NERD ALERT! Shock Value

If you're even a ticket stub-size as movie nerdy as I am, then you're most likely always on the lookout for a good physical BOOK (remember those?) about genre film. There are the personal library shelf standards--Carol Clover’s Men Women & Chainsaws, Kim Newman's Nightmare Movies or the Joe Bob Briggs canon, to name a few--along with less impressive works, generally those that aim for unworthy self-importance or offer nothing more than tidbits gleamed from a director commentary track.

TLC Book Tours sent me, and many of my favorite fellow film bloggers Jason Zinoman’s new book, Shock Value, now available from Penguin Press. Focusing on a handful of auteurs who helped shape horror as we know it today, Zinoman explores how American horror of the late 1960s and 1970s evolved past its playful, mostly innocent roots into something realer, bleaker, and deeper.

Wes Craven, John Carpenter, Dan O'Bannon, George Romero, Roman Polanski, William Friedken and Brian De Palma get the most attention as Zinoman’s writing shapes just how they came to make their flagship films. Yes, some of the anecdotes have been heard before in interviews and DVD extras, but Zinoman lays it out in a manner that's both comprehensive and interesting, lending insight into how everything from Craven’s strained relationship with his Christian mother to Hooper’s experience documenting a shooting victim’s death in an ER led to such creations as Last House On the Left and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

Virtually every horror fan with a DVD player knows about William Shatner's connection to Michael Meyers, but most have never learned the decades-long saga of John Carpenter’s frenemy-like relationship with his one-time collaborator and pal, the late Dan O’Bannon. O’Bannon, the superbrain behind Alien and creator of Return of the Living Dead, might very well be one of horror and science fiction’s most important figures of all time, yet it’s rare that the writer/director gets his due. Unlike most of the other directors on profile, Zinoman follows a large chunk of O’Bannon’s career, including everything from his work on Dark Star to how his Crohn’s disease birthed (pun sorta intended) one of cinema’s scariest scenes of all time. It’s refreshing to get a fair and multi-faceted portrait of a criminally underrated talent, even if it means making Carpenter, long-time hero of genre fans, come off as, well, a bit of a jerk.

For the other filmmakers, Zinoman narrows his focus to their earlier work, using the common misconception of Hitchock’s grandfatherly status in the new wave of horror as a starting point. "As influential as he was, the notion that Hitchcock is the inventor of the modern horror genre is overstated," Zinoman claims, citing the explanatory nature of Psycho’s coda as the exact opposite of what the Shock Value subjects did with their own nihilistic spins. The Exorcist is commonly referenced as the key representative of this brand of horror, but I’d never quite heard how Friedken’s interest in the work of minimalist playwright Harold Pinter lent so much to general structure and ambiguity of the film (something author William Blatty fought against and lost until the special edition released 20 years later). 

Some territory has been well-tread, including a few morally dubious tricks Polanski used on Mia Farrow during Rosemary’s Baby and how Gunnar Hanson was so miserable while playing Leatherface that he actually found himself wanting to hurt Marilyn Burns’ Sally. What Zinoman does well with some commonly-known facts is put them in context. To explain the evolution of how Rosemary’s Baby went from a gimmick-ready William Castle film to the Oscar winning classic it became while following it up with an examination of Peter Bogdanovich’s controversial yet rarely discussed Boris Karloff vehicle Targets helps to create a dynamic timeline of the new horror cinema.

A writer for the New York Times, Jason Zinoman clearly knows and cares for genre films, and it’s refreshing to hear a balanced but passionate voice on the subject. Though  his closing chapters feel a tad too dismissive of modern horror, Zinoman does make a strong case for just why these titans of blood and guts will probably never quite be matched. It’s not that their films are perfect (in fact, even the author seems to objectively point out one issue or another with virtually all of the touchstones on display here) but the mere combination of U.S. culture and the newfound independent market simply gave way to a type of filmmaking that tapped into something deeper than ever before or, so far, since. “These are movies that want to confuse you, in part because getting lost focuses the attention on the terror of uncertainty,” writes Zinoman. “They endure, like great art does.”

Shock Value isn’t the end-all for genre studies, but those on the lookout for a good read on the subject will most certainly find some new nuggets worthy of exploration. While there's plenty of ground around and within the films that could still use some attention, the book provides an interesting thesis on the development of modern horror while also offering a few new perspectives on classic and underlooked films.  It may also give you plenty to argue with, so pack some post-its in your beach bag and enjoy some summer reading the right way.

Boys Are So Icky

Aside from James Cameron, most of us mere mortals can easily be named our own worst judges. Need proof? Take the fact that Roman Polanski, if Googling is to be believed, doesn't think much of today's feature, 1965's Repulsion.

Oh, Roman. Chill. You’re a perfectly incredible filmmaker who made at least three masterpieces and your false humility is hardly endearing. You’ve got other problems. We’ll just enjoy your films.

Quick Plot: Famed ice queen Catherine Deneuve plays Carol, a Belgian manicurist living in a London flat with her older, sassier sister. Pretty as a picture and blond to boot, Carol is overwhelmingly apprehensive when it comes to the opposite sex, an inconvenience when you happen to be, by conventional standards, an absolute fox. Even those with more gentle approaches, such as her chief suitor who seems genuinely concerned (and clearly, emotionally masochistic), do nothing to calm her nerves.

For about the first 45 minutes or so, Repulsion is a slow, tenuous journey through Carol’s daily life. Clearly, this is a damaged woman with emotional issues, but this being 1965 and Carol simply being a pretty beauty salon employee, nothing seems especially out of the ordinary. When her sister leaves town for vacation with her married boyfriend, however, Carol is left to her own crippling psychosis.

