Re-Kindling Interest: Different Strokes: How I (Gulp!) Wrote, Directed, and Starred in an X-Rated Movie by Lawrence Block writing as John Warren Wells

This is one of a series of reviews focusing on out-of-print works that have become available again via a variety of e-book formats.

In 1973, at the height of the mainstream pornography heyday, with films even now considered classics of the style (Deep Throat, The Devil in Miss Jones) playing alongside other Hollywood fare, author Lawrence Block was hired to write a similar film that would have "a real script and a good cast and wide distribution." (Something author Terry Southern predicted in his novel Blue Movie.) The film was to be titled Different Strokes, but things didn't quite work out and it was never made.

But, as part of the deal, Block had arranged with his publisher to document the production in a book that would also include the screenplay and interviews — "for some subsidiary income [since] I wasn't going to be getting much actual cash for [the script]" — and publish it under Block's sexual-behaviors pseudonym, John Warren Wells.

Neither saw a reason why they couldn't go ahead with that part.

The result, Different Strokes: How I (Gulp!) Wrote, Directed, and Starred in an X-Rated Movie, is almost entirely fiction. (Some of it based on actual events that occurred before the production was cancelled.) But, according to Block's afterword in Different Strokes, "that was easy enough. It was fiction, and I'd been writing fiction for years. I liked fiction. You weren't tied down by facts."

And if there's something Lawrence Block is great at, it's fiction. I've been a fan of his for a couple of decades now, and Different Strokes has the same voice, humor, and skill at characterization and storytelling that have made him a best-seller since the 1980s.

His work from before that period is generally of the same quality; it has just been hard to acquire due to its often being hidden under a variety of pseudonyms. But now that Block has begun digitally releasing back-catalog works like Different Strokes: How I (Gulp!) Wrote, Directed, and Starred in an X-Rated Movie — and giving some away on Orange Wednesdays at his blog — it's going to be much easier to find a high-quality Lawrence Block book to read whenever I want one.

Torture Garden directed by Freddie Francis (starring Peter Cushing, Burgess Meredith, Jack Palance)

Torture Garden (1967). Screenplay by Robert Bloch, based on his short stories "Enoch," "Terror Over Hollywood," "Mr. Steinway," and "The Man Who Collected Poe."

Horror and carnivals: how long have these two been connected?  In any case, Torture Garden — a horror anthology film based on short stories written by Robert Bloch (who also wrote the screenplay, adding the wraparound story that ties them all together) — begins with a barker inviting us into the show.  

"You'll shriek, you'll shudder, you'll shiver," he promises.  "But it's all in fun and no harm done."

We pay our half-crown and enter the realm of Dr. Diabolo (Burgess Meredith, looking reminiscent of his turn as the Penguin on TV's Batman).  His private exhibit offers patrons a look at their potential future, and the possible manner of their death if they give in to their inner evil.

The first story, loosely based on Bloch's 1946 Weird Tales story "Enoch," involves a man's search for his uncle's gold stash.  What he uncovers instead is a devil cat with a hunger for human heads.  Michael Bryant is somehow believable as a man under feline mind control, and the closeups of the cat's eyes help it along.

Next comes an adaptation of "Terror Over Hollywood" from Fantastic Universe in 1957, centering on an actress (Beverly Adams) who sabotages her roommate's date with a Hollywood bigwig to take advantage of it herself ... and gets in way over her head when she sticks her nose where it doesn't belong.  Adams is good as an overly ambitious starlet, but the story derails when it veers off into science-fiction territory.

The starlet's best friend (Barbara Ewing) is up next as a reporter who interviews a concert pianist (John Standing) then falls in love with him — much to the consternation of his piano, a jealous embodiment of the musical goddess Euterpe.  This silly conceit (originated in "Mr. Steinway," Bloch's feature in the April 1954 issue of Fantastic) is not helped by the predictable narrative, though the piano is suitably menacing.  ("She" also gives the best performance in this section.)

Finally, after standing around with a pipe in his teeth for over an hour, Jack Palance utters his first words as Ronald Wyatt, an Edgar Allan Poe fanatic who gets very excited when he finds that the collection of fellow Poe aficionado Lancelot Canning (Peter Cushing) also includes the famous author himself. 

Author Bloch was a huge Poe fan in his own right — he was the first to complete the one known incomplete work, "The Lighthouse" — and this knowledge adds to the verisimilitude of the story, based on "The Man Who Collected Poe" from Famous Fantastic Mysteries in 1951.  Also a plus is Palance, who is cast against type as an anxious, bookish type.

Much like Bloch's novels from the era, the stories in Torture Garden combine his talent for eerieness with a tongue-in-cheek approach that is not afraid to court the ridiculous in the name of a well-told story.  Those not familiar with Bloch's work may use Tales from the Crypt as a comparison (also directed by Freddie Francis and featuring Peter Cushing), though it came out five years later.

In addition to the stories mentioned above, the movie also features the goddess Atropos and her shears.  She (Clytie Jessop) appears in a different manifestation in each tale (really the only thing other than the wraparound that ties them together), and even the wraparound has a twist.  Torture Garden is by no means a classic, but it is definitely a good, fun time for those who enjoy horror anthology films.

The Last Lullaby directed by Jeffrey Goodman (starring Tom Sizemore and Sasha Alexander)

The Last Lullaby (2009). Screenplay by Max Allan Collins and Peter Biegen, expanding on Collins's Quarry short story "A Matter of Principal."

Fans of Max Allan Collins's Quarry character have been waiting for a movie starring their favorite hired killer since he debuted in the 1970s. It took thirty years, but it's worth it. The Last Lullaby is here, and it's definitely a Quarry film, though the lead character isn't named "Quarry" (Collins wants to retain the rights to the name, so filmmakers can't make "sequels" without his input).

Retired killer Price (Tom Sizemore), on one of a string of sleepless nights, drives to a nearby convenience store and follows two suspicious characters to a kidnapping site, where he rescues the victim ... sort of. Six months later, he's offered $1 million for one last job: kill a librarian with ex-boyfriend troubles. But he gets emotionally involved, which puts them both in danger.

