Saturday, February 22, 2014

Great Bill Crider Bargain


Do You Have Your Copy?

My book is being featured on Saturday February 22nd 2014 at eBookSoda, a new readers' site where they'll send you ebook recommendations tailored to your taste.www.ebooksoda.com.

Friday, February 21, 2014

REALLY EXTRAORDINARY PIECE BY DAVE ZELTSERMAN ON TOUCH OF EVIL


REally extraordinary piece by Dave Zeltserman on Touch of Evil

THURSDAY, MAY 3, 2012

Touch of Evil Considered

"All border towns bring out the worst in a country." Miguel "Mike" Vargas

In 1957 Universal Studios sent Orson Welles a script based loosely on Whit Masterson's* Badge of Evil, asking if he'd play the part of the crooked detective. According to Welles, the script was a very bad one, with not much in it other than a detective with a good record who plants evidence because he knows somebody is guilty -- and the fellow turns out to be really guilty. But Welles needed the money and agreed to do it. Universal then called up Charlton Heston who at the time was coming off the success of The Ten Commandments, and told him "Here's a script -- we'd like you to read it. We have Welles." Heston misunderstood and responded, "Well, any picture that Welles directs, I'll make." Universal, instead of correcting this misunderstanding, asked Welles if he'd direct. Welles agreed under the condition that he could rewrite the script. Universal let him do it, but would only pay him his original salary as an actor ($125,000) and not as a director or writer. And so was born Touch of Evil, which along with The Third Man, was arguably one of the greatest film noir movies from the 50s.

The opening sequence is the most famous in the movie: a three minute and twenty second uninterrupted crane tracking shot that follows a shadowy figure placing a bomb in a car and then an unsuspecting couple -- a wealthy American businessman and his stripper girlfriend -- entering the car and driving towards the US-Mexican border four blocks away, all the while (due to traffic, donkeys in the street, etc.) keeping pace with Miguel and Susan Vargas (Charlton Heston and Janet Leigh), newlyweds who are heading to the US side of the border in search of a chocolate soda. It isn't until the car enters the US side of the border that the car separates from Vargas and his wife and explodes into a deadly fireball.

While the bomb was planted on Mexican soil (a fictitious town called Los Robles which was patterned after Tijuana), the explosion occurred in the US, and is to be investigated by US officials. Vargas, a top Mexico City narcotics investigator, hangs around to offer his assistance as the police wait for Hank Quinlan to arrive. Orson Welles was 42 when Touch of Evil was filmed, but with the makeup to make his face appear swollen and bloated, the padding under his ever present overcoat, the thick cane he relies on and the camera angles to make his heft appear far heavier, Welles' Quinlan is massive. A bloated monstrosity of a man who looks like he's in his late 60s (another hint of his age is his wife had been murdered -- strangled to death -- thirty years earlier, the killer being the only criminal to escape Quinlan's justice).

When Quinlan arrives at the scene he makes quick intuitive guesses as to what happened and what needs to be investigated. Quinlan is a man of intuition and expediency while Vargas is more of a technocrat, a by-the-numbers straight-laced cop. Quinlan leads an expedition to the Mexican side of the border, a tawdry area lined with bars, strip clubs and brothels. Quinlan and his fellow cops descend on the strip club where the dead stripper had worked, eager to catch glimpses of naked flesh inside. In an alley outside the club, Vargas is attacked by one of the Grandi gang members (a parallel story is one of the Grandi gang trying to intimidate Vargas to drop a case against their patriarch), who throws acid at Vargas's face. In Welles' original script, the acid misses Vargas and hits a cat asleep in the trash. This was changed in the film and the acid instead explodes in a smoky hiss against the poster of the dead stripper.

