Tag Archives: Rowman & Littlefield

May 4, 2016 · 3:55 pm

Book Review: REFOCUSING CHAPLIN

The Little Tramp off into the sunset. Illustration by Henry Chamberlain

Aristotle speaks of the mimesis of the first order and the mimesis of the second order. When creating art, the goal is to distance oneself from the source. Mimesis of the first order is simply art imitating nature. Mimesis of the second order is art perfecting nature and turning it into something transcendent. That rule is certainly at play in the work of Charlie Chaplin. As Marco Grosoli points out in his essay on Chaplin, this was an artist keenly aware of his myth and in a unique position to go on to make great art from that myth. Marco Grosoli’s fascinating essay is part of a collection of essays from various writers on one of the masters of cinema, “Refocusing Chaplin,” published by Rowman & Littlefield.

There may never be another artist quite like Charlie Chaplin. However, his influence and relevance continues to evolve. And so that gives this collection of essays a great sense of urgency. In the same way that an artist of the first rank like Ray Bradbury could have anticipated social media some fifty years ago, so too did Charlie Chaplin foresee the power of a meme in a career that began over one hundred years ago. To say that Charlie Chaplin was beyond famous is an understatement. He reached the level of myth. It is not short of phenomenal that he continued to grow as an artist through a career that spanned the evolution of cinema.

Chaplin in 1940’s “The Great Dictator”

In Marco Grosoli’s essay, he examines the friction between two formidable myths in Chaplin’s “The Great Dictator,” from 1940. By then, Chaplin was more than ready to leverage some of his celebrity for the sake of his art. The timing could not have been more perfect. The difference between the myth of Hitler and Chaplin could not have been more extreme. As Grosoli indicates, Chaplin was not merely imitating Hitler. Chaplin was channeling the myth of Hitler. In that respect, Chaplin was getting at a greater truth. In a work that deeply explores the power of meme, Chaplin plays both the role of Dictator Adenoid Hynkel and a Jewish barber who looks identical to Hynkel. Dictator and barber are, in a sense, interchangeable. In the proper costume and context, everyone accepts whatever the Jewish barber has to say, dressed as Hynkel, even if it is the total opposite of what Hynkel would say. Push two extremes together, Grosoli suggests, and they strangely equate each other, form a perfect nothingness.

“Refocusing Chaplin: A Screen Icon Through Critical Lenses”

Essays in this collection feature a wide spectrum of themes including Marxism, feminism, gender studies, deconstruction, psychoanalytic criticism, new historicism, performance studies, and cultural criticism. This critical study covers a wide reach of films including The Circus (1928), The Gold Rush (1925), City Lights (1931) Modern Times (1936), The Great Dictator (1940), Monsieur Verdoux (1947), and Limelight (1952). This collection proves to be a valuable resource on one of the leading masters of cinema.

“Refocusing Chaplin: A Screen Icon through Critical Lenses” is a 250-page hardcover, published by Rowman & Littlefield. Visit them right here.

Review: ‘A Year of Movies: 365 Films to Watch on the Date They Happened’ by Ivan Walters

Watching “Groundhog Day” on Groundhog Day! Illustration by Henry Chamberlain

On February 2nd, Groundhog Day, if it’s cloudy when the groundhog emerges from its burrow, spring will come early. If it’s sunny, then the groundhog will see its shadow and there will be six more weeks of winter. So goes the folktale. What better way to celebrate this holiday than by viewing 1993’s “Groundhog Day,” starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell? It’s an idea that totally makes sense to author Ivan Walters. He takes that even further by offering you a movie for every single day of the year. He provides vital info on his featured choice, a synopsis, plus an alternate pick. The book is entitled, “A Year of Movies: 365 Films to Watch on the Date They Happened,” published by Rowman & Littlefield.

It’s quite a brilliant concept. The trick is to find an explicit mention of a date in a movie. Inevitably, the date is either crucial to the plot or is part of a pivotal moment in the movie. For instance, say you wanted to view a movie that has a significant attachment to the day that this review is posted, January 18th. That date leads you to 1976’s “Logan’s Run.” and a pivotal scene. To quote the book: “Logan, Jessica, and the old man return to the city on January 18th, 2274 (1:43:40 to 1:56:39), for a confrontation that will change their world forever.”

