important facet of genre history, the book suffers from the rather pedestrian nature of many of the interviews, as well as the clearly talented author’s determination to avoid critical evaluation of the films covered.
As Albright’s introduction makes clear, the first wave of regional horror films followed the Supreme Court’s anti-trust ruling that severed the relation- ship between movie studios and theater chains, and was fueled by then-current tax laws (discon- tinued in 1986) that provided generous deductions for losses associated with investments in motion pictures. Studios reduced their output to focus on a limited number of major releases, and theater owners desperately needed material to fill the void. Not surprisingly, small regional filmmakers of vary- ing levels of experience and competence decided to seize the opportunity, and were funded by local physicians, dentists, lawyers, and businessmen looking for a tax write-off or a lark. The second, or “shot-on-video” wave was also fueled by a dearth of commercial product, this time as video stores clamored for stock to satisfy the newfound demand for videotape rentals. As quality video cameras became affordable, genre fans produced and mar- keted films directly to retailers or other fans through the back pages of FANGORIA. While the first wave bore some of the most beloved and influential genre films in history, the second produced little more than derivative exercises in sophomoric splatter. That being said, Albright makes clear that even the most ignoble of these homespun horrors should be celebrated as artifacts from a time when re- gional culture had not yet fallen victim to homog- enization and corporatization. His introduction is an absolute pleasure to read, and remains infor- mative, insightful, and genuinely funny through- out—but is also a high note that he is unable to sustain.
The interviews that follow prove something of a mixed bag. None of the major players (Romero, Hooper, Craven, etc.) are represented, and while there are some gems to be found, too many of the subjects prove that an association with even the most bizarre films does not always yield an enter- taining anecdote. Not surprisingly, the quality of the interviews seems directly proportional to the subject’s involvement in the creative, as opposed to commercial, aspects of filmmaking. For ex- ample, Ed Adlum, writer and director of INVASION OF THE BLOOD FARMERS, proves both a genu- ine eccentric and a first-rate raconteur. Milton Moses Ginsberg (WEREWOLF OF WASHINGTON) and Lewis Jackson (CHRISTMAS EVIL) Jackson provide valuable insight into their approaches to
writing and directing, and are not shy about point- ing out their films’ shortcomings. An especially enjoyable interview with Florida filmmaker William Grefé reveals the benefits of keeping a diary of one’s mistakes, the hazards of doing business with em- bezzlers, and the joys of spending a night on the town with Harold “Oddjob” Sakata. Several other interviews, however, are conducted with individu- als of a more prosaic temperament, for whom filmmaking was little more than a brief diversion from more lucrative endeavors. These interviews tend to run together, forming a parade of affable yet indistinguishable men who, after falling prey to poor distribution deals, returned to their day jobs both sadder and wiser. The interview section con- cludes with its most heartwarming entry—former high school teacher Robert Burrill’s account of marshaling an entire town to film THE MILPITAS MONSTER as an act of civic pride—supporting Albright’s contention that regional cinema is akin to community theater in that the final product is less important than the wonderfully democratic process of bringing ordinary people together for a shared artistic purpose.
The film guide that makes up the bulk of the text is a useful reference tool, and although limited to one-line plot descriptions and production high- lights, will likely have readers (this reviewer included) adding several obscure films to their personal “must-see” lists. Unfortunately, it also proves some- what frustrating, as Albright remains steadfast in his determination to avoid any critical analysis of the films covered—not only because he was un- able to view every film on the list, but also because he “tried his hand at capsule reviews before, and they generally stink.” Given his obvious strengths as a writer, one can’t help but suspect him of let- ting the perfect be the enemy of the good, espe- cially when he teases readers with offhanded critical pronouncements that are never elaborated upon. Readers are thus left dangling, wondering exactly why, for example, Albright considers CHRISTMAS EVIL “one of the finest films ever made for the exploitation market,” or why 555, among all the other splatter films, is singled out as “repulsive.” While readers may not be entirely satisfied, one can’t help but feel affection for a book that reveals the connections between Phil Spector and SHRIEK OF THE MUTILATED, GANJA & HESS and THE COSBY SHOW, and STAR WARS and THE DEADLY SPAWN. It’s quite pleasant to spend some time in the company of a good writer lis- tening to the reminiscences of the neglected cin- ematic mavericks who, in the words of Ed Adlum, “had a small moment in a small sun.”
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