I was totally unfamiliar with both author Stephen Jay Schwartz and his 2010 crime novel BEAT but when I stumbled across a copy at a local library book sale, I decided to risk one whole dollar and take a chance on what looked like an interesting book.
BEATis the second novel by Schwartz to feature LAPD robbery/homicide detective Hayden Glass. Having just finished (and thoroughly loving BEAT) I will definitely have to seek out a copy of the first book, BOULEVARD. In Hayden Glass, Schwartz has given us a different kind of detective hero. While there are plenty of novels featuring detectives with addiction problems (I'm thinking the Matt Scudder series by Lawrence Block in particular), I don't recall anyone having the guts to present us a hero with a sex addiction. Glass has one and it's a beast, a King Kong size monkey on his back.
Glass finds a beautiful young prostitute, Cora, on a website and begins an online relationship with her. His obsession with Cora soon leads him to meet her in person and their relationship deepens. Glass is truly, deeply in love with Cora (or so he tells himself) but Cora is the White Rabbit that leads Glass down a rabbit hole of brutal sex, Russian criminals and corrupt cops.
When Cora is beaten, raped and abducted before his eyes, Glass enters the San Francisco underworld of strip clubs, hookers, and peep shows in his quest to find and rescue his lovely young lover. Glass's obsession with both Cora and sex and the depiction of the seamy side of sex for hire recalls both TAXI DRIVER (1976) and HARDCORE (1979) (both of which were written by Paul Schrader, with Schrader directing the latter). Glass finds allies in Holbrook and Gunnar, two sympathetic SFPD uniformed cops and Abbey, a character from the previous novel, who now works in the San Francisco coroner's office. His enemies include Inspector Locatelli, a hard nosed cop determined to throw the book at Glass, two warring Russian brothers, both of whom control rather large empires of women and pornography, and FBI agent Caulfield, who is on the trail of corruption at the highest levels of the SFPD. The missing Cora, who witnessed a murder involving a city official, holds the key to the whole sordid puzzle and Glass will go to any lengths to find and save her. But when secrets about the young hooker are revealed, Glass is forced to question his real motives before finally finding solace in a real, genuine and loving relationship with Abbey.
Schwartz grabs you by the throat from the beginning and keeps the pedal to the metal throughout the whole twisty narrative. The action and sex is graphic and brutal and Glass is on the receiving end of more punishment (both physical and mental) than any one man could possibly withstand. But withstand he does, long enough to invade a fortress-like warehouse which houses a multitude of dark secrets in the blazing, action packed climax of the book.
Hayden Glass is one seriously fucked up dude but Schwartz finds the humanity and compassion buried beneath the layers of addiction and obsession and brings this flawed, beaten but never broken hero to bloody, vivid life. BEAT is not for the faint hearted and is definitely for adult readers. It's a dark trip into a grim netherworld that exists in cities all across America. Raw, brutal and unflinching, BEAT is highly recommended.
Bill Bryson's 2006 memoir, THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE THUNDERBOLT KID, about growing up in Des Moines, Iowa in the 1950s, is one of the funniest books I've ever read. We're talking laugh-out-loud, milk-spewing-out-of-your-nose funny. I read most of it on a plane flight to and from New Orleans and I'm sure many of my fellow passengers wished the guy with the window seat would stop braying like a jackass. If you haven't read THUNDERBOLT, you should do so by all means. Highly recommended.
Bryson's 2013 popular history ONE SUMMER: AMERICA 1927 came highly recommended and it's easy to see why. This rollicking, kaleidoscopic overview of the events and people of that long gone summer is full of rich, colorful stories, (some vignettes, some longer) that recount how that one long, wild, miraculous summer captured our collective imaginations then and now.
