The Giallo Canvas

Laughing Windows,
Broken Blinds

The Giallo Canvas -
Art, Excess and Horror Cinema
by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas
McFarland Press
ISBN: 9781476675398

Just a quick shout out to what I believe is one of the more entertaining, refreshing and illuminating books about various gialli in contemporary writing on the genre, The Giallo Canvas - Art, Excess and Horror Cinema by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas. Now I’ve found myself, at first accidentally, following the career of the writer over the last few years via expert inclusion on Blu Ray releases and essays in various venues such as accompanying leaflets and books. There’s even a brilliant episode of the podcast All The Colours Of The Dark which features her as the guest of honour, which is really worth a listen to (as are all the other episodes and anything hosted by Dr. Rebekah McKendry and Elric Kane). I’d not actually read an entire book by her before so I’m happy to start with one that is not only about one of my all time favourite genres of cinematic spectacle but also, in this case, approaching from a different and somewhat unique route... that of the overlap and relationship between various forms of art (mostly painting but not only limited to that) and themes and ideas that permeate a multitude of gialli.

Now, regular readers may be expecting a tirade of negativity from me in that the title itself (and some of the comments in the book) makes evident a perception that giallo is, perhaps, a sub-genre of horror cinema and, those same regular readers (I know you’re out there) will know that I don’t believe gialli are in any way an overlap of horror cinema (and neither are slasher movies for that matter)... if anything, they may be considered a sub-genre of crime films, if the point really needed to be pushed. However, I’m not going to labour that point here, specifically because Heller-Nicholas doesn’t ram that connection (or lack of) down your throat as some writers in the genre have and, mostly, because she’s easily written one of the most intelligent books on the subject going so... yeah, opinions on genre should be thrown to the side as this book is certainly one which is worthy of celebration.

Okay, so she had me right from the start with this one, literally from the first words of her introduction to the concepts she will go on to explore (in a much less formal and stuffy way than many academics go about leading a path to their imminent conclusion), by quoting an article by Virginia Woolf, writing about the first run release of The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari. The way that distinguished writer’s view of recognising high art and the questioning which comes as a reaction to it, seems pretty similar to Heller-Nicholas’ own discoveries of giallo and alternative cinema via Australia’s Special Broadcasting System (SBS) and numerous visits to video rental shops in her youth.

The book is set up in various sections including ‘Clues, Presence and Painting’, ‘Painters’ and ‘Other Art Forms’ and each one of these is split into chapters which explore either a specific painter (such as Vermeer), other mediums such as sculpture, music, writing, theatre/film performance and, also, movies in which characters in the stories are themselves an artist in one medium or another... and the way each of these subjects informs and illuminates the story and ideas presented in various gialli, usually taking one or two examples in each chapter as the main focus. So one chapter might mostly focus on Vermeer as seen in The Forbidden Room and The Psychic (aka Seven Notes In Noir) while another may highlight the use of Francis Bacon’s paintings in Lizard In A Woman’s Skin.

And it’s a really great book illuminating, for example, the highlighting of the visual reference created to mimic art as a metatextual element pulling the spectator out of the event... just as Godard used to try and do to his audience all the time (I guess I should also, myself, reference Brechtian theatre here as an example of this) or the way clues are missed in various films due to the main character’s failure to correctly interpret the clues in a specific piece of art (think of the painting in Argento’s The Bird With The Crystal Plumage and, of course, the tell tale mirror reflection of a painting of faces at the start of Argento’s Deep Red). There’s also some nice work done here with some really thorough interpretations of the various paintings seen (and sometimes fallen into) in The Stendhal Syndrome and similar interesting deductions and inclusions found in such gialli as The House With Laughing Windows and The Red Queen Kills Seven Times. And she also looks at the links between giallo and fashion, highlighting Bava’s Blood And Black Lace as kickstarting this juxtaposition, along with the humourous observation that crimes against the victims in films such as these are also violent attacks on the ‘high price tag’ clothing they wear. I’m also glad that she takes the time to briefly name check some other good writers in the field, including the brilliant Rachael Nisbet.

I’m not going to give away too many of the fascinating pleasures which make up the minor masterpiece that is The Giallo Canvas - Art, Excess And Horror Cinema but I would certainly say that, if you are into giallo and exploitation cinema and are looking to read something different to the usual meanderings in this field, then this one is really worth a purchase. And, it also educated me in one very important point that may have escaped my attention completely if I hadn’t picked up this tome... that the mannequin on the old posters for Spasmo bears a striking resemblance to Tori Amos. Not to mention Heller-Nicholas’ conclusion section, which takes time to mull over the much overused critical phrase ‘style over substance’ and its use as a negative in relation to the genre when, in some ways, it could also be seen as a much more positive engagement with the subject. Yep, there’s some real next level observations in this book. Give it a go.