It doesn’t take long for the world to cave in on our virginal headcase. Between sexually abusive nightmares, a rotting skinned rabbit, and helping hands that occasionally grope through cracking walls, Carol creates her own male-dominated hell in her lonely low-rent apartment. 

Filmed in black and white and scored to insane beats of angry jazz, Repulsion is your signature Criterion feature. Unarguably a classic worthy of impressive vocabulary filled essays, but also genuinely fascinating and an intriguing example of what cinema can do. As Carol loses more and more of her grip on reality, Polanski’s camera becomes a terrifying barometer of her insanity, jerking along with fierce percussion beats. It’s haunting, painful, thoroughly unsettling, and ultimately, a fine example of classic cinema holding up forty years, new colors, and creepy sex crimes later.

High Points

While I would probably never want to turn it on the background, Chico Hamilton’s expressionistic jazz score does incredible things when paired with Carol’s fraught mind

Much like her similar turn in Belle du Jour, Catherine Deneuve delivers a striking performance as a woman that must connect to the audience even though, by her very nature, she comes off as a cold and distant mess

Low Points

A constant pet peeve gets renewed in black and white:

How can you be a ‘special guest star’ in a film? Especially when you have multiple scenes and play an actual character? Why, opening credits, whyyyyyyyyyyy?

Lessons Learned

Never trust a manicurist who bites her nails

There is more than one way to pay your rent, especially if you’re an attractive young woman with mental problems

Not just in Clue: Candlesticks can be effective murder weapons 

Rent/Bury/Buy

Repulsion is a must-see for any genre film fan or cinema snob, a masterfully crafted thriller that draws you into a woman’s head, then shakes it around like an excitable maraca. The DVD includes a few featurettes well worth investigating, so buy at the right price and enjoy with prestige.

Fair is Foul This Friday

Last Thursday marked the 445th birthday of one William Shakespeare. I imagine thou art wondering what this doth have to do with um, thou. Easy as a Cliffs Notes cheat sheet: The Bard not only mastered iambic pentameter, but he also created quite a few tales for modern horror filmmakers to make their own. 

Macbeth

Perhaps Shakespeare’s most famous tragedy is, conveniently enough, one of his bloodiest. Theatre geeks shudder in fear at the very sound of its name, while the audience gets treated to talk of a premature C-section 500 years before Inside and the kind of shriveled old witches that set the standard for side characters in films like Clash of the Titans and Deadtime Stories. Ghosts, child murderers, and one of the greatest female villains in fictional history round out the original work, so it’s not surprise that horror helmers have taken their shots at the ambitious lord and lady and their Scottish plotting. For a fairly faithful but also generously gory pick, I’d go with Roman Polanski’s 1971 adaptation. Shot two years after the horrific murder of Sharon Tate, Polanski’s Macbeth has a genuine darkness, squeezing the horror out of Shakespeare’s words and discarding some of the lighter moments. Heterosexual male viewers will be happy to learn that Playboy co-financed the film, resulting in some gratuitous (and some plot-required) female nudity.

Titus Andronicus

I don’t mean to assume anything about my readers, but if you’re a genre fan, am I correct in guessing you enjoy your share of cinematic cannibalism and dismemberment with the occasional rape and human sacrifice tossed in? If so, look no further than Julie Taymor’s 1999 visually gluttonous adaptation of Shakespeare’s first big hit. Some literary snobs have attempted to distance their beloved bard from penning the equivalent of Elizabethan exploitation, but Shakespeare’s elegant language and intricate storytelling is there, albeit to teach a lesson about vengeance with gruesome humor and black humor. Much like modern filmmakers who cut their teeth in the horror genre, young William broke out with this tale of Romans and Goths (historical, not Hot Topic-al) and Taymor spares no feelings or PG13 rating in ripping through the fall of a great general at the macabre bidding of a charismatic sociopath. Taymor brilliantly casts a tongue-in-cheek Anthony Hopkins, who basically channels Hannibal Lector after a few too many Chiantis. Yes, the words are Willy’s, but the Virgin Queen wouldn’t be wearing white to her non-existent wedding after watching this one.

Romeo & Juliet

What’s more horrifying than the film that made a star out of Claire Danes, essentially ending production of My So-Called Life and beginning the tragic de-hunkifying downward spiral of the man formerly known as Jordan Catalano? Okay, so Baz Lurhmann’s Florida rave-ish re-staging may not be what you’re looking for, but those trying to avoid memories of 9th grade English class need not fear: for every simple story with a title ripe for punning, there is a Lloyd Kauffman. That’s right: Tromeo & Juliet, a tale of forbidden romance with piggishly deformed lovers, is Troma Studio’s retelling of Shakespeare’s best known weepfest, with the characters you know and the gross-out humor you long for. It’s probably not the film to cite on your midterm, but it does provide more mutations than the typical high school production.

Othello

This is commonly known as Shakespeare’s racial drama, but my filmic recommendation ignores that aspect and focuses instead on the poisonous nature of jealousy and distrust. And roller skates. That’s right: bring on the Jezebels.  As Quentin Tarantino points out in the special edition DVD, Jack Hill’s 1975 Switchblade Sisters is a fairly straightforward re-imaging of Othello. The powerful yet insecure Lace takes on the part of the doomed Moor, as her Iago-esque friend Patch whispers suspicions in the gang leader’s little ear, forcing Lace to question new sister Maggie and her intentions towards Domonic’s Desdemona. True, Shakespeare didn’t script shootouts or forced nerd prostitution, but Switchblade Sisters proves that a good story is timeless--even if the fashion is not.

With the financial success of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, I figure it’s only a matter of time before Hamlet is dusted off to be played by an angsty Twilight alum. In the meantime, feel classy and cultured the old fashioned way and share your thoughts below. Bonus points for anyone that puts their comments in sonnet form.