Collins's Quarry short story "A Matter of Principal" (upon which the first part of The Last Lullaby is based) was made into a short film by director Jeffrey Goodman. (This short film is available on the DVD Shades of Noir, available in the Max Allan Collins's Black Box DVD set.) Collins liked the short so much, he allowed Goodman to expand it into a feature, provided Collins was involved in the scripting.

An early draft of Collins's initial script was novelized by the author and published as part of the Hard Case Crime line as The Last Quarry. Readers of that novel will find a similar tone and characters but some significant differences made in turning the story into a mainstream (if independent) film. For example, co-screenwriter Peter Biegen was evidently brought in to punch up the love story. (Collins's novelized version is much tougher.)

What really makes The Last Lullaby work, however, are the lead performances by Sizemore and Sasha Alexander, who plays the librarian. Tom Sizemore's stony countenance betrays selective emotions, letting his eyes do the acting. And Sasha Alexander (Rizzoli & Isles) is an intelligent beauty with her own secrets.

A veteran of mostly television work, Alexander holds her own opposite Sizemore, and one hopes that The Last Lullaby allows her to possibly break out from the small screen. Goodman understands human drama and the complexities of male-female relationships and lets this carry the viewer along as events conspire against the couple.

Sizemore gets to show his tender side as one half of a potential couple of loners who aren't young anymore and really want to impress each other. Both actors bring incredible sexual magnetism. At the same time, it's incredibly sweet to see a romance between two such people treated with realism and delicacy, making The Last Lullaby a surprisingly good option for a date movie, even given its unremittingly dark storyline.

Horror scholarship makes paying for school less frightening!

In honor of the beginning of October, the scariest month of the year, I thought I'd mention an interesting piece of news that was shared with me. Star Costumes has developed and is now offering a $1,000 scholarship to eligible students who are "studying in a field designed to prepare them for work in the horror industry."

This could include anyone from aspiring directors and screenwriters to those looking to work in make-up or set design — even a film critic (criticism being, of course, near and dear to my own heart). All that's required is to fill out the application form and write a 300- to 400-word essay about your inspirations, goals, and accomplishments.

There is no application fee. But the deadline is October 31st, which will be here before you know it. If horror is your field of study, you may be especially busy this month, so for more information (or to get started right away!), just click on the logo to be taken to the appropriate page.

In spite of my cheesy subject line, I think this is a great opportunity Star Costumes is offering. So be sure to let us here at Somebody Dies know if this announcement led to your receiving the scholarship. We'll be cheering you on!

Frames: a Valentino mystery by Loren D. Estleman

Valentino is an archivist with UCLA's film preservation department. Looking for a new place to live, his realtor shows him an old movie house up for sale. When he finds a cache of twenty-four film cans labeled Greed, it seals the deal. Valentino just may have discovered the Holy Grail of silent film on his hands: the original, full-length 8- (or 10-) hour cut of Erich von Stroheim's masterpiece (basically a filming of Frank Norris's classic novel McTeague in its entirety).

Needing help with the possibly volatile silver nitrate stock, he approaches his mentor, Professor Broadhead, who loans Valentino his intern, a junior copyright-law student named Fanta. When they look deeper into Valentino's new home, the trio locate a walled-off hidden room containing a Prohibition liquor stash and eighteen more film cans.

Oh, there's also a dead body, but reporting the death would make the theater a crime scene, and make the film evidence, endangering its longevity. So, they try to hide the film from the police. But when the investigating detective learns of its existence, she gives Valentino three days to make a copy on safety stock, or she'll send a cruiser to pick up the film — and him, for obstructing justice.

Three days isn't nearly enough time to do the job, literally impossible given that each frame of the forty-two reels has to be copied individually, so the only other option left to Valentino, Broadhead, and Fanta is to solve the case themselves in the next seventy-two hours. (The "film detective" gets to try on some real gumshoes.) Meanwhile, Valentino is being visited by the ghost of Erich von Stroheim, who is rather determined that his kindling be saved.

While author Loren D. Estleman's P.I. Amos Walker's adventures fall solidly on the hard-boiled end of the mystery spectrum, Frames tends toward the opposite, "cozy," end. There's only one murder, and it happens fifty years before the story begins. In fact, Valentino, Broadhead, and Fanta will be lucky to discover if the murderer is still alive! But classic film fans will eat this one up: Estleman has loaded his characters' dialogue with film trivia and fascinating information about film preservation, including the five stages of decomposition of silver nitrate film stock (the source of the moniker "silver screen").

This otherwise laid-back undertaking (apart from the suspense involved in whether the film will survive the storytelling) results in an emotionally intense denouement (at least as performed by William Dufris in the audiobook version of Frames) that is a surprise given all that happened before. With the addition of a romantic subplot with a crime scene investigator, the book is quite a pleasant and educational read, and I'm already looking forward to the next book in the series, Alone.

Caveman: V.T. Hamlin & Alley Oop written and directed by Max Allan Collins (comic strip documentary)

Before watching Caveman: V.T. Hamlin & Alley Oop, my knowledge of the comic-strip cave-dweller was limited to the hit single by the Argyles (with a few additional raunchy lyrics I heard from my dad). But Max Allan Collins has produced quality indie-film work in the past — mostly crime-genre films like Mommy and Real Time but also another documentary, Mike Hammer's Mickey Spillane — so my interest was definitely piqued.

Caveman (originally shown at special screenings and on PBS affiliates) combines Collins's nearly career-long work in comics and his passion for independent filmmaking. Collins wrote Dick Tracy for 15 years, created Ms. Tree, and wrote the original Road to Perdition graphic novel. (He finally meshed comics and mystery novels in books like Strip for Murder.)

Collins was first intrigued by Vincent Trout Hamlin when he discovered that the artist was a fellow Iowan. To this Midwestern kid aspiring to a career in writing, knowing that someone else nearby had made a success of it provided a boost of confidence.

Caveman approaches its subject, and to a lesser extent comics in general, from the viewpoint of the uninitiated. Narrator Michael Cornelison (Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life) gently delves into the history of Alley Oop for the benefit of neophytes, tracing comics (aptly enough) from their beginnings on cave walls.