As Quinlan leaves the back entrance of the Rancho Grande strip club, he is stopped by pianola music coming from a local brothel run by Marlene Dietrich (Universal Studios was later surprised and delighted to learn that Dietrich was in the film. They ended up paying her so they could give her billing, but she had been willing to be in it unbilled as a favor to Welles). Dietrich's brothel is a place of another era, complete with its pianola, mounted bull's head on the wall, and other aging artifacts. It's a place that Hemingway might've been comfortable in. Or Welles. As it is, it has been years since Quinlan had visited Tanya's (Marlene Dietrich) brothel, and at first she doesn't recognize him. When Quinlan wistfully identifies himself, Tanya prophetically warns him that he should lay off the candy bars. Even under all the padding and with camera angles to accentuate Quinlan's bulk, Welles was still a large man when he made Touch Evil (although he was going to get much larger) and he should've heeded that warning.

While Vargas is aiding in the investigation, Quinlan's partner Pete Menzies (played touchingly by Joseph Calleia) drives Susan Vargas to the Mirador Motel for protection against the Grandi gang (although, as it turns out the motel is owned by the Grandis) and to wait for her husband. The motel is both isolated and seedy, and the night clerk is played brilliantly by Dennis Weaver. Weaver's night clerk is a mass of spasms, twitches and leers. Someone who can barely make eye contact and jumps when Susan Vargas asks if he can make the bed, barking out the single question "Bed?" in return as if it were something fearsome and unholy. One can only wonder if watching Touch of Evil gave Hitchcock the idea of putting Janet Leigh in yet another bad motel setting. Quinlan's intuition leads him to suspect the dead man's daughter's boyfriend, a Mexican shoe clerk named Manolo Sanchez. Quinlan brings his fellow cops and prosecutors to Sanchez's claustrophobic shoebox-sized apartment, and then performs his sleight-of-hand -- hiding sticks of dynamite in a box so his unsuspecting partner will find them. As Quinlan waits for the dynamite to be discovered, he's an entertainer, amused by his own trickery. The problem though is the magic trick has been revealed -- Vargas had used the bathroom and knocked over the box where Quinlan later had planted the dynamite. He knows the box had been empty. He knows what Quinlan has done. The great magician has been exposed as a fake -- and Quinlan's reputation is in jeopardy of being destroyed. Quinlan is a corrupt cop but his motivation is because he knows he is greater than those mere mortals around him. He is doing nothing more than speeding up the convictions of the guilty. He doesn't financially profit from his corruption. In fact, later he demands from his partner, what has he got in life, a few acres and a turkey ranch? Critic Andre Bazin describes Quinlan as such:

Quinlan is physically monstrous, but is he morally monstrous? The answer is yes and no. Yes, because he is guilty of committing a crime to defend himself; no because from a higher moral standpoint , he is, at least in certain respects, above the honest, just, intelligent Vargas, who will always lack the sense of life which I call Shakespearean. These exceptional beings should not be judged by ordinary laws. They are both weaker and stronger than others. Weaker... [but] also so much stronger because directly in touch with the true nature of things, or perhaps one should say, with God.

Facing exposure and ruin, Quinlan enters an agreement with "Uncle" Joe Grandi, the new head of the Grandi organization. Joe Grandi, as played by Akim Tamiroff, is a wannabe Edward G. Robinson-type gangster, but is only comical and pathetic. An earlier scene has him running around with his toupee half off. Uncle Joe's plan is to frame Susan Vargas on trumped drug charges -- back at the Mirador Motel his gang had invaded Susan's room with a butched-up Mercedes McCambridge begging to be able to watch as gang members grab Susan's legs as she's dolled out in a negligee. Quinlan is now drinking for the first time in years, waiting until the last moment to go along with Uncle Joe's plans (in fact calling up headquarters at the last possible moment to see if Sanchez has confessed yet -- he may have framed him, but he intuitively knows the man is guilty). When Quinlan finally enters the cheap downtown hotel room where Grandi had Susan brought , she is in bed, unconscious, with reefers and heroin needles scattered about the room (as a concession to the times and the censors, she had been drugged with sodium pentothal - with nothing else done to her. Come on! Sodium pentothal? In real life, she would've been shot up with heroin, and each of the gang members -- including Mercedes McCambridge would've had a turn with her!). Quinlan has other plans -- namely to strangle Uncle Joe and leave his body with Susan. Quinlan's actual murder of Uncle Joe is a gruesome, violent scene, intentionally sexually charged. As Welles said in conversations with Peter Bogdanovich** "It was perverse and morbid... one of those go-as-far-as-you-can-go--in that kind of dirty department... when [Tamiroff] looked at the gun, it was every cock in the world. It was awful, the way he looked at it--made the whole scene possible." Make no mistake about it, this is an ugly scene. Tamiroff is a much smaller man than Welles, and is just about consumed by Welles. Tamiroff's character is dragged around the room, his shirt torn at the chest, his toupee knocked off. Eventually Quinlan strangles him with one of Susan's stockings, leaving Uncle Joe's face hanging over the bed, eyes bulging out by a nice effect of using painted contact lenses. Welles wanted the shot of the bulging eyes short enough so it would be almost subliminal -- something people wouldn't be quite sure they saw -- but the studio added extra frames to that shot. More on that later. When Quinlan leaves the room a close up of a sign on the door reads: 

