New Book for the New Year

Couldn’t wait to show blog readers the great cover design of my newest book, coming in 2024.

More details soon.

Soldier’s Story

Twenty-five years after its release, Paul W.S. Anderson’s Soldier (1998) is a film that, despite its initial mixed reception, has acquired a cult following. Now, thanks to author Danny Stewart’s Soldier: From Script to Screen (BearManor Media) readers who appreciate it — or want to better understand it  — can learn quite a bit about the creation and production of what Stewart describes as “part military movie, part Western, and part outsider allegory.”

The heart and meat of this book are Stewart’s interviews with more than a dozen film professionals who worked on the project, notably screenwriter David Webb Peoples. They are presented much in the style of Tom Weaver’s acclaimed books on older sci-fi and horror films, allowing us to hear the interviewees’ voices even from the printed page. While one or two of them have little of interest to say, on the whole they provide a substantial amount of behind-the-scenes information of the kind that warms a film buff’s heart. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone had done this with so many classic films while the opportunity was there? Stewart deserves kudos for capturing this information in a timely way; the clock of motion picture history is always ticking away, more rapidly than we realize. 

Though it’s clear the author greatly admires the film, he allows other opinions to be aired. The always-welcome and astute John Kenneth Muir contributes a review that ably assesses what works — and what doesn’t — about Soldier. Stewart also explores the ways in which Soldier intersects with Blade Runner.

This book was clearly a labor of love for its author. Those who share his regard for Soldier will read it with pleasure and gratitude.

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

“The Review is In!”

Color me flattered by veteran film historian James L. Neibaur’s recent review of Rochelle Hudson: A Biography and Career Record. Jim calls it “an interesting, enlightening, and impressive portrait of both the person and the actress,” one that “gives us a truly thorough understanding of Hudson’s screen career as well as her life.” He adds that it’s “highly recommended for libraries, research centers, and fans of classic Hollywood.” (Are you listening, librarians, archivists, and readers?)

You can read the review in its entirety here. While you’re there, check out the impressive list of film books Jim has published over the course of a noteworthy career.

Snow Job

For savvy horror and sci-fi fans, the name Bryan Senn on a book cover has long been a reliable indicator of an authoritative, enjoyable read. Now Senn expands his horizons a bit with Ski Films: A Comprehensive Guide (McFarland), covering a sport which his usual readers may not know is another of the author’s longtime passions.

Would you be surprised that this winter sport has figured into enough movies to fill a 400-plus page volume? I was. Off the top of my head, I came up with Downhill Racer (1969) and Aspen Extreme (1993), and, in an earlier era, the musicals of Sonja Henie. But in this book, similar in format to his The Werewolf Filmography, published a couple of years ago, Senn provides a comprehensive overview of films covering a century of filmmaking. Each film is evaluated both for its overall merits (or lack thereof) as well as comments on its depiction of skiing. 

At times, you’ll be glad Senn sat through these movies, so you don’t have to. He awards the apple for “absolutely the stupidest ski scene” to xXx (2002) for “a five-minute snowboarding sequence that must be seen to be disbelieved,” while making mention of “charmless” Vin Diesel’s “bland expressions and blah delivery.” Coming in for more affirmative coverage is the aforementioned Downhill Racer, which scores well on both the “Cinematic” and “Ski-Matic” ratings that the author assigns to each film. 

Useful appendices provide a handy guide to ski movie tropes (such as avalanches), a chronological listing of films covered, and a best-to-worst ranking (including the author’s Top Ten ski films). Whether you read cover-to-cover or browse, this is a fun book, one that amply displays Senn’s gifts for both research and readability.

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

Hurrah for Meuel

David Meuel’s Silent Film’s Last Hurrah: The Remarkable Movies of the Long 1928 (McFarland) takes an overview of film during a period stretching from the groundbreaking release of The Jazz Singer in October 1927 through February 1929. It was a time when Hollywood continued to release silent films, but audience response made it clear that sound had revolutionized the young industry. Performers and other creative talents would either have to adapt to a new set of filmmaking tools, or be left behind.

Each of thirteen chapters covers a filmmaker who released an important work during the time in question. Many of the era’s best-known talents appear: Chaplin, Keaton, Mary Pickford, Gloria Swanson, and Lon Chaney are joined by the likes of Josef von Sternberg and William Wellman. Among the films he analyses in depth are Steamboat Bill, Jr., Sadie Thompson, and The Wedding March. A follow-up chapter briefly discusses another twenty-eight noteworthy films that appeared during the long 1928. Meuel is a highly knowledgeable, authoritative film historian who presents his theses in a clear and accessible style that can be appreciated by scholars and film buffs alike.

Being a longtime admirer of Joan Crawford, I especially enjoyed the chapter that discusses her star-making film Our Dancing Daughters, which makes a slightly unexpected appearance here. Meuel ably assesses the ways in which, throughout a long career, Crawford continued to draw on the techniques of silent film performance that she learned from mentors like Chaney, and cogently explains why she adapted to the coming of the sound era in a way that performers like Clara Bow seemed unable to do. Brushing aside the personal dramas that have many knowing her primarily as “Mommie Dearest,” the author shares his conviction that, for a period between the mid-forties and early fifties, Miss Crawford “was as consistently good as any actress in Hollywood.” Another strong chapter, on director King Vidor and The Crowd, helped me better understand the acclaim this iconic film has received, and how revolutionary it was for the Jazz Age, unlike most other films of its day.

If you’re looking for a thoughtful, engrossing work on a fascinating time in motion picture history, look no further.

A First Look

Many thanks to noted film historian James Robert Parish for contributing the first Amazon review of Rochelle Hudson: A Biography and Career Record, which he says “gives [the] subject Grade A treatment,” and offers “many noteworthy facts on her life on- and off-screen.” 

I’m flattered by his kind words, which I hope will encourage more readers to get acquainted with the fascinating Miss Hudson.

It’s Here!

I was excited to see author copies of Rochelle Hudson: A Biography and Career Record arrive on my doorstep this week, which means it can also be in readers’ hands shortly. In addition to the link above, you can find it at Amazon and other online bookstores. The print version is out, with eBooks to follow shortly. I’ll also share a few reviews as they come in.

I enjoyed learning about her life and career, and hope you will too.