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BOOKS ON HORROR MOVIE MAKERS: AN OVERVIEW
For true horror movie fans, horror moviemakers are as venerated as the films
they make. And no wonder: the lives and personalities of genre auteurs like
John Carpenter, George Romero, Brian DePalma, Dario Argento and others are
pretty much inseparable from their art. Don’t believe me? Just check out some
of the books about our horror heroes. Sure, you can log onto their respective
websites, but most of those are fan run and lack the personal slant the
following books—the good ones, at least—provide.
Case in point: JOHN CARPENTER, THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS, edited by
Gilles Boulenger (Silman-James Press, 2003). This tome consists of a
book-length interview with John Carpenter, who speaks candidly about his
experiences making classics like HALLOWEEN, THE FOG, ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK and my
personal favorite THE THING (whose failure at the box office nearly derailed his
career). He also talks at length about growing up in the grip of the bible
belt, his interest in quantum physics, and furthermore isn’t shy about
discussing recent bummers like ESCAPE FROM L.A. and GHOSTS OF MARS. Carpenter
comes off as a witty and intelligent guy throughout (which makes me wonder why
his recent films haven’t been better) and the book is compact and endlessly
quotable—definitely required reading for all Carpenter fans. It’s like one of
those Faber & Faber “___ on ___” interview books; editor Gilles Boulenger has
compiled a number of Faber titles, and the overall layout is nearly identical.
Speaking of Faber & Faber titles, that publisher’s
LYNCH ON LYNCH (1999), which profiles David Lynch, is also a must read.
Ditto Faber’s CRONENBERG ON CRONENBERG (1992), GILLIAM ON GILLIAM (1999) and
BURTON ON BURTON (1995). LYNCH ON LYNCH has a great subject, obviously, who
isn’t afraid to speak candidly about his obsessions...like dissecting dead fish
and labeling their organs! He also discusses his films up to 1996’s
LOST
HIGHWAY (his apparent “comeback film” after the failure of TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK
WITH ME); what he doesn’t talk about is how the baby from ERASERHEAD was created
or his daughter Jennifer’s noxious BOXING HELENA. But my real beef is with the
book’s loony-liberal interviewer Chris Rodley, who at one point has the audacity
to suggest to Lynch that the sadomasochistic relationship at the heart of BLUE
VELVET should somehow be “different” so it doesn’t “reinforce those
(stereotypical) images.”
What an ass. Chris, you see, is very concerned with
cinematic representations of the fairer sex, and claims the response by special
interest groups who protested the film “isn’t necessarily a call for censorship,
but a criticism of the treatment of women in films.” Furthermore, he goes on to
dismiss political correctness as an “invention of the right.” Sorry Chris, but
your arrogant request for “something different” DOES smack of a “call for
censorship” to me, and an extremely bone-headed one (the men in BLUE VELVET
don’t exactly receive preferential treatment themselves)--and maybe political
correctness is an invention of the right, but that hasn’t stopped quite few
liberals from using it to further their own repressive agendas...like Mr.
Christopher Rodley! I commend David Lynch for restraining himself from smacking
this twit upside the head (as it is, Lynch tells him to simply “Relax!”).
CRONENBERG ON CRONENBERG was also edited by
Chris Rodley, who thankfully keeps his imbecilic views to himself this time
around. The result is the most interesting of all the Faber tomes, with “Dave
Deprave” detailing his obsessions with death, disease and other fun stuff, along
with his one-of-a-kind films. Unfortunately, the book only goes up to
M.BUTTERFLY (my least favorite of Cronenberg’s films) and so misses out on
subsequent flicks like CRASH and SPIDER, both among Cronenberg’s best work IMO.
Also recommended is THE SHAPE OF RAGE: THE FILMS OF DAVID CRONENBERG, edited by
Piers Handling (The Academy of Canadian Cinema; 1983). This anthology book is
obviously quite dated (not to mention out of print and extremely difficult to
find), but remains a vital resource for Cronenberg-philes; it includes a lengthy
interview, an essay by Cronenberg dissenter Robin Wood and an interesting
account of the making of VIDEODROME by Video Watchdog’s Tim Lucas.
Continuing with the Faber titles, GILLIAM ON GILLIAM,
edited by Ian Christie, is another must-read, distinguished by its subject’s
fearlessness. Gilliam, unlike the majority of his contemporaries, isn’t afraid
to speak candidly about folks in and out of his industry, and offers some
extremely frank opinions on the likes of Martin Scorsese, Gloria Steinham, Sid
Sheinberg (the Universal exec who tried to recut BRAZIL) and Alex Cox (from whom
Gilliam took over the production of FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS).