Stop, Forget Anything, Leave Key at Desk.

After Quinlan leaves, Susan Vargas wakes up from her sodium pentothal-induced stupor to see Uncle Joe's dead bulging eyes staring at her and she runs screaming to the balcony. Later, after she's been arrested, Pete Menzies confronts Vargas. Quinlan had forgotten something in the hotel room. His cane. And Menzies had found it. He can no longer ignore the fact that he's been an unwitting dupe in framing scores of criminals (probably all guilty). He agrees to help Vargas uncover the truth about Quinlan by wearing a recording device. After the murder, Quinlan had holed up at Tanya's brothel. Drunk, he asks her to read his fortune. She tells him he has no future, it's been used up. Menzies later lures Quinlan out of the brothel so he can coax a confession out of him. Quinlan leads Menzies along a desolated area along the canal and oil derricks, while Vargas has to climb mountains of trash and wade through filth to try to record Quinlan's guilt. Eventually Quinlan incriminates himself, but with Vargas and his recording equipment under a bridge, an echo can be heard of Quinlan's voice, leading Quinlan to realize the level of betrayal. Quinlan shoots Menzies and then tries to kill Vargas before being shot by his dying partner. After Quinlan is shot he tells his partner that's the second bullet he's taken for him. For years that line puzzled viewers. The reason for that was in Welles original version, Menzies had earlier told Susan Vargas how Quinlan had taken a bullet for him -- saved his life, but left Quinlan with his limp and needing his cane. The studio edited version had cut the scene, and it wasn't until the 1998 version was released that the scene was re-added and Quinlan's last mocking line made sense. After being shot, Quinlan falls backward into the canal and the filth where he dies. Tanya arrives at the scene with the DA (who announces that Sanchez confessed to the crime after all) and provides as a eulogy to Quinlan: He was some kind of a man. What does it matter what you say about people?

Welles on Quinlan's betrayal***:

Quinlan is [Menzies's] God. And as Menzies adores him, the real theme of the script is betrayal; the terrible necessity for Menzies to betray his friend. And that's where there is ambiguity, because I don't know whether he should have betrayed him or not. No, I really don't know. I force Menzies to betray him, but the decision does not come from him, and frankly, in his place, I would not have done it!

While Welles was making Touch of Evil he was under the impression that he was going to be making more movies for Universal, that Touch of Evil was going to be his entry back into Hollywood. When the studio saw his final cut version, he was fired as director and barred from the lot. Touch of Evil is a wonderfully dark movie, but for 1958, it was probably too dark and too strange for Hollywood, and it hit on difficult themes: police corruption, racism and drugs. The studio must have felt as betrayed by Welles as he did by the studio. While Welles would make other films, notably Chimes at Midnight, The Trial and F is for Fake (along with a slew of half-finished films), this would be Welles last hollywood film. And as a final act of betrayal, the studio re-edited Touch of Evil. Welles would later write a 56-page memo requesting changes back to his original film, which the studio ignored (the 1998 version attempted to restore movie according to Welles memo). Funny how art mirrors life.

* Whit Masterson was a pseudonym for Wade Miller -- aka Robert Wade and William Miller.

