When Will Hollywood Rediscover the Great B-Movie Action Flick?

The great B-Movie director Roger Corman has died. As a kind of tribute, I’m reposting an essay I wrote some years ago on my old blog. Enjoy!

RW

Ever since I turned forty, I find myself going to see fewer and fewer movies.  It’s only natural, I suppose.  The less time you have left, the less time you want to spend in a darkened theater, lost in flights of fancy.  And so, what little I know of recent film releases comes to me second-hand, either through friends or online reviews or through the film trailers that I see when I do occasionally go to a movie.  Even from this limited perspective, I can glean a few obvious facts about movies these days:  1.) they are all rated PG-13 and 2.) they are all about the end-of-the-world and 3.) they all rely heavily on digital effects.

These three qualities go together, of course, for reasons that are based more in economics than anything else.  The digital effects are required to attract a modern audience raised on video games and violent TV.  And because these CGI effects tend to be horrifically expensive, the movies must be rated PG-13 in order to gather as large are a customer base as possible.  Finally, the reliance on end-of-the-world plots come naturally, mainly because the plot-lines that justify these breathtaking explosions, airships, monsters, and laser guns usually involve some kind Biblical-style, science-fiction-themed catastrophe.

Unfortunately, as io9 pointed out recently in a nice post, the combination of blockbuster effects, epic plotlines, and adolescent drama can ultimately have a deadening effect on our experience of film.  I’ve been musing over this idea for some time, especially when I think back to some of my favorite movies from my youth, low-budget actioners like Escape from New York, The Road Warrior, Smokey and the Bandit, and even Damnation Alley.

Then, with untimely death of the great stunt man and director Hal Needham last month, the following question came into my head:  When will Hollywood rediscover the great B-movie action flick?

escape-from-new-york-brain
Escape from New York

Needham’s passing made me think of this because it was he, along with other great B-directors like John Carpenter and George Miller, who defined the kind of aesthetic I am speaking of.  Cars.  Guns.  Swords.  Muscles.  And stunts.  Lots of stunts.  Real, bone-breaking, edge-of-your-seat stunts that left you thinking: how the f*** did they do that?

Don’t get me wrong:  CGI effects can be great.  When done well, they are just as thrilling and convincing as any old-style gag (and often more so).  Avatar is an amazing example, obviously, of what CGI effects can do to enhance the performances of human actors.

But let’s face it—there is something cold and numbing about most CGI effects these days.  Maybe it’s just the endless repetition, but I find myself unmoved by the sight of yet another hero sailing across a green-screen into a digitally created maelstrom of death.

Ho…hum….

Great B-movies, on the other hand, had an undeniably gritty, naturalistic, human quality to them.  This was mainly due to their miniscule budgets, which required feats of genuine physical daring from low-paid stunt men (and, as often as not, from the so-called “leading” men, too, who got paid slightly more). These were guys who got half their pay in cash and the other half in cocaine (or painkillers).  But they took genuine risks, and their performances were often more entertaining than those you would see in an A-list movie.

That’s the paradox.  Special effects, for all their dazzling ability to mimic reality, are often less convincing than a guy hanging on the hood of a 1978 Chevy Nova with his fingernails while blasting a shotgun at another guy in a rubber monster suit.   Go figure.

Of course, I’m not the first person to feel this way.  Modern auteur directors like Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez have been trying to re-capture this vibe for years with movies like Pulp Fiction, Grindhouse, and From Dusk Till Dawn, with limited success.  My theory is that in order to make a good, low-budget, story-driven action film, you have to be a good, low-budget, story-driven director.  Emphasis on low-budget.  Desperation is the best motivation for a director.  It’s also the essential ingredient of a great B-movie.

I mentioned Needham above because he was perhaps the only example of a stuntman who became a successful director, creating movies that I loved as a kid.  Smokey and the Bandit.  Hooper.  Even the classic howler Megaforce was great if you were a fourteen-year-old kid with nothing better to watch.  But, for my money, the greatest B-movie director of all time is John Carpenter.  He had an early success with a micro-budget, blood-splattered hit called Assault on Precinct 13, and then went on to make such classics as Halloween and Escape from New York.   Even today, thirty years later, I find these movies much more engrossing than the typical sci-fi bomb that craters its way into the local cineplex every summer.  Despite their cheesy effects and less-than-stellar cast, great B-movies feel more real to me.

LaserSighting
The Terminator

So I ask the question again:  When will Hollywood rediscover the B-movie action flick?

The answer, of course, is that it won’t.

For one thing, the current economic model of film studios does not allow the making of such low-budget fare.  Even stories that have the potential to be great low-budget flicks like The Fast and Furious soon become bloated, over-the-top blockbusters.  And even a fine, grungy little horror flick like Pitch Black (which is maybe the closest thing to a genuine B-movie I have seen in the past decade or so) can quickly get co-opted into the dreadful CGI-overloaded Riddick.  That’s the pattern.

