I was given a
couple of genre readers by a friend from college that majored in Film and, of
course, now works as an insurance salesman.
I didn’t anticipate reading Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics for review purposes so I knocked it out a few pages at a time whilst sequestered in my fortress of solitude.
Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics is a collection of essays on cult films and is by no means comprehensive. The inverse is true. Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics is rather exclusive in its selections. If you’re looking for a comprehensive overview of cult films, locate, acquire and read Midnight Movies by J. Hoberman & Jonathan Rosenbaum. I’ll wait here while you do.
Alright, now that you’ve read pretty much the best book about cult films ever written, maybe you want to read more about cult films. If so, then Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics is probably a great place for you to continue your readings. This collection of essays contains essays written by extensively published professors of film and media who have all written several books on film criticism and film theory both genre specific and general, so the critical terminology used can be a bit challenging unless you’ve familiarized yourself with film theory by taking a college-level “Introduction to Film Studies” or at least read the textbook for one of those classes so, again, I’ll wait patiently while you track one down and absorb the contents.
Alright, now that you’ve got a foundation in cult film and a foundation in film theory, and you know the difference between “diegetic” and “non-diegetic” we can proceed.
The essays in the book at first glance don’t seem to have any kind of cohesive relationship, and even after reading the book, the essays seem to only share the common qualities of addressing cult films and their enthusiasts using advanced critical theories by professors with advanced degrees and teaching positions in film studies, which may have been the intention of the editors, but from personal experience it makes for a bumpy read. Jumping from “The Dynamics of Squirting: Female Ejaculation and Lactation in Hardcore Film” to an essay about the interpolative inter-relationship between violence and the cult of individuality in reality television and violence and the cult of individuality as used critically and for entertainment purposes in the film Rollerball (1975) is a bit of a jump if you’re trying to read the book straight through. The same can be said about the cognitive distance between the essay on fandom for The Exorcist (1975) and the essay about objectification, depersonalization, and the commodification of women and the reclamation of the selfhood of women through assertive action through the medium of exotic dancing in Paul Verhoeven's Showgirls (1995). Both are examples of a pretty wide gap to bridge in referential frames if you read them one after the other.
Another problem with the essays is that they focus almost exclusively on critical film theory which is excellent if that’s the kind of thing that you’re into. It’s not that I don’t understand critical film theory. I have a degree in psychology with course study in film theory, philosophy, literature and a minor in theater. I can talk film, film theory and psychological underpinnings with the best of them. I’ve read Eisenstein, Barthes, Barthelme, Freud, Lacan, Erikson, Campbell, Artaud, Ionesco, Brecht, and McLuhan and I’ve understood them all as well as anyone other than that authors can hope to understand their body of work. It’s not that I don’t understand critical film theory. I just don’t agree with it. A train entering a tunnel doesn’t always imply intercourse. Sometimes it does. But sometimes a train just enters a tunnel to further the plot. And if two men are fighting on top of a train and the train enters a tunnel and one of them gets decapitated by the lip of the tunnel it doesn’t necessarily symbolize castration anxiety when encountering the female sexual orifice and the fear of the vagina dentata. Sometimes it just makes sense because how else are you going to decapitate your villain and resolve the conflict?
That being said, the essays within these covers are excellent examples of film theory in practice being used to attempt to peel back the layers of meaning contained within a film. Unless a film is completely abstract it is intended to use film as a media combining images and texts in the form of dialogue to communicate a message and the message must necessarily have a viewpoint from which it being projected and the intentions and psyche of the creators of the film can often be extrapolated by reverse-engineering the message(s) communicated through the film both explicitly and implicitly.