** From This Is Orson Welles by Orson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich

*** From Orson Welles Interviews edited by Mark W. Estrin

I originally wrote this essay in 2006 for the Borderland Noir issue of Hardluck Stories edited by Craig McDonald.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

TROTSKY'S RUN by Richard Hoyt reviewed by Ben Boulden GRAVETAPPING





Posted: 18 Feb 2014 06:42 PM PST   review by Ben Boulden
Trotsky’s Run is my first experience with the work of Richard Hoyt.  It was published in 1982 by William Morrow, and I ran across the mass market edition released by TOR in 1983.  It is an espionage novel with a cleverly devised plot, humor, a little tradecraft, a bunch of history—both now and then—and a somewhat satirical view of cold war paranoia.

Two of the major players in the novel are historical figures.  Leon Trotsky and Kim Philby.  Trotsky’s role in the novel develops slowly as the novel unfolds, but Philby’s role is central and obvious.  Philby wants out of the Soviet Union—where he defected in 1963—and he has information to trade with the United States for safe passage. 

Philby’s claim is bombastic.  The likely victor of the upcoming presidential election is an officer of the KGB.  The information is received a few weeks before the election, and the CIA is in a quagmire.  Is Philby’s intelligence factual, or is it nothing more than Soviet disinformation.  A quick and dirty plan is hatched; two CIA officers will extract Philby from Yalta, where he is vacationing, and interrogate him to determine the validity of the evidence.

Trotsky’s Run is as smooth an espionage novel as you will read.  The prose is sparse and economical.  It is long on narrative and short on dialogue.  The plot is crisp, complicated, and at times outlandish—although not in bad way, but rather in a mildly satirical manner that feeds off extreme cold war paranoia. 

Kim Philby’s historical narrative is interesting and, what I know about his activities before he defected, even accurate.  His role in the capture and execution of dozens of agents in communist Albania, and in the capture of Soviet defector Konstantin Volkov are two of the more interesting, but also detailed—if briefly—Philby’s early marriage to a young Austrian communist in Vienna, and his later pro-fascist stint as a journalist in the Spanish Civil War.

Trotsky’s Run is an excellent novel.  It is witty and humorous—in the manner a suspense novel should be humorous, through the dialogue.  It is both intelligent and entertaining, and while the overarching plot is somewhat fantastical Mr Hoyt is able to make it seem believable by infusing the storyline with historical events and peoples—think Trotsky and Philby—that give it a certain plausibility.  

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

The Stark House newsletter


Hello, Everyone—
When I wished everybody a Happy New Year last time, I neglected to mention cold and flu season. It's miserable but can be an effective weight loss program. Like all such things, the problem isn't taking it off, it's keeping it off. Once you stumble out of bed. All told, the gym membership probably makes for a better resolution.
Read any good books lately? Hopefully you've delved into the Charles Williams volume that shipped last month and get your taste, be it new or a refresher, of this fine author.

Jada Davis
Jada M. Davis's wonderful and moving The Midnight Road is shipping this week and my guess is that at this time next year you'll see it on many "Best of" lists for 2014. James Reasoner already listed it for 2013 but he only saw an advanced copy. He listed it on his blog as a book "not even out yet that you need to remember so you can grab [one] later on":
MIDNIGHT ROAD, Jada Davis (another almost lost hardboiled masterpiece from Davis, and a fine coming-of-age novel at the same time)
Crime Club members should be receiving their books now, but if you're not a member and want a copy, remember all our books are shipped well-protected in wraparound cardboard containers--no envelopes here.


In the Department of Special Announcements, Stark House is quite proud to announce a forthcoming edition of  two of legendary author Ed Gorman's finest private eye novels, The Autumn Deadand The Night Remembers.

The Autumn Dead features Jack Dwyer, one-time cop now part-time actor and private investigator. The Night Remembers is the only full-length Jack Walsh novel. We'll update you more on these as the books make their way through the production process.