The film touches on Hamlin's beginnings and covers his life and that of his creation through his huge success, his antagonistic relationship with his assistant (Dave Graue, who would eventually take over the strip), Hamlin's eventual death, and how Alley Oop has carried on into the modern day through the writing and artistry of husband-and-wife team Jack and Carole Bender.

Following on the success of films like The Lost World, Hamlin created Alley Oop as an alternative to popular futuristic strips like Buck Rodgers. Caveman even suggests that Hamlin was responsible for getting modern children interested in dinosaurs by including factual information along with the entertainment, and he also used the platform to introduce kids to other historical figures like Shakespeare and Cleopatra through his use of time-travel storylines.

A documentary is made in the editing room, and Caveman skillfully splices interviews and narration with still photos to great effect. The interviews are the real meat for viewers and comics fans and include talks with Graue and the Benders, along with Will Eisner (creator of The Spirit), George Hagenauer (Collins's long-time research associate), Russell Myers (Broom Hilda), Teddy Dewalt (Hamlin's daughter, who doesn't shy away from her father's faults), Stan Sakai, Sergio Aragonés, and many others offering wonderful insight from the perspective of the industry. (Collins took his camera to the San Diego Comic Con and was thus able to get a lot of material for relatively little money.)

Under all this great material is a flows an appropriately upbeat rock score by composer Chris Christensen. Also featured throughout is a new Alley Oop song with music by Christensen and lyrics by Collins.

The extras on the Caveman DVD are numerous, with probably the most spectacular one being the 45-minute interview with Will Eisner, where he discourses on comics, history, the educational use of what he calls "sequential art," The Spirit, and his own influences among other various subjects. This was the last on-camera interview Eisner gave of any length, so it's a special keepsake for comics fans.

Also included are two commentaries, one by Collins and another by Jack and Carole Bender; a morning show feature on/interview with the Benders; and a nearly hour-long panel discussion (filmed around the time of release of Collins's novel Red Sky in Morning) celebrating Alley Oop's 75th anniversary. (Caveman was also shown that day.) The panel includes Collins, the Benders, and producer Mark Lambert. They go into some detail on the making of the documentary, including some problems and other information that will interest those curious about the behind-the-scenes process of independent filmmaking.

Collins obviously has a real affection for the material (he also calls it his "secret biography of Chester Gould"), and this comes through in the viewing. Fans of Collins, Hamlin, Eisner, comics in general, documentaries, or just a well-told story should give Caveman: V.T. Hamlin & Alley Oop a look.

Halloween Week: The Collingswood Story directed by Michael Costanza (starring Stephanie Dees, Johnny Burton, Diane Behrens)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2003. Reprinted with permission.

The Collingswood Story (2002). Screenplay by Michael Costanza.

Note: With all the buzz surrounding the newest microbudget horror film Paranormal Activity, I thought this was a good time to bring some more attention to another film that didn't get much attention when it came out, but that is equally successful at a similar ambition: to be both thrifty and scary.

It has been a long time since a horror film actually scared me. I grew up watching them, so apart from the occasional disturbing image, it is rare for a film to have a physical effect on me. I've just seen too many. The last one to do so was The Blair Witch Project in 1999, and then The Collingswood Story did it — it actually gave me goosebumps, which I was certainly not expecting.

Winner of "Best Indie Film" at the 2002 Horror Review Awards, The Collingswood Story concerns Rebecca (Stephanie Dees), who has left her hometown — and her boyfriend, John (Johnny Burton) — behind to go to college in Collingswood, New Jersey. For her birthday, John sets them both up with "phone cams" so they can communicate with each other. Phone cams are presented as identical to Web cams with one important difference: you have to dial the person's telephone number in order to contact them.

Collingswood starts off gently, with John and Rebecca talking to each other about their relationship, the distance, and the insecurities it brings up. Having experienced a long-distance relationship myself, it was easy to identify with the situation and the characters' feelings.

That same night, John phones his friend, Billy (Grant Edmonds), who seems to exist only to provide some sophomoric comic relief, and the phone cam number of various phone cam "freaks," including an elderly exotic dancer. Also on this list of gag calls is psychic-for-hire Vera Madeline (Diane Behrens), whom John recommends Rebecca call on a lark.

When Rebecca calls Vera, she finds out more than she expected. Vera knows all about the town of Collingswood and its past, including a series of cult-related murders orchestrated by their leader, Alan Tashi, and a particularly gruesome set that occurred in the house where Rebecca is staying.

From here on, The Collingswood Story provides quite a ride.

Rebecca's laptop allows portability (courtesy of an extra-long phone cord), so viewers are treated to shots of different rooms in the house as well as her recordings of trips around Collingswood searching for the infamous Lees Lane and the home of Alan Tashi. The portability also allows her to climb into the darkness of the attic and broadcast to John as she searches for evidence of the murders. This climactic scene is a 20-minute crescendo into terror. The fact that we pretty much know what to expect and are still carried along makes writer/director Michael Costanza's feat all the more admirable.

The Collingswood Story is the kind of film that thrives on a small budget. The inability to show violence (due to expense) is part of the draw because what happens is unseen and all the scarier. Consider the following titles: Psycho, Halloween, Blair Witch — all movies made on the cheap, and yet always in the top of fright fans' favorites lists in terms of scariness.

It is most often in the scripts that the quality lies. And The Collingswood Story is certainly no slouch in that department. Costanza has captured simple and natural dialogue, allowing the actors to give fully realistic performances, and a plot that flows directly from the characters' actions.

Costanza has managed to gather a terrific cast. Diane Behrens' role as Vera Madeline is the film's main source of information, and Behrens' performance is key to its credibility. Stephanie Dees as Rebecca is adorable and engaging. Her role is the heart of the film and without her complete believability, none of the rest of The Collingswood Story would stick.

Johnny Burton is solid in his supportive role, eliciting sympathy in his eventual helplessness. Even the phone cam ecdysiast is funny for his short time onscreen. Grant Edmonds' turn as Billy is the only real setback, as he tries for complete obnoxiousness and thus eschews all subtlety. The contrast to the others is painfully noticeable, but he is fortunately onscreen little.