Marvelously entertaining stuff.
BURTON ON BURTON, edited by Mark Salisbury, is
the last of the Faber titles of direct interest to us. The subject is of course
the one and only Tim Burton, of BEETLEJUICE, BATMAN and SLEEPY HOLLOW fame.
Burton is—or was, at least—one of the most individual of all big studio
filmmakers, and in this book he speaks bluntly about the tortured, lonely
adolescence that fuelled his unique films. I’m sure quite a few of you out
there can identify with him in that respect, no?
Faber books are fun, without question: lively, heavily
illustrated and, best of all, none of them take more than a couple days to
read. The only drawback is a crack made by filmmaker Martin Scorsese, who
claimed his comments in SCORSESE ON SCORSESE (1989) were “all lies.” If that’s
true then I’m hoping it’s the exception and NOT the rule!
To be sure, no true horror fan is entirely ignorant of
the films of George Romero, and Paul Gagne’s THE ZOMBIES THAT ATE PITTSBURGH
(Dodd, Mead; 1987) is an indispensable resource. A large-format paperback with
in-depth chapters on all Romero’s films up to
DAY OF THE DEAD (which is fine
because, frankly, none of Romero’s subsequent films are worth the space), it’s
heavily illustrated and quite readable. Unfortunately, it’s also long out of
print.
Another out of print book you need is THE DePALMA
CUT by Laurent Bouzereau (Dembner Books; 1988). The author is obviously a
Brian DePalma fanatic, and spends much of the book defending his idol against
the many charges—misogyny, plagiarism, etc.—that have haunted him over the
years. In all frankness, the book isn’t terribly well written, as Bouzereau’s
real talents clearly lie elsewhere; he now compiles supplementary DVD material
for the likes of Steven Spielberg and, of course, Brian DePalma. In any event,
THE DePALMA CUT is still a must have, as, aside from Julie Salamon’s infamous
THE DEVIL’S CANDY (about the unmaking of THE BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES), it’s the
only worthwhile book on its subject. This means you should skip Susan Dworkin’s
DOUBLE DePALMA (Newmarket Press; 1984), a slim, perfunctory account of the
production of BODY DOUBLE. There are a few interesting behind-the-scenes
tidbits, but Dworkin lets her obnoxious feminist leanings and obvious dislike of
DePalma overwhelm her book.
Look folks, if you’re concerned about political
correctness then you’re probably better off NOT viewing horror movies, much less
writing about ‘em (this means you, Mr. Rodley and Ms. Dworkin!). Thankfully,
Maitland McDonagh, author of BROKEN MIRRORS, BROKEN MINDS: THE DARK DREAMS OF
DARIO ARGENTO (Sun Tavern Fields; 1991), has no such agenda. Argento’s
films, after all, are unapologetically violent, with women getting the brunt of
the abuse. This doesn’t deter McDonagh from analyzing Argento’s work in a
serious, refreshingly non-PC light; I don’t agree with all her views (she claims
SUSPERIA and INFERNO, my favorite Argento films, “operate on a far shallower
level than the films that couch them...they are simply dark magical mystery
tours...”), but I do admire the way in which they’re presented. This is, FYI,
probably the most collectible of all the books mentioned herein. Seriously:
used copies on Bookfinder.com sell for around two to three hundred bucks
apiece...so if you ever get a chance to own this book, I’d advise jumping on it
ASAP! McDonagh is also the author of FILMMAKING ON THE FRINGE: THE GOOD, THE
BAD AND THE DEVIANT DIRECTORS (Carol Publishing Group; 1994), a book of
decent interviews with filmmakers like
Stuart Gordon, Charles Band, Sam Raimi
and Joe Dante.
Director William Friedkin may be best known for
more-or-less mainstream thrillers like THE FRENCH CONNECTION and THE RULES OF
ENGAGMENT, but he also made THE EXORCIST, one of the most potent horror movies
of all time, as well as THE GUARDIAN, which falls at the opposite end of the
genre spectrum. About this madman, who back in his heyday apparently made
Oliver Stone look like Pat Robertson, I recommend two books: the biographical
HURRICANE BILLY by Nat Segaloff (Morrow/Avon; 1990) and the more scholarly
WILLIAM FRIEDKIN: FILMS OF ABERRATION, OBSESSION AND REALITY by Thomas D.