What's in it? A better question would be what's not. In over 400 pages of delightful, crisp, clean prose, Bryson vividly recounts the following: Babe Ruth hit sixty home runs, the Federal Reserve made the mistake that precipitated the stock market crash, Al Capone enjoyed his last summer of eminence, THE JAZZ SINGER was filmed, television was created, radio came of age, Sacco and Vanzetti were executed, President Coolidge chose not to run,work began on Mount Rushmore, the Mississippi River flooded as it never had before, a madman in Michigan blew up a school and killed forty-four people in the worst slaughter of children in American history, Henry Ford stopped making the Model T and promised to stop insulting Jews and a kid from Minnesota flew across an ocean and captivated the planet in a way it had never been captivated before.
All of these things and more are brought to life in ONE SUMMER. Bryson devotes more pages to Lindbergh and Ruth and their respective accomplishments than any other figures in the book but that's okay, given their monumental achievements. Bryson gives short shrift to legendary pulp fiction writer Edgar Rice Burroughs, a storyteller, who, despite his flaws, his still read today more than one hundred years since his first book was published. All in all, ONE SUMMER is a terrific read, entertaining, informative, funny in places, tragic in others.
But then there's this. In a recounting of how DRACULA was brought to the American stage, Bryson states: "It was also the making of Bela Lugosi, who devoted the rest of his career to playing Dracula. He starred in the 1931 movie and a great number of sequels. He also changed wives often-he was married five times-and became addicted to narcotics, but professionally he did almost nothing else for almost thirty years. Such was his devotion to the role that when he died in 1956, he was buried dressed as Count Dracula"
Where do I begin to address the lies in that paragraph? For starters, there was only one sequel to the 1931 DRACULA. It was DRACULA'S DAUGHTER (1936) and it did not star Lugosi. In fact, Lugosi only played Dracula on screen once more in ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET FRANKENSTEIN in 1948. As for doing "almost nothing else for almost thirty years", consider this partial filmography of some of Lugosi's best known horror films: MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE (1932), WHITE ZOMBIE (1932), ISLAND OF LOST SOULS (1932), THE BLACK CAT (1934), MARK OF THE VAMPIRE (1935), THE RAVEN (1935), THE INVISIBLE RAY (1936), SON OF FRANKENSTEIN (1939), THE WOLF MAN (1941), GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN (1942), FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF MAN (1943), RETURN OF THE VAMPIRE (1943), and THE BODY SNATCHER (1945). Lugosi made other low-budget, cheap horror films at various Poverty Row studios and ended up working with legendary filmmaker Ed Wood in his final years. And that's doing nothing?
Shame on you Bill Bryson for doing such a lazy, sloppy job of research. All of this information is just a click away. A few minutes of your time and you could have given your readers a fairer and much more accurate accounting of Lugosi's life and career. Granted, it's a small thing in the grand scheme of things but it bugs me to read something I know is wrong in a history book because it immediately puts everything else in the book, everything that I've been led to believe is correct, into doubt. If Bryson gets something like this wrong (and I know it's wrong because I'm a horror film fan), then what, pray tell, else did he get wrong in this otherwise fine book? Perhaps nothing, perhaps several things. It's hard to know for sure but one mistake, and such an egregious one as this, puts every word in ONE SUMMER into doubt.
While reading the book, I was prepared to give it a high recommendation as I really and truly enjoyed it. The Lugosi lies taint what is otherwise a worthwhile read. Read it at your own risk. Your knowledge of the various people and events in the book may be more than mine and you may find other errors.
When I was a kid, I was a huge fan of the original MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE television series. It ran on CBS from 1966 through 1973 and while I can't claim to have seen every episode, I sure watched a lot of them. I remember buying and reading the first MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE tie-in novel by John Tiger (a pen name, surely) in 1967. I received the soundtrack album featuring Lalo Schifrin's immortal theme music and other jazzy tracks for Christmas one year. I currently own the first two seasons on DVD. What made the show work were the insanely clever scripts that found the IMF executing an elaborate, intricate and perilous con each week, an operation laced with danger, suspense and split second timing. The cons employed a dizzying mix of disguises and high tech gadgets and, even though things often looked like the mission was in jeopardy of going south, the team always emerged victorious.