But there’s another reason Hollywood can’t rediscover great B-action movies:  it never discovered them.  Even in the 1970s and 80s, most of the really great B-movies came from small, independent studios or from overseas (Australia and Hong Kong being the primary centers for schlock brilliance).  It was only when a nominally A-list actor would attach himself to a lower-budget production that the major studios were willing to back a B-movie, with Smokey and the Bandit and The Terminator being prime examples.  For the most part, great B-movies came from great B-movie producers and directors, playing with their own money, taking their own (very personal) risks.

936full-the-road-warrior-photo
Mad Max II: The Road Warrior

Even so, here is my suggestion to Hollywood:  instead of funding three big movies a year at 100 million dollars each, try making one big movie for 100 million and twenty smaller ones for 10 million each.  You’ve got a better shot, this way, of getting a genuine hit.  (How many multiples of its original budget did The Road Warrior rake in during that long-ago summer?)

This is how you make a good B-movie action flick, in four easy steps…

1.) Find some decent, young actors and actresses.  They don’t necessarily have to sport bulging biceps or bodacious boobs (although it doesn’t hurt).

2.) Find some hungry, talented, unknown directors with a penchant for cars, guns, and dynamite (think James Cameron in his Piranha II days).

3.) Get some good, nerdy writers to pen the script, preferably from a great B action novel like something Stephen King or Roger Zelazny would have written, back in the day.

4.) Get some great stuntmen.  Fire some squibs.  Wreck some cars. Basically, have some fun.  I’m just sayin’…

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Even Better Than the Real Thing”

When U2’s Achtung Baby came out in 1991, critics joked that it was the album that saved the band from itself. After the enormous success of 1987’s The Joshua Tree, U2 too fell into an abyss of self-indulgence and ego with their follow-up album-and-movie extravaganza Rattle and Hum, which alienated some of their fans. Fortunately, Achtung Baby marked not only a return to form for the band but a whole new direction, one influenced by techno, funk, and other genres. 

One of my favorite songs on the album is “Even Better Than the Real Thing.” Most young people today do not realize that the title and chorus on the song is a reference to Coca-Cola’s long-standing slogan: “It’s the real thing.” With his brilliant and demented lyrics, Bono twists the slogan into a critique of modern consumerism. The song is basically a sequel to The Rolling Stones’s “Satisfaction,” but with an even more apocalyptic bent.

It also has a great video, notable at the time for its innovative use of a harness in which Bono was strapped while the camera whirled around him. The final effect is both exhilarating and somewhat nauseating, literal sensory overload, in keeping with the theme of the song itself. Not to mention our modern age.

Rock on.

Classic Sci-Fi Book Cover: “Snow Crash”

It’s hard to believe that 32 years have passed since Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash was published. Not only is it one of the best books of the 1990s, it’s also one of the definitive novels of the cyberpunk genre. In retrospect, one of the most surprising things about Snow Crash is that it’s not really a dystopian novel. It’s more like a satire, a spoof of corporate America’s relentless pursuit of wealth and power in the 21st Century. Its hero (deftly named Hiro) is a Ninja-level hacker by night and a pizza-delivery guy by day. The pizza company he works for is run by the mafia (which has become legal), and if he fails to deliver a pizza in thirty minutes or less, Hiro faces summary execution.

Yeah, it’s that kind of book. It also has some really kick-ass fight scenes.

I love this cover by Bruce Jensen because it’s photorealistic and immediately suggests a narrative, which is perfect for this kind of sci-fi, quasi-adventure novel. More importantly, it captures the crazy melange of elements that Stephenson squeezes into the novel. you’ve got a hero with his samurai sword walking towards a clearly futuristic, cyberpunk city. Paradoxically, he’s passing through an ancient stone doorway that might be a relic from Bronze Age Persia. 

It’s an enigmatic cover but also thrilling and stimulating to the imagination. Which is exactly what one expects from a great sci-fi book cover. 

Shepherd Book List

The good people at Shepherd.com invited me to post a “5 best” list on their site. I had a lot of fun with it. Thanks to Ben Shepherd for making this happen.

Here’s my list. Check it out…

https://shepherd.com/best-books/literary-novels-masquerading-as-crime-novels

Today I Learned a Word: “Mithraic”

Back in the 1980s, I took a Humanities class during my freshman year of college. The professor was really good, and she supplemented her lectures by showing up a few episodes of Robert Hughes‘s BBC series Shock of the New, which covered the history of Modern Art as seen through Hughes’s own discerning, sardonic lens. 

I remember being struck by how witty and intelligent Hughes seemed as he talked about numerous examples of iconic modern art and architecture. He did exactly what a good critic is supposed to do: open your eyes to meaning and resonance in art that you might have missed, and connections you never would have thought of.