This book has a high fun factor to it. Many of the movies are within the last 20 to 30 years with a generous helping of older classics like 1941’s “Citizen Kane.” It is a refreshing and entertaining way to look at movies. It becomes an offbeat game anyone can enjoy while also providing insight. I like how the book kicks off with 1976’s “Rocky.” January is so symbolic, full of hope and fresh starts. I think of “Rocky” as that quintessential shaggy dog story about self-empowerment and beating the odds. Great idea to have set the big fight on New Years Day, January 1st, 1976. Not all the dates are so easy to spot. In the case of “Citizen Kane,” for example, it is attached to December 4th 1919, the date that Kane’s mistress-turned-wife has a nervous breakdown and ends her floundering career as an opera singer. Kane’s world steadily darkens from that point onward.

“A Year of Movies: 365 Films to Watch on the Date They Happened” is a 454-page hardcover. For more details, visit our friends at Rowman & Littlefield right here.

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Filed under Book Reviews, Books, Entertainment, Groundhog Day, Hollywood, Illustration, Logan's Run, Movie Reviews, movies, pop culture, Rowman & Littlefield

Tagged as Book Reviews, Books, Entertainment, Groundhog Day, Hollywood, Illustration, Media, Movies, Pop Culture, Publishing, Rowman & Littlefield

December 22, 2015 · 1:11 pm

Review: ‘Reading Richard Matheson: A Critical Survey’

“I Am Legend” by Richard Matheson. Illustration by Henry Chamberlain.

The work of Richard Matheson (1926-2013) is certainly suitable for in-depth analysis. It is through an academic lens that you can plumb such insights as the one about the recurring nemesis in Matheson’s groundbreaking novel, “I Am Legend.” As Charles Hoge describes, in this first survey of its kind, the neighbor-turned-vampire who repeatedly taunts the protagonist is part of a literary tradition dating back hundreds of years. Instead of being hidden away in Bavarian castles, vampires were known to call out their victims from their own village. It is a simple distinction like that which Matheson runs with to create one of the most influential books in pop culture.

It was this seismic shift from monsters in castles to monsters in the suburbs that would change everything and influence everyone from George Romero to Stephen King. Yes, you can thank Richard Matheson for the zombie apocalypse. He essentially invented it with his 1954 horror novel, “I Am Legend.” Well, there’s more to it. And you can dig deeper in this first ever substantial study, “Reading Richard Matheson: A Critical Survey,” edited by Cheyenne Mathews and Janet V. Haedicke, published by Rowman & Littlefield.

The original “I Am Legend” novel is an elegant and tightly written work. Our protagonist, Robert Neville, must figure out, with Sherlockian exactitude, what has brought about a world-wide pandemic of vampires. It is a prime example of work from the first phase of Matheson’s career. The theme here is man as victim of his own environment. By the time of Matheson’s work on the landmark television series, The Twilight Zone, his theme has broadened to man as victim of his own making. Within these two themes, a multitude of work can be examined. It is with this survey that we receive an essential collection of serious thought on a writer who Stephen King has ranked with Poe and Lovecraft.

In a piece that focuses on the noir character of The Twilight Zone, Cheyenne Mathews demonstrates both Matheson’s artistry and how well The Twilight Zone holds up to critical scrutiny. Cheyenne writes: “Through science fiction tropes of time travel, alternate realities, and new technologies, Matheson emphasizes the physical and social displacement that afflicted both men and women during the attempted postwar return to normality.” And, in describing what is considered the most noir Twilight Zone episode, “Night Call,” Mathews writes: “The second act of the episode conflates Elva’s personal anxieties with her social alienation, as she becomes increasingly disconnected from the other characters, who attempt to downplay her distress.” Of course, there is Matheson’s most celebrated TZ episode, “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” but, as Mathews makes clear, it is part of a bigger picture. Outside of Rod Serling, who wrote the majority of scripts, Matheson wrote the most episodes and they were all gems.

A man of his time, and ahead of his time, Richard Matheson has secured a place for himself within not only great science fiction, horror, and fantasy, but great fiction in general. Ultimately, Matheson’s work strikes a universal chord. We can explore the specific era he worked in and how he spoke to concerns of postwar paranoia and shifting gender roles; and, like Kafka, we can place him within some of the most eloquent writers on the human condition. Matheson was weary of being labeled a genre writer. Perhaps one of his fellow writers and friends, George Clayton Johnson, summed it up best when he said of Matheson that he was one of the “serious storytellers whose works were artful gems of wisdom fiction.”

“Reading Richard Matheson: A Critical Survey” is essential reading for anyone interested in understanding the origins of today’s pop culture at a deeper level and gaining a greater appreciation of the work of Richard Matheson.