The Lady From The Black Lagoon

Of Goddesses And Monsters

The Lady From The Black Lagoon -
Hollywood Monsters And The
Lost Legacy Of Milicent Patrick
by Mallory O’Meara.
Hanover Square Press
ISBN: 9781335937803

Regular readers will know that I’ve read more than my fair share of books about the shenanigans involved in various aspects of movie making over a number of decades (a few more decades than I’d like to admit). There are some really terrible ones out there, some really good ones and, just occasionally, a really great one. And when I say great ones, I mean the final outcome of all the research or the way in which the book is structured or the unprecedented archival nature of the material makes it an absolute belter of an essential addition to any film lover’s bookshelves. And, when I say bookshelf, I obviously mean the ‘too many piles of stuff on the floor’ of your daily environment through which it takes a minute to remember the correct path to navigate around all that movie memorabilia.

Yeah, I’m talking about the real cream of the crop, top tier books which have something extra special tucked between their pages. I’m talking about tomes like Mario Bava - All The Colours Of The Dark (Tim Lucas’ hefty and amazing bible on the late, great director), House Of Psychotic Women: An Autobiographical Topography of Female Neurosis in Horror and Exploitation Films (reviewed here), Scala Cinema 1978-1993 (reviewed here), The Creature Chronicles: Exploring the Black Lagoon Trilogy (reviewed here), Saul Bass - A Life In Film and Design (reviewed here) and A Thousand Cuts, The Bizarre Underground World of Collectors and Dealers Who Saved The Movies (reviewed here).

Mallory O’Meara’s astonishing The Lady From The Black Lagoon - Hollywood Monsters And The Lost Legacy Of Milicent Patrick... is just such a book. One of the essentials for any movie afficionado’s book shelf/movie shrine/miniature book Everest. I had originally planned to have a review of a famous giallo/horror director’s autobiography in this spot this week* but, when I finally got around to reading this book, which I bought sometime last year, it just floored me. This one was special and it’s still percolating in my mind so, you know, I wanted to get this one up on here as quickly as possible because you all need to read it.

Now, I’d never heard of Mallory O’Meara before but I had, only vaguely, heard of Milicent Patrick. When I was a young ‘un, sometime between the early 1970s to early 1980s, my parents took me to a sex cinema off Piccadilly Circus to see, in 3D and complete with green and red glasses, a proper double feature of IT Came From Outer Space and Creature From The Black Lagoon (a movie I reviewed here). I was thrilled and loved both movies, with the Gill-Man’s cinematic debut rating high on my list. A number of years ago, probably via the internet, I got wind that the creature had been designed by a lady named Milicent Patrick. That’s cool, I thought and then, you know, thought no more of it. So Mallory O’Meara’s thankless quest to bring to light the wonders and personal horrors of one of her heroes (she even has a tattoo of Milicent with the Gill-Man on her arm which, alas, we don’t see in this book, at least not in the edition I bought). is a very welcome publication And it’s a long quest on which she journeyed to give us this incredible account.

So all I knew before going into this one was that Milicent had designed the creature (although I’d also heard other stories and, frankly, now I know why) and that the guy who ran the head of the make-up department got jealous of her credit and basically ruined her career in Hollywood, after which she kind of dropped out and disappeared. So we should all be thankful that this O’Meara gal came along and decided to painstakingly dig a little deeper and do the detective work.

This story didn’t come easily and it’s possibly not a 100% complete picture of Patrick’s life but, one of the nice things about this book, unlike some other biographies, is that Mallory is completely honest about what she writes and she doesn’t seem to give in to wild speculation and present it as fact. There are maybe tiny holes (there always are) but you won’t find them glossed over or filled in here, they’re presented as they are... and obviously that means certain things we’ll never know but, from what I can see, the important stuff is somehow now with us.

And when I say she did the detective work, I mean just that. This isn’t just about Milicent Patrick’s life... take a look at that subtitle and you’ll see Hollywood Monsters mentioned here too and, spoiler alert, she’s not just talking about the beloved beasts you see on the silver screen, she’s talking about some of the less palatable Hollywood predators that have come to light in recent years and were, as we kinda always knew, prevalent in Milicent Patrick’s time too. You know the kind I mean. This book is as much about O’Meara as it is about Patrick. Mallory works on film production, has encountered some of these other monsters first hand and, as you simultaneously read her account of how she managed to track down all the information piece by piece, as she reports the continuing story of Milicent’s life, you realise that there are also some parallels, to some extent, between the biographer and her subject.