All these factors combine in making what is bound to become one of the great indie fright flicks — certainly the best I've seen lately. Though the ending has struck some as confusing and/or unbelievable, it worked for me. Simply put, if it's been a long time since a movie affected you the way a horror film is supposed to, give The Collingswood Story a try.

The Dark Knight directed by Christopher Nolan (starring Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, Aaron Eckhart, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, Maggie Gyllenhaal)

The Dark Knight (2008). Screenplay by Christopher Nolan and Jonathan Nolan, from a story by Christopher Nolan and David S. Goyer and characters by Bob Kane.

I never intended to review this movie — or, originally, even see it. It's just one more in the constant string of superhero films constantly fed out by Hollywood. But then The Dark Knight became one of the highest-grossing films of all time, and was suddenly declared the best film of all time by Internet Movie Database voters, and I just had to see what all the fuss was about and have my say.

Because it's simply not all that. Other than a riveting — probably a great — performance by the late Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight has little going for it besides the expected high production values and some interesting directorial choices by Christopher Nolan (particularly during the lengthy chase sequence).

Christian Bale has proven his acting abilities in numerous other films, but — and this is the main problem with every film featuring the Caped Crusader — he is given nothing to do here but react to events caused by the villains and the other characters. In a movie called "The Dark Knight," shouldn't the focus be on Batman? Just call this movie "The Joker" and be done with it because, really, even Two-Face (Aaron Eckhart) is mostly forgotten by the time the credits roll.

[Does no one else think it's a problem that role of Rachel Dawes (played by Katie Holmes in Batman Begins) was taken over by Maggie Gyllenhaal and, not only can you hardly tell but it also seems like an improvement? And what happened to Gary Oldman? He had challenging roles in the early 1990s, but here he mostly looks lost and confused while trying to look focused and determined.]

To me, the huge success and unabashed acclaim of The Dark Knight is merely a symptom of the generally poor entertainment being produced by Hollywood these days. When someone comes out with a movie that is better than average, it is instantly hailed as a modern classic. And that's just sad.

Lake Placid directed by Steve Miner (starring Bridget Fonda, Bill Pullman, Oliver Platt, Brendan Gleeson, Betty White)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2003. Reprinted with permission.

Lake Placid (1999). Screenplay by David E. Kelley.

This is a horror film. No, wait, let me reword that. This film is a horror.

Lake Placid is an attempt to bring humor into the "something in the water" genre, thereby mixing Jaws (or Piranha or Alligator) with Scream.

Unfortunately, scribe David E. Kelley and director Steve Miner don't play by the rules and end up with a film that is worse than the worst in the genre. Perhaps Kelley was too far from his home turf — the courtroom — to be able to pull off a passable entertainment. As it is, Lake Placid is merely a frustrating timewaster.

Bill Pullman is a local game warden and Bridget Fonda is a paleontologist (as if!) out to study the appearance of a giant Asian crocodile in Maine. (I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt that this is intended to be part of the joke.)

The audience knows from the beginning that Pullman and Fonda are destined to end up together because for the bulk of the movie they so adorably refuse to get along. In addition, their names are above the title, so they are guaranteed to survive the film. This saps away any suspense surrounding anything they do. And all attempts at humor fall flat.

But if the movie's not funny, at least we can revel in the action of the kills, right? Well, no. "Lake Flaccid" is wimpy even in its body count. How are we supposed to believe that this crocodile is particularly dangerous if it doesn't even have the intelligence to see that the annoying professor played by Oliver Platt is chewing up more scenery than the crocodile is, and, as competition, should be instantly done away with? I actually figured him to be snuffed out right after the pilot, who, I believe, is only the second person eaten. Alas, our friend the flyboy (director Miner himself) is also the last person to be granted entry into the gullet.

Frankly, I expected better from Steve Miner, who helmed two installments of the Friday the 13th series and also Halloween: H20. Apparently his interceding work on such "crowd-pleasing" fluff as Forever Young and My Father the Hero has softened his sensibilities.

The film's best moments come from veteran comic actress Betty White as a local woman who won't leave the area despite the "terror" taking place around her. But she can't save the film from being an argument for the recycling of celluloid. There's a surprise at the end which makes us look at her character in a whole new way, but even that doesn't make Lake Placid what I would call "interesting" ... or "entertaining" ... or "watchable"...

...or anything else mildly pleasant.

My Bloody Valentine 3-D (2009) directed by Patrick Lussier (starring Jaime King, Kerr Smith, Jensen Ackles, Betsy Rue)

My Bloody Valentine 3-D (2009). Shown in both 2-D and 3-D theaters. Screenplay by Todd Farmer and Zane Smith, based on the 1981 screenplay by John Beiard from a story by Stephen Miller.

Any remake of a classic slasher film (as much as one can be called "classic") can go one way or another: the current filmmakers will either simply rehash the old one, or they may take the high road and add original touches. Either way, fans of the first one will talk about the differences, while those unaware that there was another one will get to take the movie on its own terms. I'm happy to report that My Bloody Valentine 3-D (a 2009 remake of 1981's My Bloody Valentine) is one of the good ones.

Of course, "good" in this case is a relative term. The dialogue is trite and laughable in most of the early scenes but screenwriters Todd Farmer (Jason X) and Zane Smith have taken the story from the original in new directions, making the characters older and adding more mature plot elements while director Patrick Lussier updates the whole thing to the current "tense, suspenseful, and very bloody" style of recent films like Hostel and Saw.

Harry Warden was the only survivor of a mine explosion in the small town of Harmony. After recovering from his coma, he went on a murder spree that included the killing of a bunch of teenagers who thought partying in the old mine was a good idea. Ten years later, the killings start again, just as a prodigal son returns, putting him at the forefront. Is he responsible? Or has Harry Warden simply come back from the dead?