Clagett (Silman-James Press; 2003).
Of the two, Segaloff’s book
is the more accessible. Segaloff writes about Friedkin’s work with an
irrepressible Ain’t-It-Cool-News like enthusiasm, yet isn’t shy in confronting
his subject’s oft-outrageous antics. Clagett’s textbook-like tome, on the other
hand, is much heavier going (in its updated second edition, at least); it’s over
400 pages of densely worded, highly academic prose. It is, however, worth
perusing for serious Friedkin buffs (like myself), as the author has quite a few
insights into his subject’s work.
Speaking of madmen, I think everyone should read at
least one book on Roman Polanski, one of the world’s foremost cinematic
provocateurs (onscreen and off), who’s led a wide-ranging, event-filled
life that’s every bit as interesting—and often downright horrific—as his films.
I’ve read four books on the man, of varying quality. Thomas Kieran’s ROMAN
POLANSKI STORY (Grove Press; 1980) is pure sleaze, having been penned
shortly after Polanski’s 1976 arrest for molesting a thirteen-year-old girl in
Jack Nicholson’s hot tub and subsequent flight from justice. Kieran’s
sensationalistic, poorly written account is filled with salacious details, and
not a few outright lies. Barbara Leaming’s POLANSKI: THE FILMMAKER AS VOYEUR
(Simon and Schuster; 1983) is too short to do its subject justice, although it’s
definitely preferable to the former book. Polanski’s 1983 autobiography
ROMAN (William Morrow; 1984) is likewise pretty disappointing, being a
heavily ghosted account that goes out of its way to whitewash Polanski’s many
outrages and make him seem like a decent guy; the result is whiny, affected and
rather dull.
This leaves John Parker’s POLANSKI (Victor
Gollancz; 1992), by far the best and most up-to-date (even if it is eleven years
old now) of the Polanski bios. Parker unflinchingly details RP’s frequently
repulsive behavior, but what ultimately emerges is a compelling portrait of an
extremely complex individual who continues to thrive, despite having grown up
amidst the horrors of Nazi rule in his native Poland, having had his first wife
and unborn child brutally slaughtered by Charles Manson’s “family” in 1969,
getting exiled permanently from the US for the above-mentioned sexual escapade
and alienating nearly every producer he’s ever worked for (along with quite a
few actors) with his standoffish personality. In other words, Parker can’t help
but admire Polanski’s refusal to give up, even in the face of an untiring,
implacable enemy: himself!
Rob Van Scheers’ PAUL VERHOEVEN (Faber & Faber;
1997) is a good look at another foreign immigrant who’s caused more than his
share of trouble on American movie screens. Verhoeven made a number of
outrageous films in his native Holland (TURKISH DELIGHT, SPETTERS,
THE FOURTH
MAN) and continued in that vein after relocating to Hollywood (with ROBOCOP,
BASIC INSTINCT and STARSHIP TROOPERS). Van Scheers thoughtfully examines all
Verhoeven’s films (even the really lame ones), drawing upon extensive interviews
with Verhoeven and his cohorts. If nothing else, this book warrants mention as
the only print resource I know of to contain a serious, non-ironic defense of
SHOWGIRLS!
One filmmaker whose works I’ve long admired is Nicolas
Roeg, the iconoclastic genius behind WALKABOUT, DON’T LOOK NOW and
BAD TIMING,
among many others. His films are so bizarre and complex I’m sure a great book
could be written on them. So far, however, only two slim volumes exist that I
know of, neither of them particularly great: THE FILMS OF NICOLAS ROEG by
Neil Sinyard (Charles Letts; 1991) and FRAGILE GEOMETRY: THE FILMS,
PHILOSOPHIES AND MISADVENTURES OF NICOLAS ROEG by Joseph Lanza (PAJ; 1989).
Sinyard’s book is okay, with chapters analyzing each of
Roeg’s films from PERFORMANCE (1970) to THE WITCHES (1990). The author’s
observations are intelligent for the most part, although I find his viewpoint
too conservative overall to do Roeg’s work justice. Lanza’s wildly eccentric
study seems more appropriate to Nicolas Roeg’s loopy universe. In FRAGILE
GEOMETRY, present tense observations about Roeg’s films alternate with
interviews with Roeg and his screenwriters Paul Mayersberg and Alan Scott, as
well as a chapter comparing Roeg’s work—favorably—to that of Ed Wood! According
to Lanza: “No other two directors have so ingeniously mastered the art of
ambivalent intention by refusing to reveal whether we are really laughing at
them or they at us.”