Closer to the release schedule, we have the forthcoming John Trinian volume going to the printer for review copies. That one features some fine writing by an enigmatic character who said of himself that he didn't write literature, he wrote pulp fiction. Trinian, whose real name was Zekial Marko, whose original name was Marvin Schmoker, clearly has a different idea of what "pulp fiction" means than most of the rest of us. He is the author of only seven novels, some more crime-oriented than others, but more literate character-based crime fiction would be difficult to find.

John Trinian
And once again, the standard disclaimer:
If you wish to get our latest releases still warm from the printer's pressers, you can always sign up for our Crime Book Club and take advantage of discounts and deals on back list titles for new members.

And if you wish to subscribe or even unsubscribe to this newsletter,drop us an e-mail and we will make it happen.

Cheers,

Rick Ollerman
Associate Editor,
Stark House Press
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Bring back the mystery!
Newsletter Home 

Tuesday, February 18, 2014

the great jake hinkson Noir’s Goon Squad: Dorothy Malone



So the sexy librarian image begins here!
So the sexy librarian image begins here!
The one scene that every film noir remembers Dorothy Malone for is her brief appearance in Howard Hawks’s 1946 adaptation of The Big Sleep.Private eye Philip Marlowe is investigating a phony bookshop that operates as the front for a pornography ring. He ducks into the legitimate book store across the street to see if the proprietress there can give him any info on her creepy neighbors. And who should he find except the prettiest girl in the world.

He questions her. Her hair is up and she’s wearing glasses—but she has that sexy librarian vibe, especially when she tells him, “You begin to interest me…vaguely.”

She tells him what he needs to know about the creep next door. He starts to leave, but it’s raining outside and when she says, “It’s coming down pretty hard out there” something in her voice insinuates that she’s not interested in the weather.
When she gives him the sexy librarian look again, he says, “You know, as it happens I have a bottle of pretty good rye in my pocket. I’d a lot rather get wet in here.”
She flips the sign and lowers the shade, takes off her glasses and lowers her hair. “Looks like we’re closed for the rest of the afternoon.”
And...fade to black.
That, folks, is how you implied fornication in 1946.
The scene is greatly expanded from Raymond Chandler’s source novel (Chandler’s Marlowe is far more sexually uptight—even repressed—than Hawks’s Marlowe). In keeping with the film’s freewheeling, let’s-just-be-entertaining ethos, the scene was included Hawks later said, “Just because the girl was so damn pretty.”


for the rest go here:
http://www.criminalelement.com/blogs/2013/02/noirs-goon-squad-dorothy-malone-jake-hinkson-detective-thriller-humphrey-bogartfilm-noir-big-sleep
She was pushed into roles like this one in Pushover...
She was pushed into roles like this one in Pushover...

Monday, February 17, 2014

Bill Crider's Murder Most Fowl Now Available as an E-Book!


Now Available as an E-Book!




















Amazon.com: Murder Most Fowl (Dan Rhodes Mysteries) eBook: Bill Crider: Kindle Store  Following Booked for a Hanging, Anthony Award-winner Bill Crider brings back his amiable, computer-phobic sheriff Dan Rhodes to investigate a murder that may or may not be related to a recent wave of emu-rustling. For an officer of the law, Blacklin County, Texas, used to be pretty peaceful, but now, what with the emu-rustling, cockfights, and protests at the new Wal-Mart store — not to mention murder — Sheriff Dan Rhodes has his hands full. Hit hard by the collapse of his little hardware store, Elijah ("Lige") Ward has taken to chaining himself to the Wal-Mart doors and generally making a nuisance of himself. And when Lige's dead body turns up, floating down a river in a portable toilet, Rhodes finds he has quite a case to investigate. What was the connection between Lige and chickens? Lige and the Palm Club? And was he involved in the area's emu thefts? It seems that raising emus ("taste like steak, not chicken") is a booming business, so much so that emu ("calmer than ostriches and more resistant to disease") are being stolen left, right, and center by would-be emu ranchers with little respect for the law. From theft to murder, the local crime spree seems unstoppable. But with a little help from the computer foisted on him by aging deputies Hack and Lawton, plus some good old-fashioned detective work, Rhodes just may be able to straighten out his county.