Protagonists Kerr Smith and Jaime King are surprisingly believable as Axel and Sarah Palmer, world-weary working-class parents, she the owner of the local grocery store, he the town sheriff having an affair with her stock clerk Megan (Megan Boone). Jensen Ackles is less effective in his large, important role as Tom Hanniger, the reluctant owner of the mine and the current prime suspect for the murders. He seems to have only two expressions: hangdog and menacing.

Though the ending is telegraphed from the opening scene, My Bloody Valentine 3-D does a fairly good job of keeping the viewer in doubt about the identity of the killer. And the special effects are stellar, with a variety of gruesome set pieces that exceed anything I've seen recently. The movie really earns its R rating, with heavy doses of sex and violence.

Interestingly, though the lengthy scene of full nudity featuring actress Betsy Rue may seem exploitative to some, it actually gives the actress quite a showcase as she dominates the screen for that entire amount of time, resulting in one of the film's few truly memorable (and most talked about) scenes. It will likely give her the exposure (pun intended) needed to further her career — so who's exploiting who? (Incidentally, the trucker who instigates this scene is played by co-screenwriter Todd Farmer.) Similarly, the role of the motel owner did not have to go to 3'10" actress Selene Luna, so I have to applaud the filmmakers for their creative casting in what could have been a role display of the same old faces.

Even in a 2-D theater, the 3-D aspects of My Bloody Valentine 3-D were a lot of fun, like the rest of the movie. (This is important since only a third of theaters are actually showing it in 3-D.) The visual effects team really earned their money on this one. A couple of scenes (one in particular involving a jawbone) elicited actual guttural sounds from my companion and me, neither of whom have seen a horror movie in a theater since Halloween: H20 in 1998. Coincidentally, that film was edited by this film's director, Patrick Lussier, an experienced editor of other horror films like the Scream trilogy — he also co-edited this one — so it's obvious he knows how to literally assemble a slasher enterprise by putting all the pieces in the right order.

Christmas Crime: Three Days of the Condor directed by Sydney Pollack (starring Robert Redford, Faye Dunaway, Max von Sydow, Cliff Robertson, John Houseman)

Three Days of the Condor (1975). Screenplay by Lorenzo Semple, Jr., and David Rayfiel from the book Six Days of the Condor by James Grady.

Joseph Turner (Robert Redford once again as the all-American) gets to read for a living, analyzing texts for the CIA through the cover of the "American Literary Historical Society." When it's his turn to go out for everybody's lunch, he comes back to find them all dead.

From then on, Turner (code name "Condor") is on the run — from the killers and from the government — with only photographer Kathy (striking Faye Dunaway) his only, albeit reluctant, ally.

Setting Three Days of the Condor during the Christmas season does little to bring tidings of comfort and joy. But the script by Lorenzo Semple, Jr. (The Parallax View) and David Rayfiel — and the direction of Sydney Pollack (his fourth of seven collaborations with Redford) — deliver the right amounts of post-Watergate paranoia and intrigue.

As an enigmatic professional killer, Max von Sydow heads an impressive supporting cast that also features Cliff Robertson and John Houseman. (Keep an eye out for von Sydow's code name. It is a nice little in-joke connected to his appearance in The Exorcist.) The result in a fun thriller that, while very tied to its period, also reminds us that the priorities of the government have been the same for a long time.

21 directed by Robert Luketic (starring Jim Sturgess, Kevin Spacey, Laurence Fishburne, Kate Bosworth)

21 (2008). Screenplay by Peter Steinfeld and Allan Loeb from the book Bringing Down the House by Ben Mezrich.

Ben Campbell (Jim Sturgess) is a brilliant MIT student on his way to Harvard Medical School. He's already been accepted, but the money is an issue. Ben is up for a full scholarship, but so are 76 other people, and he has spent so much time studying, he's had little opportunity for the "life experience" the scholarship board seeks from that one "dazzling" candidate that deserves the $300,000 free ride.

So, when his Nonlinear Equations professor, Mickey Rosa (Kevin Spacey), recruits him to his team of other brilliant students to count cards in Las Vegas casinos, he reluctantly accepts — on the condition that once he's earned the three-hundred grand, he's out.

Spacey is electric as Professor Rosa, but it's Sturgess's work as Ben Campbell that grounds this flight of fancy in reality. He is instantly likable, and his troubles are relatable, even though few people have actually experienced them. Laurence Fishburne also has a nice turn as ultra-intimidating security man Cole Williams, a man who does whatever it takes to keep his job in an increasingly computer-controlled arena.

Though it's supposedly based on a true story, 21 is pure Hollywood all the way. From its underprivileged hero given the opportunity of a lifetime, to its instant inclusion of the hero's dream love interest (here Kate Bosworth), to how Ben drops his geek friends once he gets the chance to hang out with cooler people, to how the student surpasses the teacher.

The first portion of the movie is so predictable, in fact — and so spelled-out for the general audience — that it's a struggle just to get through to the interesting portion: the actual Vegas scenes. As a whole, however, 21 is a lot of fun, and I was surprised at how much I thought about it after it was over, especially that insipid but catchy phrase, "Winner, winner, chicken dinner."

Horror Is Not a 4-Letter Word by Matthew Warner (horror essays)

Subtitled Essays on Writing and Appreciating the Genre, short story writer and novelist Matthew Warner's first collection of nonfiction, Horror Is Not a 4-Letter Word, is ideal reading during the month best known for ending with Halloween. And it's a must-have for fans of the horror genre.

In these articles that span from 2002 to 2007 — with all but two coming from the author's tenure as a columnist for Horror World — Warner covers a variety of diverse topics from horror stereotypes (and why we need them) to the importance of research for verisimilitude, from why Buffy the Vampire Slayer is an example of excellent plotting to the secrets of a successful collaboration, from how to write "invisible" dialogue to tips on public speaking.

Warner even gives new readers a taste of his short fiction ("With the Eyes of God") and then shows how he got there. (Those whose appetites are whetted can seek out Death Sentences, his short fiction collection). Horror Is Not a 4-Letter Word also contains a critique of Left Behind from the horror writer's perspective, one essay each focusing on the subjects of his two novels to date (The Organ Donor and Eyes Everywhere), a lengthy exposé on his summer working for notorious "book doctor" Edit Ink, and even insightful articles on censorship and the connection between horror and violence.