The problem is that if you’re looking hard enough for something you’ll find it. If you see every object longer than it is wide as a penis and every opening as a vagina then you could easily draw an analogy between any episode of Thomas the Train and the filthiest hardcore pornography you can imagine. If your world-view is really that hyper-sexualized you’re either a teenager overwhelmed by the hormones coursing through their bloodstream or you’re an adult and you should probably seek counseling. Although some of the critical analysis is dead-on, as in the aforementioned essay on Rollerball (1975), some of the essays are aiming far from the mark and the critical interpretations they project upon the films they address are forced at best. Yes, it’s obvious that Chesty Morgan’s disproportionately large breasts are presented as spectacular examples of male desire gone awry, but the implanting of cameras in them in Double Agent 73 (1974) doesn’t necessarily mean that the director intended this to be interpreted as a reclamation of the female apparatus and to invert the function of the male gaze as a weapon as a subversive feminist act. Chesty Morgan has amazing tits and the producers didn’t hire her because she’s an amazing actress. Customers going to her films aren’t going for the acting, they’re going because of her 73-inch bustline. The story has to have some excuse for Miss Morgan to walk around with her tits out and you can’t take pictures through an opaque material, so there you go. She’s a super-spy who takes pictures with her tits. To try to force a critical interpretation of the inversion of the male gaze and the perversion of the commoditization of the female body onto what is essentially grist for masturbation is forced at best and like trying to compare The Slumber Party Massacre (1982) with King Lear. Sure it can be done, but not easily, and to be honest that dog won’t hunt and the shoe doesn’t fit.
Perhaps I’ve spent too much time focusing on the flaws of this collection of essays. I think it’s because as a whole I really enjoyed this little refresher course in film criticism by way of critical film theory which is a welcome respite from any of the many uncritically disciplined film reviewers offering their opinions in a miscellany of blogs and forums. The majority of the articles, if not critically sound are enjoyable to read and the book as a whole read rapidly despite the density of the critical content.
Particularly enjoyable personally were the essays on the films of Russ Myers, Rollerball (1975), Enter the Dragon (1973), and “Star Cults/Cult Stars: Cinema, Psychosis, Celebrity, Death” by Mikita Brottman. I was really looking forward to the essay on Snuff Films, but, although relatively well-researched, the construction of the article was disjointed and clunky and from the perspective of a resident of the UK familiar with the “Video Nasties” era of strict British film censorship, so unless you share this rather selective perspective you’re likely to be similarly disappointed.
Do I regret reading the book? Not at all. It was a fun read, but mostly because I had already viewed and was familiar with all of the films addressed in the essays. Will you enjoy this book? If this is the kind of thing you’re into and by “this” I mean the specific films addressed in the collection if you’re already well familiar with them. If you’re looking for an entry-level book on cult films with a comprehensive filmography to use as a “Films to watch” list or a pleasant well-written review of cult films for enthusiasts, I would recommend Midnight Movies by J. Hoberman & Jonathan Rosenbaum instead.
I didn’t anticipate reading Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics for review purposes so I knocked it out a few pages at a time whilst sequestered in my fortress of solitude.
Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics is a collection of essays on cult films and is by no means comprehensive. The inverse is true. Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics is rather exclusive in its selections. If you’re looking for a comprehensive overview of cult films, locate, acquire and read Midnight Movies by J. Hoberman & Jonathan Rosenbaum. I’ll wait here while you do.
Alright, now that you’ve read pretty much the best book about cult films ever written, maybe you want to read more about cult films. If so, then Unruly Pleasures: The Cult Film and Its Critics is probably a great place for you to continue your readings. This collection of essays contains essays written by extensively published professors of film and media who have all written several books on film criticism and film theory both genre specific and general, so the critical terminology used can be a bit challenging unless you’ve familiarized yourself with film theory by taking a college-level “Introduction to Film Studies” or at least read the textbook for one of those classes so, again, I’ll wait patiently while you track one down and absorb the contents.
Alright, now that you’ve got a foundation in cult film and a foundation in film theory, and you know the difference between “diegetic” and “non-diegetic” we can proceed.
The essays in the book at first glance don’t seem to have any kind of cohesive relationship, and even after reading the book, the essays seem to only share the common qualities of addressing cult films and their enthusiasts using advanced critical theories by professors with advanced degrees and teaching positions in film studies, which may have been the intention of the editors, but from personal experience it makes for a bumpy read. Jumping from “The Dynamics of Squirting: Female Ejaculation and Lactation in Hardcore Film” to an essay about the interpolative inter-relationship between violence and the cult of individuality in reality television and violence and the cult of individuality as used critically and for entertainment purposes in the film Rollerball (1975) is a bit of a jump if you’re trying to read the book straight through. The same can be said about the cognitive distance between the essay on fandom for The Exorcist (1975) and the essay about objectification, depersonalization, and the commodification of women and the reclamation of the selfhood of women through assertive action through the medium of exotic dancing in Paul Verhoeven's Showgirls (1995). Both are examples of a pretty wide gap to bridge in referential frames if you read them one after the other.