And there’s some fantastic stuff Ms. O’Meara turned up. As a taster only, because I really don’t want to spoil the content of this book for first time readers... Milicent Patric was a daughter to Camille Rossi, an architect who eventually worked a long time on William Randolph Hearst’s private castle and grounds (if you’re into Citizen Kane... which you kind of should be if you like to look at astonishing film technique... then Xanadu is based on this and, obviously, Kane is a satirical view of Hearst). Camille was the guy who even managed to turn around an oak tree! Milicent eventually went to study art at the Chouinard Art Institute which, because of an opportunity by the lady who ran the institute, was a direct pipeline into the Disney studios. Patrick was asked to work for Disney in 1938 and became one of the first female animators for the studio on films such as Fantasia. She also took small parts in films and eventually got hired by make-up legend Bud Westmore, whose name I’d heard from time to time, to work in his make up department at Universal, where she designed things like the aliens in their non-human form for It Came From Outer Space, the wonderful Metalunan Mutants from This Island Earth and, of course, The Gill-Man from Creature From The Black Lagoon. Then she got her 15 minutes of fame doing a whirlwind promotional tour for Universal studios but, as O’Meary says in her own, quite witty and wonderful words... “While Millicent was in the skies, filled with excitement, Bud Westmore was in his office, simmering with resentment.” Then Westmore took all the credit for himself, fired her and made sure she would probably never work for a make-up company again. And then she completely dropped out of public consciousness but, her new biographer was having none of that and she followed the few leads she had to finally hit the jackpot and flesh out the rest of Patrick’s life... much of which was spent in a long term, on/off relationship with the original radio incarnation of The Lone Ranger. I should probably insert a joke here about somebody who worked on movie monsters marrying someone who used to make silver bullets to load into his guns but, yeah, it’s not quite coming to me.

And the absolute cherry on the cake here is, it’s not just a well researched book... it’s also both a) an important one when it comes to women standing their ground against the various examples of toxic masculinity that permeates the film industry (and all the other industries and, no, 'toxic masculinity' is not a phrase I thought I would ever need to write in one of my reviews) and b) a really entertaining account of her journey to find this story. This isn’t good in that ‘academic explains things in layman’s terms and gives you total understanding of the subject matter’ kind of way. I mean, yeah, okay it is... you’ll certainly know the score here. Each important person that Milicent Patrick encounters in her life is given a mini biography by the writer as they enter her story and it’s very informative...

But what I really mean is, this girl is funny and she can write in a really entertaining and, towards the end of the book, moving manner. I love that she mostly uses her footnotes not just to inform but to crack extra jokes. So, for example, when she writes the phrase “Los Angeles still has never been devastated by a major earthquake.”, you’ll get the footnote “I’m nervous even typing that.” Or when she writes “There was a massive flood that devastated the crops, followed by a drought, which devastated the cattle.”, she can’t resist adding the footnote, “As in, lots of cattle died. Not that the cattle were like, so devastated about it being dry.” And she comes out with some absolute gems like, when she’s in the Universal archives and pulls out a note about the swimsuit actress Julie Adams should be wearing in Creature From The Black Lagoon, she comments that “My eyes rolled so hard that I was afraid they would get stuck in my frontal lobe.” I’m sorry, I  don’t often quote directly from the books I review but, this one is so good I had to share some of these.

As the book continues, you can feel the author's joys and disappointments as new facts are gleaned or claims made by the subject disproved and discounted. And it’s a real journey and, despite the oodles of humorous quips and nuggets of cold hard fact dripping from the pages, she did move me to tears by the end of the book too. Proper, manly tears, of course... as should be expected from a hard hearted individual such as myself.

And, that’s as much as I really want to say about this one because, I really don’t want to spoil it for you. The Lady From The Black Lagoon - Hollywood Monsters And The Lost Legacy Of Milicent Patrick by Mallory O’Meara is a really cool book and a solid recommendation from me if you’re into Hollywood, monster movies, feminism or, you know, that thrilling combination of all three. This one’s a creature feature you won’t want to miss. 

*Yeah, don't worry, the Argento autobiography review will be coming to this blog very soon.

Criterion Designs

The Admirable Criterion

Criterion Designs

by The Criterion Collection

ISBN: 978-1604659368

Criterion Designs must easily qualify as being somewhere amongst the top ten most beautiful film books I own. This hefty tome was brought out in 2014 to celebrate 30 years of the Criterion Collection, one of the most influential home video labels of all time. Criterion are an American company who are partnered with Janus Films and who were also once partnered with HVC (which explains why you can now get such gems as the complete Zatoichi Collection and the six original Lone Wolf And Cub movies in high quality Blu Ray restorations).