Warner has an engaging conversational style that makes even the most indepth material go down easy. But I'm not sure I can bestow a greater compliment than the fact that reading Horror Is Not a 4-Letter Word is the first time I've almost been late for work because of essays. As I finished one, the next one's title intrigued me to continue. Kudos to the author and Guide Dog Books for assembling a collection of horror-related articles that are just as accessible to the horror reader as to those who want to write in the genre — and is far more readable than others of its ilk.

Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life directed by Max Allan Collins (starring Michael Cornelison)

Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life (2007). Screenplay by Max Allan Collins from his Edgar Allan Poe Award–nominated play of the same name.

On May 16, 1957, the last night of his life, Eliot Ness receives a call from Oscar Fraley (his co-author or ghostwriter on The Untouchables, depending on whom you believe) about the galleys of the "upcoming" book. When the phone call is over, he begins telling his life story.

If there's a single author I would call the expert on Eliot Ness, it would be Max Allan Collins. Collins has been researching and writing fiction featuring Ness since the 1980s (longer if you consider that Dick Tracy, the daily comic strip Collins wrote from 1977 to 1992, was inspired by Ness): he has appeared in four novels as the main characters (The Dark City, etc., chronicling his time as Cleveland Safety Director), at least three novels in Collins's Nathan Heller series, Road to Perdition and its sequel Road to Purgatory, and probably a few others I have yet to encounter (I've only been a fan since 2004).

My point is, Collins has been putting historically accurate (and character-appropriate) words in Ness's mouth for 25 years, so who better to write Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life, a one-man show starring the man most famous for sending Al "Snorky" Capone to Alcatraz?

In fact, when I read that Collins was going to write a career retrospective of Ness, the only surprise was that it was going to be on the stage, an area I believe was new to the novelist and independent-film director. (But since a short film was produced to raise money for the project, it was only a matter of time before it would return to the screen.) Mounted in the Des Moines Playhouse in August 2005, Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life was reportedly shot during the week, using the theater set, while the play itself was performed for audiences on weekends.

Relative unknown Michael Cornelison, an experienced stage and film actor who has appeared in several Collins-directed features and short films (see The Black Box Collection) inhabits Ness fully, never allowing a single doubt to creep in the viewer's mind that this is in fact the man telling his own story. Collins's conversational script also helps with the illusion. And, also acting as director, Collins keeps this potentially "stagy" venture visually interesting.

Two quibbles: the electric piano and theremin in the score by Mark A. Johnson are sometimes distracting, as is Ness's continual removing and replacing of his coat and hat, especially early on. Cornelison moves from set to set depending on the story he's telling, and — while this keeps the atmosphere of each portion authentic — I sometimes wanted him to just sit still and talk for a change. An individual with a good story to tell is endlessly fascinating, and after a while, I got so involved in the story that I didn't notice the motion anymore.

The combination of historical accuracy, Collins's roll-off-the-tongue prose, and Cornelison's engaging personality and character immersion make Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life a story that begs to be told again and again. I can even imagine listening to it while doing something else, just to be able to listen to the sheer wealth of information again. (Someone should consider releasing the audio track by itself; it would be great for commuters.)

Collins always packs his DVDs with extras, and Eliot Ness: An Untouchable Life continues the tradition. Included is a feature-length commentary with Collins, Cornelison, and Dingeldein where they display just how much in love with this project they were. Also here are a deleted scene, a behind-the-scenes photo slideshow, and — most interesting of all — a new short film noir called "An Inconsequential Matter" (also with commentary) that is currently making the festival rounds. The story starts out similar to Sleuth but turns into something else entirely and is a good opportunity for viewers new to Cornelison to see him in a different role.

Sleuth (2007) directed by Kenneth Branagh (starring Michael Caine, Jude Law)

Sleuth (2007). Screenplay by Harold Pinter from the play by Anthony Shaffer.

Successful crime novelist Andrew Wyke (Michael Caine) invites actor and sometime hairdresser Milo Tindle (Jude Law) out to his English country home to discuss the woman they have in common: Andrew's wife Maggie. What follows is an elaborate game of wits that can have only one winner. Or is there a winner at all?

The original 1972 Sleuth is one of my favorite movies, so I went into this one with both curiosity and trepidation. I knew it wasn't possible to equate the experience of the original, but with a Harold Pinter script, Kenneth Branagh directing, and Michael Caine as Andrew, I knew I simply had to see what happened. (By pure coincidence, I watched both this and Sweeney Todd in the same week, and they're both remakes of favorites.)

I was both disappointed and pleased. The first hour of the 2007 Sleuth basically replicates the first two-thirds of the 1972 version, up to and including a visit from the police inspector (a small role that is nonetheless pivotal), but in a way that feels very much cut to the bone. All the details are there, but little of the emotion. The meeting of these two should be fraught with tension, but Pinter's screenplay wants so much to just get on with the proceedings that it feels rushed.

From that first hour, however, events begin to depart from the Anthony Shaffer play that is the source. And, similarly, from that point on, things get really interesting for the viewer expecting a retread of the original. In an interview on the DVD, Pinter states that prior to being asked to write this script, he had neither seen the movie nor read the play. He was therefore able to give it his own stamp. And he does indeed. The tone of the final third is completely different from its predecessor, with tonal changes both modern and unexpected (though not necessarily to fans of other Michael Caine films, Deathtrap in particular).

Caine and Law are well paired here. Having played Milo in the original to Laurence Olivier's Andrew, Caine has firsthand seen the role done definitively. Luckily, apart from some hauntingly familiar line readings (Intended? Who knows?), he takes a completely different tack and offers an Andrew almost completely self-assured. Whereas, Jude Law's Milo is a very modern man: somewhat confused by his woman and, certainly in this case, merely acting as the mouthpiece for her needs. But even these perceptions are turned on their heads in a film that refuses to take anything for granted.

