also shows us some of the finest examples around. Once you've accepted the idea of desert horror as a genre, it's fairly easy to think of at least a few films that might qualify -- The Hills Have Eyes (1977) and its sequels, obviously; U-Turn (1997). But you may be surprised how many others fall under the author's view here. He casts a wide net in the films he covers, going all the way back to the silent era, and up through 2016.

He identifies The Sadist (1963) as "the very first desert terror film." Though it's been memorably lampooned on TV's Mystery Science Theater 3000, Sykes makes a convincing case that it's actually a film of merit, one that works on a level beyond its tiny budget and inexperienced actors. He also wisely includes in his study made-for-TV features like Duel and Savages that clearly deserve consideration. The author's own experience as a filmmaker enriches his appreciation of the films discussed, making his commentary intelligent and knowledgeable. He tries to see what works well (and why), but when a film deserves a slam, Sykes doesn't hesitate to provide it, calling Detour (2003, not the Edgar G. Ulmer film!) "technically spotty ... abysmally acted [and] excruciatingly inane." 

This is a worthwhile and accomplished study of a film genre that has too often been overlooked.

NOTE: I was furnished a free e-copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Visit to a Bygone Era

About three years ago, when I reviewed Derek Sculthorpe's book on Sydney Greenstreet, I remarked on the difficulty of painting a detailed portrait of an actor who'd been dead for some sixty years, and whose early career consisted primarily of live theater. Silly me. Little did I know how much Derek likes such a challenge. His latest, The Lost World of Music Hall: A Celebration of Ten Greats (BearManor Media) finds him profiling performers whose career achievements were often more than 100 years ago, and of whose work modern-day readers, with rare exceptions, have no first-hand memory. Does he let it daunt him? Not a bit.

Before reading this book, I knew little about the very British tradition of music halls, which flourished in an era roughly paralleling the heyday of American vaudeville houses. Here, Sculthorpe has selected ten performers -- Billy Bennett, Margaret Cooper, Bert Errol, Vivian Foster, Tom Foy, Charlie Higgins, Alfred Lester, Norman Long, Lily Morris, and Nellie Wallace -- who won acclaim with audiences of that long-gone time. They're a varied bunch -- comediennes, female impersonators, singers, pianists, and one fellow who got his laughs impersonating a vicar.  

Some of them were around long enough to make recordings, as well as appearing on radio or in the movies. But even if you can't experience them through one of those media, Sculthorpe is remarkably successful at conveying to a modern reader (and, in my case, not a fellow Brit) what audiences saw in these artists. They often persisted despite a variety of professional and personal challenges, and became favorites not only of theatregoers but even, in some cases, of the royal family. 

The book is thoroughly researched yet quite readable, and chock-full of rare illustrations that evoke the time period. It also provides excerpts from the performers' acts, and samples of the wit that audiences loved. The author doesn't bill his book as the definitive study of music halls, but as a supplement to earlier volumes, enthusiastically recommending several to the reader who wants to delve deeper. 

This book is well worth the attention of anyone who wants a look into a "lost world" that influenced the entertainment industry, and the generations of performers who followed, for years to come.

NOTE: I was furnished a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Outtake: Martha Raye

I don't quite remember why this photo didn't make it into the print edition of Martha Raye: Film and Television Clown, but I love it anyway. It shows Martha in the thick of things on her picture Waikiki Wedding (1937). Bing Crosby and Bob Burns were the male leads in the film, but if you look quick you can spot young Anthony Quinn as a native named "Kimo." 

Check it out if you're in the mood for some lightweight fun and music.

New Book in 2022

I'm delighted to announce that I've signed a contract to publish a book on the life and films of Golden Age actress Rochelle Hudson, coming from McFarland next year.

Born in 1916, Rochelle was trained for stardom from childhood by her ambitious mother. In 1930, the fourteen-year-old landed her first studio contract, and a year later was named a WAMPAS Baby Star. In the 1930s, she made such classic films as Imitation of Life and Les Misérables, and worked with stars like W.C. Fields (three times), Shirley Temple, and Henry Fonda. 

Married four times, Rochelle and her first husband, a Navy man, went on espionage expeditions during World War II on behalf of Naval intelligence. In the 1950s, she was the leading lady of the television comedy series That's My Boy, and played Natalie Wood's mother in Rebel without a Cause.

Rochelle died young, in 1972, but her life was full of accomplishments and intrigue. She's a fascinating lady. I hope you'll be interested in reading her story.