And for those who have Nooks, it's here.




Ralph Dennis He coulda been a contenda From the gret Johnny aRue's Crane Shot























First, let me give Popular Library's Hardman series my highest recommendation.

In all honesty, Ralph Dennis' adventures of unlicensed P.I. Jim 

Hardman and his black sidekick Hump Evans don't really belong in the "men's adventure" genre. All twelve books are more like detective novels than slam-bang sleaze and action. Hardman has been compared toSpenser and Rockford, and I would go along with that.

However, because Popular Library packaged them as men's adventure, including numbering the titles and giving them violent painted covers, I'll cover them as such here. But whichever genre you like better, you should definitely seek out the Hardman books.

They were written by Atlanta-based author Ralph Dennis in the 1970s. Instead of getting into Dennis' bio, I'll send you to mystery writer Richard A. Moore's excellent article on him.

As for 1974's DOWN AMONG THE JOCKS, the fifth Hardman novel, well, it's pretty darn great. It begins with Hardman and Evans viewing an 8mm film Hump received anonymously in the mail. It features one of Hump's former NFL teammates, a real asshole named Ed Cross, in bed with two women. That same night, Cross is found beaten to death, and the prime suspects are Hump and four other guys who received the same film. The theory is that Cross sent the film to men whose girlfriends or daughters he had slept with as a "screw you." That's the kind of guy Ed Cross was.


Sunday, February 16, 2014

Laura Lippman: By the Book the New York Times




Laura Lippman: By the Book



The author, most recently, of “After I’m Gone” likes books steeped in the quotidian. “You can learn how to run a chicken-and-waffle restaurant by reading ‘Mildred Pierce.’ ”
What’s the best book you’ve read recently? 
My reading life is like an airport where a bunch of planes circle in a holding pattern, then — boom, boom, boom, several come in for a landing. So I have three: Helen FitzGerald’s “The Cry,” Elizabeth Hand’s “Illyria” and Tom Nissley’s “A Reader’s Book of Days.” “The Cry” tackles the toughest subject in crime fiction, the death of an infant, and it surprised me, which is rare when I’m reading crime fiction. Hand’s book is a Y.A. literary mash-up of “Flowers in the Attic” and Noel Streatfeild’s “Theater Shoes.” Nissley’s book offers monthly reading lists, and I’m a sucker for such lists. January includes H. P. Lovecraft, Zadie Smith and Arthur Hailey — what’s not to love? 
Your husband is David Simon, creator of “The Wire” and co-creator of “Treme.” Do you share the same taste in literature? Has either of you opened the other up to different kinds of book or favorite authors? 
I don’t read enough nonfiction, and David tends to read fiction as homework for new projects. (A bunch of books about the Spanish Civil War and the Abraham Lincoln Brigade showed up in the house recently.) But David’s reading more novels by women, and I’ve started Sheri Fink’s “Five Days at Memorial.”
Both of you are former journalists. How has that experience affected your sense of story? To what extent do your novels arise from the reporting you did at The San Antonio Light and The Baltimore Sun? 
In my newspaper days, your endings could be literally sliced off in the composing room, so it was dangerous to get attached to them. Yet I think this has made me work harder on endings in fiction. Twenty years as a reporter left me with a healthy but not obsessive desire to get things right, as did Mary McCarthy’s “The Fact in Fiction,” a seminal essay for me. It also left me with a real distaste for anyone who fabricates, or passes off nonfiction as fiction, and yes, I’m sorry but that includes David Foster Wallace.
Sell us on your favorite overlooked or underappreciated writer. 
Edward Eager wrote a series of children’s books that are in danger of being forgotten. But they’re divine, stories about ordinary kids who stumble on magical things — a coin, a lake, a book, a thyme garden, a well. The magic changes them, they try to change the magic, the magic moves on. Great female characters, too — strong, smart, capable, not killjoys. “Half Magic” is his masterpiece, but I have a soft spot for “Knight’s Castle,” which is set in Baltimore.
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/16/books/review/laura-lippman-by-the-book.html?ref=books