I've seen Law in other films before, but Sleuth is the first one where he really shines through the material. This may be due to acting opposite a heavyweight like Caine (that always seems to bring out the best in relative newcomers), or to Branagh's direction (not likely as he seems to cast who he thinks can work without his help), or to the fact that, as producer, Law reportedly initiated this project for his own purposes (the most likely, since it means he already saw himself in the role). Either way, he offers a performance far beyond where I assumed his abilities lay and emerges as the real star of the film.

Though this Sleuth can never expect to stand up to the legacy of the original, it does indeed prove itself to be a worthy companion. And one that deserves respect, if only for taking the road less traveled by. In an era that wants film viewers to take everything at face value, a film that circumvents our expectations is a welcome one indeed.

Sweeney Todd directed by Tim Burton (starring Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, Sacha Baron Cohen)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2008. Reprinted with permission.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007). Screenplay by John Logan from the 1979 musical (book by Hugh Wheeler, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim) and the 1973 play by Christopher Bond.

Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd.
His skin was pale and his eye was odd.
He shaved the faces of gentlemen
Who never thereafter were heard of again,
Did Sweeney,
Did Sweeney Todd,
The demon barber of Fleet Street.

Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a wonder. I originally came across it on PBS (the nationally touring version with Angela Lansbury and George Hearn), and knew immediately — with bloody murder, dark humor, and cannibalism — that this was a musical I could get my head around! I immediately bought the only CD copy I could find (highlights of the original cast recording with Lansbury and Len Cariou), and I've been a fan ever since, especially of the centerpiece (and Act 1 closer) "A Little Priest," wherein Todd and Mrs. Lovett fantasize what they're going to serve in her meat-pie shop:

"Is that squire on the fire?"
"Mercy, no, sir. Look closer, you'll notice it's grocer."
"Looks thicker — more like vicar."
"No, it has to be grocer, it's green."

Director Tim Burton's film really does justice to this story of a barber returning to London after 15 years in prison to take revenge on the man who ruined his life. Johnny Depp is a solid singer (he adds a rock and roll touch that is not unwelcome), and Helena Bonham Carter carries the more difficult role of Mrs. Lovett with surprising skill. (In an interview on the DVD, she states she's been a fan for decades and that it was the first thing she and Burton had in common. And, yes, she had to audition for Stephen Sondheim.) Even Sacha Baron Cohen (whose "comedy" I don't find funny at all) is a treat in a broad performance that works and allows him to use two different accents.

Visually, Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street is perfect, mixing light and dark brilliantly, as one might expect from Burton (a director whose entire filmography consists primarily of shades of gray). And even though several of the songs are missing (and large portions cut from those that are included, such as all pieces requiring a chorus), the trimming works well on the screen. (The only song I really missed was "The Ballad of Sweeney Todd," quoted at the beginning of this review.) This change means that the amount of music will not be overwhelming to people who don't generally like musicals — and the amount of blood spilled will surely keep the attention of horror fans!

It works as a horror film, as a tragedy, as an oddball romance (of sorts), and best of all, it still works as a musical. Even Stephen Sondheim (the composer and lyricist) liked it, and he's notoriously disapproved of all other films based on his work. I'm not likely to buy the soundtrack — the singing isn't bad, but it's by no means good enough to listen to by itself — but Sweeney Todd has reinvigorated my love of the material, and that's enough to recommend it to anyone.

There Will Be Blood directed by Paul Thomas Anderson (starring Daniel Day Lewis, Paul Dano)

There Will Be Blood (2007). Screenplay by Paul Thomas Anderson, loosely adapted from the novel OIL! by Upton Sinclair.

I went into There Will Be Blood expecting a solid movie, but nothing on the scale writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson delivers. I enjoyed Magnolia and especially Boogie Nights for various reasons (often despite their flaws), but in those films, Anderson seemed to be merely following the multiple-character trail Robert Altman blazed many years before. This film really feels like a truly original story by a much more mature storyteller.

In addition to the terrific acting from star Daniel Day Lewis (and to a lesser extent, Paul Dano in a dual role), there were two major plusses about There Will Be Blood. First, that I had no idea where the story was going. In an age where it seems that one movie is pretty much like another, this is a welcome surprise.

The second additional plus was the terrific modern-classical score from Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood (including portions of his Popcorn Superhet Receiver). It is the first in recent memory that both calls unnecessary attention to itself (mostly due to its use of dissonance during particularly dramatic scenes) and remains true to the film.

Most of the time, when I notice that I'm hearing a score, it's because it's particularly bad. A good score, most of the time, should be like a good editor: if they're doing their job, you won't notice them. But Greenwood's music outdoes itself on both fronts, making the music from There Will Be Blood also the first score since Danny Elfman's peak in the early 1990s that I am actually considering purchasing on CD.

The Maltese Falcon (1931) directed by Roy del Ruth (starring Ricardo Cortez, Bebe Daniels, Una Merkel, Dwight Frye)

The Maltese Falcon (1931). Screenplay and dialogue by Brown Holmes (Street of Women) and Maude Fulton from the novel The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett.

The three-disc special edition of the 1941 version of The Maltese Falcon contains some very interesting bonus features: the two previous adaptations of Dashiell Hammett's novel, the first also called The Maltese Falcon (though it was renamed Dangerous Female for TV in the '50s to avoid confusion), and the second titled Satan Met a Lady.

Since the 1941 version (directed by John Huston and starring Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Sydney Greenstreet, and Peter Lorre) is the one considered "definitive," it's not surprising that relatively few viewers realize that was actually Hollywood's third adaptation of Hammett's classic detective novel.

Satan Met a Lady (directed by William Dieterle and starring Bette Davis and Warren William), is by all accounts a disaster (a very loose adaptation by screenwriter Brown Holmes, who co-wrote this version), but the first Maltese Falcon, filmed in 1931 by director Roy del Ruth, is a terrific alternative for viewers who love the story and would just like to watch a different take on it. (Both films are faithful to the source, with few changes.)

The main difference in tone comes from the portrayal of Ricardo Cortez as Sam Spade. Cortez's Spade is much more of a ladies man than Bogart's. In fact, the opening scene of the movie shows a woman leaving Spade's office, adjusting her stockings (later, he is shown picking up sofa cushions from the floor). His roving eye (and hand) also includes his secretary, Effie. Una Merkel plays Effie as if she's not only a willing participant in these shenanigans, but is also quite aware of Spade's other dalliances — including partner Miles Archer's wife Iva (Thelma Todd) — and thinks it's funny.