It’s a label who were almost legendary in the days of the LaserDisc, with titles such as their beautiful Kurosawa transfers and their unbelievably cool ‘alternate cut’ of Blade Runner (my review here), which is one of the titles that first made me prick up my ears in the early 1990s, even though I would never have the required funds to buy a laserdisc player. I later acquired a VHS NTSC version of this cut which was extremely hard to get to watch at the time on a UK PAL player although, thankfully, this version was finally made available properly by Warner Brothers years later, first on DVD and then Blu Ray as one of the five cuts of the movie on the most recent boxed editions of Blade Runner… it’s still my favourite version of the film. Of course, once they started releasing selected titles on US DVD, that’s when I started buying the Criterion titles. Sure, they were extremely pricey compared to any other video company’s releases (sometimes of the same title) but in the case of this particular label, you really were paying for the quality of transfers from freshly struck prints and, most importantly, presented in the correct aspect ratio. More often than not, they’d have some quite unique extras on their discs too… gaining in number as the company thrived.

Over the years their logo has changed quite dramatically (although I’ve now got used to the newish, minimal  design) but one of the quirks that they are noted for and which has stayed with them is the spine number on their DVDs, starting with the release of spine number 2, Seven Samurai, if memory serves (I believe spine number 1, Grande Illusion, was a delayed release?). These spine numbers are something which avid  collectors of the range are happy to pursue almost as much as the films themselves although... I don’t have a 'collector' mentality myself so I wouldn’t know.

The covers of their discs have evolved over the years too and, even in the days when they were purely using photos or posters from the titles in question, they were still mini triumphs of design/layout and their brand image put them head and shoulders above the majority of home video labels out there. They continue to release somewhere between 4 and 6 titles per month and many of their older covers, great as they were, have had facelifts as they are reissued with their new logo or re-released in a Blu Ray edition. Some, of course, have gone out of print or the rights to the movies have lapsed back to the original companies... which gave rise to a thriving trade in bootleg/faked Criterion editions, believe it or not. They’re that desirable on the collectors market.

Criterion Designs is a truly gorgeous hard back book which collects some of the artwork of the range together and, in many cases, gives you some insight into their creation. I was surprised that there's no dust jacket for the book but that's because the inside cover spread, full of tiny drawings, is visible through the front of the book via a large cutout of the current Criterion logo. The book then goes on to showcase a number of great pieces commissioned by a load of brilliant designers and artists, reproducing their work on high quality paper which shows them in their absolute best light (even more so than the original covers themselves, in most cases) and also backs these up, a lot of the time, with some of the booklet interior artwork and boxed set design.

As I went through the book I noticed there were a lot of creatives of whom I’d not heard but also a number who I definitely knew, including Eric Chase Anderson whose illustrations for the Criterion editions of his big brother’s films, Wes Anderson, are an absolute joy. I also came across some artists who I primarily knew from comic books of the 1980s such as Jamie Hernandez of Love and Rockets fame or Kent Williams, whose beautifully painted mini series Blood - A Tale made such an impression on me when I was at college.

In addition to beautiful reproductions of some of their favourite covers, many of which are modern icons among home video enthusiasts, there are number of examples of the genesis of these creations, including evolutionary sketches and alternate versions. There are also many fold out pages which act like double gatefold sections where some of the wider artworks for the range are shown in their full glory… for instance some stunning work for Sam Fuller’s movies Shock Corridor and The Naked Kiss and the wraparound artwork for the dual DVD/Blu Ray set of Zatoichi movies. As a final extra cherry on the top of an already well iced, cinematic cake, the final section is a gallery of pages of thumbnails of the entire history of their covers on laserdisc, DVD and Blu Ray up until the publication of this book, which is a nice resource to have as you are able to see a load of their releases in situ with each other at a glance.

At the end of the day, much of the stuff reproduced or showcased in Criterion Designs for the first time in a collection of this nature (including unused artwork) is truly breathtaking and, though it was an expensive purchase (which is almost a Criterion brand trait but, luckily, I was given some Christmas vouchers a few years ago which saw me in good stead), it was truly a brilliant buy and, while it’s taken me this long to get around to reading it, I’m just so pleased I invested the money for this volume and hope that, someday, they see fit to issue a sequel tome. Truly a gorgeous addition for the book shelf of any lover of cinema or fine art and a solid recommendation from me. Check this one out while you still can.