There wasn't a lot of action on the show, in fact, it was pretty light on fist fights, gun play, car chases and explosions. But it nevertheless managed to pack a giddy and visceral thrill into each episode thanks to the scripts, direction, editing, a brilliant cast and superlative guest stars and that unforgettable, pulse-quickening Schifrin score. It was the perfect spy show for a kid who was consumed with all things espionage during the '60s and '70s. I loved it.
The MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE film series, with Tom Cruise starring as agent Ethan Hunt, kicked off in 1996. The debut installment, directed by Brian De Palma, was much longer on action than the original series but it set the template for what was to follow and laid the groundwork for a successful film franchise which now numbers five (soon to be six) installments. I saw the first film but I have yet to see MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE 2 (2000), MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III (2006) or MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE: ROGUE NATION (2015). But I watched MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE: GHOST PROTOCOL (2011 and the fourth film in the series) the other day and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Brad Bird, who directed two of my all time favorite animated films, THE IRON GIANT (1999) and THE INCREDIBLES (2004) made his live-action directing debut with GHOST and he does a fine job. The story finds Hunt, William Brandt (Jeremy Renner), Benji Dunn (Simon Pegg) and Jane Carter (Paula Patton), cut off from any help from the U.S. government. Alone and with limited resources at their disposal, the IMF team is in a race against time to stop a madman from launching a Russian missile at San Francisco, a move which will trigger a worldwide nuclear war.
The action is fast and furious moving from Moscow to Dubai to a thrilling climax in Mumbai. The set pieces are breathtaking, the gadgets and technology border on science fiction while the villain seems to be always one step ahead of the team. But he's not one step ahead of Hunt. The mix of agents make a good team with Pegg providing comic relief, Patton the eye candy and Renner seeming to be a fish out of water as a State Department agent suddenly thrust into the mission. But as in every MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE story there's much more going on here than meets the eye and everything is not what it seems to be. Loaded with twists, turns, exotic locations and jaw-dropping action sequences, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE: GHOST PROTOCOL is a hold-your-breath spy thriller. Thumbs up.
I've been on a science fiction reading kick over the last month or so, specifically the science fiction of British Grand Master Arthur C. Clarke. I started this adventure by re-reading 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968). My first reading of this seminal book was in the fall of 1968. I was in the seventh grade at O. Henry Junior High School. I had seen the movie 2001 that summer with my buddy Blake Brown at the old Americana Theater (now an Austin public library). The movie had, to use the then current lexicon, "blown my mind", but the trouble was, I really didn't understand what it was all about. I bought the book and read it, then went back to the theater for a second viewing, an experience that was even more "mind blowing" since I had a much firmer grasp on what was going on.
Re-reading 2001 was like visiting an old friend. Written at the same time that Clarke and director Stanley Kubrick were working on the screenplay for the monumental film, the novel matches the film extremely well in most regards. There are scenes in the book that aren't in the movie and vice versa and even the scenes that appear in both aren't always exactly the same. Nonetheless, it's a solid novel, told in Clarke's clean, crisp prose.
THE MAKING OF 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, a trade paperback published in 2000, was next on my list. This is a collection of articles, essays, reviews and interviews that approach the film from several angles over the course of it's pre-production, production, release and place in cinematic history. All of the pieces are informative and entertaining and give a rounded perspective on the making of this landmark film. I must confess that I skipped over one of the reviews because it was written in such high falutin' "semiotic" nonsense that I couldn't begin to understand it.
Next, I re-read CHILDHOOD'S END (1953), which holds up remarkably well after more than 60 years. Arguably Clarke's greatest novel, I first read this one when I was in either junior high or high school (I forget which exactly but it was back there in my public schooling years). I loved the book then but reading it as an adult was an entirely different experience. The book starts with the appearance of immense alien star ships in the skies above several major world cities. The spacecraft belong to the Overlords, a benevolent, albeit mysterious alien race, which places the earth into a sort of protective custody. There are several surprises in store as the narrative progresses including the revelation of what the Overlords look like, their real mission, a voyage to their home planet by a human stowed away on one of their ships, cosmic vistas of unimaginable reach, power and scope and a sobering coda which provides several meanings to the words "childhood's end." CHILDHOOD'S END is a true science fiction masterpiece, a classic work of speculative fiction that should be on every one's must-read list whether you're a science fiction fan or not.