That lightness extends to Cortez, as well. He goes throughout The Maltese Falcon with a huge smirk on his face, as if everything going on around him is endlessly entertaining. And I can imagine why. When Ruth Wonderly (Bebe Daniels) comes into his office, he probably already knows she'll end up naked in his bath, in his bed, and in his kitchen. Cortez displays just the right mix of sleaze and charm.

But the only other actor who gives anything close to as interesting a performance is Dudley Digges as Kasper Gutman. Digges gives the role real grease, making him a truly unlikeable antagonist (Greenstreet always charmed even in his most villainous roles, much like Claude Rains, his costar in Casablanca). And I was very pleasantly surprised to find that Dwight Frye (Renfield in the Lugosi Dracula) shows up briefly as Wilmer Cook. He doesn't say much, but just try to look away when he flashes those psychotic eyes.

This Maltese Falcon was made three years before the enforcement of the Production Code that would whitewash movies for the next thirty years. Thus, there are instances like those mentioned above that did not make it into the "cleaner" 1941 version. One major effect this had is when Mary Astor's Brigid O'Shaughnessy proclaims to Bogart's Spade, "I thought you loved me," it doesn't make a whole lot of sense based on what preceded. Here, when Wonderly (who never reveals herself to be O'Shaughnessy, a plot point I always thought was unnecessarily confusing anyway) says the same words, they hold real meaning.

Though quite entertaining in its own right, the 1931 Maltese Falcon is undoubtedly destined to remain forgotten in the shadow of its later remake. I recommend it, however, due to its lighter and sexier tone, handsomer leading man, and almost completely different approach to the same source material. Fans of pre-Code cinema will especially enjoy it, even if they generally prefer a little more noir in their detective stories.

The Long Riders directed by Walter Hill

The Long Riders (1980). Screenplay by Bill Bryden, Steven Phillip Smith, Stacy Keach, and James Keach.

They was called long-riders, I guess, partly because they was in the saddle all the time, and partly because they done their jobs so far apart. They'd ride into Eldara and blow up the safe in the bank one day, for instance, and five days later they'd be 250 miles away stoppin' a train at Lewis Station....

Now and then a gang held together long enough to raise so much hell that they got known from one end of the range to the other. Mostly they held together because they had a leader who knew how to handle 'em and who kept 'em under his thumb. — from Trailin'! by Max Brand

Walter Hill's 1980 Western The Long Riders (his first film after the 1979 cult classic The Warriors) starts out with a gimmick — the casting of famous Hollywood brothers as famous outlaw brothers — but ends up as a fair addition to the genre (and it reportedly began its life as a musical!).

The main reason most people will get curious about The Long Riders is the cast. But look at that cast! It is likely to be the only place you'll see such a parade of prominent Hollywood families all together in one film.

Here's the lineup: David Carradine as Cole Younger, Keith Carradine as Jim Younger, Robert Carradine as Bob Younger; Stacy Keach as Frank James, James Keach as Jesse James; Dennis Quaid as Ed Miller, Randy Quaid as Clell Miller; Christopher Guest as Charlie Ford, Nicholas Guest as Robert Ford. (Jeff Bridges and Beau Bridges were originally offered the Ford roles but were reportedly unable to clear their schedules.)

Among this band of brothers, I was pleasantly surprised that James Keach — whose work I was only passingly familiar with thus far and had found mostly unmemorable — was the real standout. He draws the eye every time he is on the screen, not least because his face seems to have been carved out of rock. There's hardly a rounded surface to be seen, which just serves to make every emotion more intensely expressed.

In retrospect, this should not have been too surprising, given that the film was originally conceived by the brothers Keach as a vehicle for themselves. The familial aspect does serve to make the interrelations of the characters more palpable (unless that was just my own projection), and it's certainly worth at least one viewing, but The Long Riders is unlikely to be seen historically as anything more than a minor contribution to Western film.

The Thin Man directed by W.S. Van Dyke (starring William Powell and Myrna Loy, based on the novel by Dashiell Hammett)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on Video Vista. Copyright 2002.

The Thin Man (1934). Screenplay by Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich from the novel The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett.

This first in the series — the only one actually adapted from the Dashiell Hammett novel — set the stage for the five sequels that followed. In The Thin Man we are quickly introduced to Nick and Nora Charles and their dog Asta (who became a star in his own right and is still a favorite of crossword puzzle creators) in a scene that typifies their relationship: the opening club scene.

From there on, William Powell and Myrna Loy are the best things on the screen. Their banter floats The Thin Man from being a normal sleuth picture to another level. I really believed that these two are a married couple. Or, rather, I realized that this was my idea of the perfect married couple.

The wordplay in The Thin Man gives a welcome break from the detection. For example, there is a particularly tense shootout in their apartment. The next morning they are reading about it in the papers:

Nick: "I'm a hero. I was shot twice in the Tribune."
Nora: "I read where you were shot five times in the tabloids."
Nick: "It's not true. He didn't come anywhere near my tabloids."

That is not to say that the crime doesn't matter. In fact, The Thin Man is the only one in the series that treats the murder inspection equally with the banter between the two main characters. It is therefore much darker than its successors. But a balance is struck by director W.S. Van Dyke between light and heavy that is perfect, whereas in the sequels the focus was placed more on Nick and Nora and barely gave lip service to the crimes.

The sequels are all fun, though, and I recommend the entire series without reservation. Although the quality does decline steadily throughout, Powell and Loy make these characters so enjoyable that you hardly notice.

The Thin Man was nominated for four Oscars (Best Picture, Best Director [W.S. Van Dyke], Best Actor [Powell], and Best Screenplay Adaptation [Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett]), but won none, losing all those awards to It Happened One Night.

(Incidentally, contrary to what the titles of the sequels would suggest, Nick Charles is not the Thin Man. It was how the character Clyde Wynant in this film was described in a police bulletin.)