I liked the series so much that I’ve watched it a couple of times since on YouTube, and I recently bought the book that Hughes wrote to accompany it. Hughes really was one the smartest and most interesting art critics of his generation, and he could really write. Take this passage, for instance, about Pablo Picasso’s most famous and disturbing work, Guernica,

Seen detached from its social context, if such a way of seeing were either possible or desirable (in Picasso’s view it would not have been, but there are still formalists who disagree), it is a general meditation on suffering, and its symbols are archaic, not historical: the gored and speared horse (the Spanish Republic), the bull (Franco) louring over the bereaved, shrieking woman, the paraphernalia of pre-modernist images like the broken sword, the surviving flower, and the dove. Apart from the late Cubist style, the only specifically modern elements in Guernica are the Mithraic eye of the electric light, and the suggestion that the horse’s body is made of parallel lines of newsprint, like the newspaper in Picasso’s collages a quarter-century earlier. [emphasis mine]

As I read this passage, I thought to myself: wow. Then I thought to myself: Mithraic? WTF is that? So, naturally, I googled it and discovered that Mithraism was a religious cult in 4th Century C.E. Rome that directly opposed Christianity and was popular with Roman soldiers. I don’t know exactly what sense Hughes was employing the word, but I think he was getting at the idolatrous aspect of Fascism—literally, an ideology opposed to Christ and Christian values—as manifested in the mid-Twentieth Century love of technology and machines. Reading Hughes’s moving and trenchant prose, I was reminded of how Picasso, eighty-seven years before Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, Picasso painted the most powerful and grotesque indictment of war, and especially high-tech war, ever conceived. (Sadly, it is as relevant now as it was in 1937.)

If you have a chance, you should watch Shock of the New, or any of Hughes’s other series if you can find them. If nothing else, you’ll probably be smitten by his fascinating and highly idiosyncratic rhetorical style, with his strange (theoretically Australian) accent and tendency to punch words harder than Mike Tyson. My wife and I still joke lovingly about the way he pronounced various famous artists: i.e., Pehblo Pehkesso.

He was a treasure, and I miss him. 

“Guernica” by Pablo Picasso

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)”

When “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” came out in 1983, I was a junior in high school. Being a bit of a music snob, not to mention a budding wannabe intellectual, I was pretty well versed in the New Wave music of the era, bands like the Talking Heads and Gary Numan and Devo, not to mention the more avant guard stylings of The Police. (Synchronicity came out that year, and if it’s not a New Wave song, I don’t know what is.) 

But, like everyone else, I was totally unprepared for “Sweet Dreams”. It wasn’t just the disconcerting, off-kilter, literally ass-backwards beat of the song. It was Annie Lennox’s soaring, operatic delivery of those out-there, nakedly perverse lyrics (“some of them want to abuse you; some of them want to be abused”). Most of all, it was the music video, which came spilling out of TVs everywhere and didn’t stop for about six months. 

Looking back on it now in our absurdly trans-phobic era, it’s hard to imagine how utterly trans the video was. Transexual. Transgressive. Trans-everything. The sight of the beautiful Annie Lennox decked out in a (tailored) man’s suit, with her orange hair and vaguely Hitlerian mannerism, was like an A-Bomb going off in the brain of middle America. It might have all been too much, except for one thing: It’s a hell of a good song.

Rock on.

Friday Night Rock-Out: “Black Hole Sun”

Okay, it’s a been a few days since the solar eclipse, but I’m still gonna go for the low-hanging fruit; this week’s Friday Night Rock-Out is Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun.”

When this song came out in 1994, it was the first time I really became aware of Soundgarden as a band (and, more directly, Chris Cornell’s awesomely powerful voice). It didn’t hurt that the song came with a trippy, nightmarish music video that, like the song itself, seemed to capture the country’s mid-90s dread that everything was quite literally flying apart. (Not like now at all.)

Rock on…

The Metaphysics of Left and Right (No, Not Politics; the Freakin Directions!)

pbride_swords
“I am not left-handed…”

I think I am losing my mind.

A few years ago, I was reading yet another popular science book—I think it was Brian Greene’s The Elegant Universe—when I came across a reference to one of those barroom brain teasers. It goes like this: if your image in a mirror is reversed with regard to right/left and left/right, why is not also reversed from up/down and down/up?

The answer, while elementary, is surprisingly difficult to articulate. It helps to imagine yourself, not face-to-face with your reflection, but back-to-back, with the plane of the mirror between you and your mirror-doppelgänger. Now stick your arms out and waggle your fingers. For both you and your reflection, up is still up, and down is still down. This side (left to you, right to your doppelgänger) is still this side, and that side (right) is still that side.

The only real difference is that up/down has an objective definition; that is, which direction is the earth and which the sky. But left/right has a purely subjective definition, relative to whose set of eyes one is looking through.

Simple, right?

Continue reading “The Metaphysics of Left and Right (No, Not Politics; the Freakin Directions!)”