Finally, I read ASTOUNDING DAYS (1990). Sub-titled "A Science Fictional Autobiography", Clarke acts as tour guide through the history of the legendary and influential pulp sf magazine ASTOUNDING while at the same time providing us with his own abbreviated auto-biography. Clarke was a reader of ASTOUNDING from the beginning and the book details the magazine through the editorships of three key players in science fiction history: Harry Bates, F. Orlin Tremaine and the immortal John W. Campbell. Clarke will examine an issue, making note of a particular story (or stories) in each, which leads to a brief summary of that writer's career and work, the science involved in the story and how accurate or inaccurate it is and a reminiscence of when he first read the issue and where he was in his long career as a writer of science fiction and science fact. Written in a breezy, informal style, ASTOUNDING DAYS, gives a nice picture of both the man and the magazine and is full of mentions of stories and novels that I'm now anxious to track down and read.
Thumbs up on all four of these books with CHILDHOOD'S END a stand out as the must read of the group.
"Mrs. Peel, We're Needed"
I flat out love THE AVENGERS, the 1960s British television series about two of the greatest spy/crime fighters of the 20th century: John Steed and Emma Peel. As portrayed by Patrick Macnee and the criminally beautiful Diana Rigg, Steed and Mrs. Peel made the perfect pair of adventurers. The series was brilliantly written, with scripts mixing espionage, science fiction, death traps, martial arts, wicked humor and a delightfully effervescent chemistry between the two leads. Steed was suave, assured, debonair and always the gentleman (though far from a wimp). Mrs. Peel, decked out in various leather catsuits, was supremely capable, smart as a whip, quick with a quip and could hold her own in hand-to-hand combat with any foe. In short, THE AVENGERS was a true original, an utterly delightful slice of '60s pop culture and one of the best of the endless parade of spy/secret agent properties that blossomed in the wake of the worldwide success of James Bond.
BOOM! Studios has recently produced an ongoing STEED AND MRS. PEEL comic book series. I recently purchased the second trade paperback collection (published in 2013) of issues #4-7. Subtitled "The Secret History of Space", the volume finds Steed and Peel involved in a bizarre black and white ball for starters, an encounter that leads into a wonderfully outre two-parter in which they discover (literally) how "time flies". The final tale involves an epidemic of suicides in a small Welsh mining community.
All of the material by scripter Caleb Monroe perfectly captures the spirit and essence of the television series. The artwork, by Yasmin Liang, is serviceable enough but a bit cartoony. Nonetheless, the storytelling is clear and clean and the likenesses are, for the most part, spot on.
All in all, STEED AND MRS. PEEL: THE SECRET HISTORY OF SPACE, is a fun return to the world of two beloved characters. It's done with respect and admiration and a ton of charm. Thumbs up.
I haven't read any vintage Robert E. Howard material in quite awhile so what better way to start the new year than by tearing through this paperback volume of historical adventure stories. SWORD WOMAN (1979) with a cover by Ken Kelly and an introduction by the legendary Leigh Brackett (who knew a thing or two about heroic fantasy), is a mixed bag of stories with three tales spotlighting the exploits of Dark Agnes, the titular Sword Woman, while the remaining two entries are merely fragments of unfinished manuscripts, both of which provide tantalizing glimpses of what-could-have-been.
Dark Agnes begins her life as a peasant girl in medieval France. She's beaten and abused by her farmer father and when he arranges her wedding to an equally abusive lout, young Agnes rebels, slays her groom and escapes into the forest. She soon becomes a fearsome, sword wielding warrior woman whose adventures are told in three classic tales of pulp adventure: SWORD WOMAN, BLADES FOR FRANCE and MISTRESS OF DEATH. Only MISTRESS contains any supernatural elements (Howard's original manuscript was finished by Gerald W. Page) while all three tales feature plenty of sword play and derring-do. Dark Agnes was, of course, later reimagined by writer Roy Thomas and artist Barry Windsor Smith as Red Sonja in the pages of Marvel Comics' CONAN THE BARBARIAN.