In fact, there is another director to whom the above
declaration definitely does apply, perhaps even more fittingly than either
Nicolas Roeg or Ed Wood. It’s Ken Russell, the British cinema’s official “wild
man,” known for loopy masterpieces like
THE DEVILS, TOMMY, THE LAIR OF THE WHITE
WORM and GOTHIC. Like Roeg’s work, Russell’s films deserve better than they’ve
been given, in print at least. The anthology KEN RUSSELL, edited by
Thomas R. Atkins (Monarch Press; 1976) is a scrappy collection that’s more a
pamphlet than a book. KEN RUSSELL: THE ADAPTOR AS CREATOR by Joseph
Gomez (Frederick Muller Ltd.; 1976) is better: a highly literate account
containing an introduction by the man himself (who calls it “the best thing ever
written about me and my work and likely to remain so”). The problem is that
these 27-year-old books are just too damn OLD; many of Russell’s most
interesting films IMO have been made in the years since their respective
publications. Russell fans are probably best off reading his 1989 autobiography
A BRITSH PICTURE (ALTERED STATES in the US) or, better yet,
listening to his peerlessly entertaining DVD commentaries.
Eeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuw! Recognize that?
It’s the sound people tend to make when the German filmmaker Jorg Buttgereit is
mentioned. Buttgereit, you’ll remember, is the demented genius behind perverted
classics like NEKROMANTIK and SCHRAMM. David Kerekes’ appropriately titled
SEX MURDER ART: THE FILMS OF JORG BUTTGEREIT (Headpress; 1994) is a good
resource for folks interested in this unique filmmaker. Much like the
aforementioned George Romero book, it’s copiously illustrated and user-friendly,
with much pertinent info on the banning of NEKROMANTIK 2 in Germany. Needless
to say, however, that like the films it describes, the book is extremely
hard-core stuff and NOT for all tastes!
Lucio Fulci is another filmmaker whose films—ZOMBIE, THE
BEYOND, CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD--tend to elicit decidedly strong reactions.
Chas. Balun’s LUCIO FULCI: BEYOND THE GATES (Blackest Heart Books; 1996)
is hardly the definitive book on its subject, but it is a fun 76-page booklet in
which DEEP RED’S Balun airs his oft-hilarious views on Fulci’s films (on THE NEW
YORK RIPPER, with its quacking psycho killer: “Why a fuckin’ duck?”). It
also features a good intro by Fulci’s daughter Antonella, who writes candidly of
her father’s mercurial personality (“If you wanted to live with Dad, you had to
stop trying to understand him. You just had to accept him”).
Last but definitely least, we come to the infamous Ed Wood,
the supposed worst filmmaker who ever lived. I can think of worse moviemakers
than he, but will concede that Wood’s films, which include GLEN OR GLENDA and
PLAN NINE FROM OUTER SPACE, are pretty stinky (and often damn funny!). Rudolph
Grey’s A NIGHTMARE OF ECSTASY: THE LIFE AND ART OF EDWARD D. WOOD, JR.
(Feral House; 1992) was the basis of Tim Burton’s 1994 EW biopic, and consists
of quotations from many of Wood’s associates. That’s right, the whole book is
made up of quotations, arranged in chronological order. Thus Grey can’t be
accused of falsification or even bad writing: he literally lets his subjects
speak for themselves. The result is a satisfying look at Wood’s unique life and
films, including his final descent into alcoholism and untimely death that Tim
Burton’s film ignored.
There are more such books, of course. Unfortunately,
many are so rare and/or expensive as to be beyond even my grasp (Tim Lucas and
Peter Blumenstock’s OBSESSION: THE FILMS OF JESS FRANCO is a tantalizing title I
have yet to track down), while others I’ve simply never gotten around to reading
(Stephen Thrower’s BEYOND TERROR: THE FILMS OF LUCIO FULCI falls into this
category, but it is near the top of my list). Hopefully I’ll be able to update
this piece before too long.
Coming soon: short reviews of single-film “making of”
tomes (i.e. THE NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD FILMBOOK, THE MAKING OF THE LAST HOUSE
ON THE LEFT, etc.), autobiographies (including Lloyd Kaufman’s ALL I NEED TO
KNOW I LEARNED FROM THE TOXIC AVENGER and William Castle’s essential STEP RIGHT
UP: I’M GONNA SCARE THE PANTS OFF AMERICA!) and horror movie guides. Stay
tuned!