Another problem with the essays is that they focus almost exclusively on critical film theory which is excellent if that’s the kind of thing that you’re into. It’s not that I don’t understand critical film theory. I have a degree in psychology with course study in film theory, philosophy, literature and a minor in theater. I can talk film, film theory and psychological underpinnings with the best of them. I’ve read Eisenstein, Barthes, Barthelme, Freud, Lacan, Erikson, Campbell, Artaud, Ionesco, Brecht, and McLuhan and I’ve understood them all as well as anyone other than that authors can hope to understand their body of work. It’s not that I don’t understand critical film theory. I just don’t agree with it. A train entering a tunnel doesn’t always imply intercourse. Sometimes it does. But sometimes a train just enters a tunnel to further the plot. And if two men are fighting on top of a train and the train enters a tunnel and one of them gets decapitated by the lip of the tunnel it doesn’t necessarily symbolize castration anxiety when encountering the female sexual orifice and the fear of the vagina dentata. Sometimes it just makes sense because how else are you going to decapitate your villain and resolve the conflict?
That being said, the essays within these covers are excellent examples of film theory in practice being used to attempt to peel back the layers of meaning contained within a film. Unless a film is completely abstract it is intended to use film as a media combining images and texts in the form of dialogue to communicate a message and the message must necessarily have a viewpoint from which it being projected and the intentions and psyche of the creators of the film can often be extrapolated by reverse-engineering the message(s) communicated through the film both explicitly and implicitly.
The problem is that if you’re looking hard enough for something you’ll find it. If you see every object longer than it is wide as a penis and every opening as a vagina then you could easily draw an analogy between any episode of Thomas the Train and the filthiest hardcore pornography you can imagine. If your world-view is really that hyper-sexualized you’re either a teenager overwhelmed by the hormones coursing through their bloodstream or you’re an adult and you should probably seek counseling. Although some of the critical analysis is dead-on, as in the aforementioned essay on Rollerball (1975), some of the essays are aiming far from the mark and the critical interpretations they project upon the films they address are forced at best. Yes, it’s obvious that Chesty Morgan’s disproportionately large breasts are presented as spectacular examples of male desire gone awry, but the implanting of cameras in them in Double Agent 73 (1974) doesn’t necessarily mean that the director intended this to be interpreted as a reclamation of the female apparatus and to invert the function of the male gaze as a weapon as a subversive feminist act. Chesty Morgan has amazing tits and the producers didn’t hire her because she’s an amazing actress. Customers going to her films aren’t going for the acting, they’re going because of her 73-inch bustline. The story has to have some excuse for Miss Morgan to walk around with her tits out and you can’t take pictures through an opaque material, so there you go. She’s a super-spy who takes pictures with her tits. To try to force a critical interpretation of the inversion of the male gaze and the perversion of the commoditization of the female body onto what is essentially grist for masturbation is forced at best and like trying to compare The Slumber Party Massacre (1982) with King Lear. Sure it can be done, but not easily, and to be honest that dog won’t hunt and the shoe doesn’t fit.
Perhaps I’ve spent too much time focusing on the flaws of this collection of essays. I think it’s because as a whole I really enjoyed this little refresher course in film criticism by way of critical film theory which is a welcome respite from any of the many uncritically disciplined film reviewers offering their opinions in a miscellany of blogs and forums. The majority of the articles, if not critically sound are enjoyable to read and the book as a whole read rapidly despite the density of the critical content.
Particularly enjoyable personally were the essays on the films of Russ Myers, Rollerball (1975), Enter the Dragon (1973), and “Star Cults/Cult Stars: Cinema, Psychosis, Celebrity, Death” by Mikita Brottman. I was really looking forward to the essay on Snuff Films, but, although relatively well-researched, the construction of the article was disjointed and clunky and from the perspective of a resident of the UK familiar with the “Video Nasties” era of strict British film censorship, so unless you share this rather selective perspective you’re likely to be similarly disappointed.
Do I regret reading the book? Not at all. It was a fun read, but mostly because I had already viewed and was familiar with all of the films addressed in the essays. Will you enjoy this book? If this is the kind of thing you’re into and by “this” I mean the specific films addressed in the collection if you’re already well familiar with them. If you’re looking for an entry-level book on cult films with a comprehensive filmography to use as a “Films to watch” list or a pleasant well-written review of cult films for enthusiasts, I would recommend Midnight Movies by J. Hoberman & Jonathan Rosenbaum instead.
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