The fragments are THE KING'S SERVICE and THE SHADOW OF THE HUN. In SERVICE, a Viking long ship arrives in a mythical Indian city where Celtic warrior Donn Othna joins forces with the mysterious Constantius, ruler of both the city and all women who come under his spell. SHADOW finds another Celtic freebooter, Turlogh O'Brien falling in with a rag tag army of Slavs against the superior forces of Turkish warlord Khogar Khan.
The material in SWORD WOMAN is far from Howard's best work but even lesser Howard material is better than many other author's best work. The man could flat out tell a story like few other pulp wordsmiths then or now. These stories ring with the sounds of striking swords and are full to bursting with the romance of time lost lands and kingdoms to be won (or lost) by the strong sword arms of daring men and women. Thumbs up.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a strong entry, if not the actual winner of, the 2018 sweepstakes for worst film of the year. This new year is still only hours old but it's hard to imagine that I'll see any other film in the coming twelve months that could possibly approach this film's level of sheer awfulness.
DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! (1975), should instead be entitled DON'T ANSWER THE PHONE as it is by phone call that most of the "horror'" in this turkey takes place. Better yet, let's call it DON'T WATCH THIS MOVIE! and you'll have me to thank for taking one for the team.
The film starts with a creepy East Texas judge (Gene Ross), who, inexplicably, lives in a detached railroad car parked in downtown Jefferson, badgering his abused wife into calling young Amanda Post (Susan Bracken) and demanding that she return to town to see about her sick grandmother. Flashback to 1962, 13 years earlier, when Amanda's mother is murdered by a knife wielding intruder while young Amanda appears to be molested by the killer. Now a grown woman, Amanda arrives at her grandmother's massive old mansion to find it populated by her dying grandmother and Judge Semple, the suspect Dr. Crawther (Jim Harrell) and a decidedly weird museum curator, Claude Kearn (Larry O'Dwyer). Judge Semple and Claude both want the house for their own reasons and it quickly becomes obvious that one of these creeps is secretly hiding out somewhere in the house, constantly calling Amanda on the phone and making whispered, sexually suggestive threats and demands to her. Who could this insane pervert be? It's not hard to figure out, given that the caller is shown wearing wire-rimmed glasses and only one of these doofuses wear glasses.
Sure enough, Claude (raise your hand if you had him in the office pool), is revealed to be the killer when he, for no apparent reason, dispatches Dr. Crawther with a hammer to the head in the museum one night. Oh yeah, Claude's dressed like a doll during this scene. The judge is the next to be killed and then Amanda, driven crazy by Claude's taunting, takes a club to the head of good-guy doctor Nick (Hugh Feagin). Having killed the only person who might have saved her, Amanda is left alone in the house with the lunatic Claude. She's shown laughing hysterically while a telephone dominates the foreground before the film mercifully fades to black.
The screenplay, by Frank Schaefer and Kerry Newcomb, is about as solid as a loaf of bread and S.F. Brownrigg's direction is made up of far too many tight close ups and inept crane shots. The whole production looks terrible, with a washed out, grainy look and scenes that alternate between over and under exposed. It's no exaggeration to say that I've seen better production values in a porno movie.
Filmed entirely on location in Jefferson, Texas, DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! smacks of a local production backed by business people in the city as an investment opportunity. Cheap to make, it was sure to earn back it's cost and turn a slight profit on the drive-in and grind house circuit where the film was exhibited. The cast appears to have been selected from the local community theater and every one who appears on camera is absolutely terrible. DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! could have provided some cheap, sleazy thrills but the amateur, hey-kids-let's-make-a-movie-in-the-old-house-downtown feel to the film makes it a sad waste of time.