Max Allan Collins's Blog, page 12

Quarry’s Return, Rodriguez, Barry Newman & William Friedkin

I have completed Quarry’s Return and shipped it to my editor Charles Ardai of Hard Case Crime and to my longtime agent, Dominick Abel. This included a long day of re-reading the 60,000-word manuscript and another day of entering my tweaks and corrections, assembling the chapter files into one big file, and doing a conversion from Word Perfect to Word, followed by a page-by-page check for glitches (and there were some).

This was something of a test case for me, as I have (as regular readers of this update/blog know) been dealing with health issues. My wife Barb has been encouraging me to slow down the writing process, and I have to a degree, but my approach is dependent to some degree on momentum, so I like to get a book done in as short a time as possible because I believe the narrative drive benefits.

This is the second novel I’ve written this year. The Mike Hammer novel, Dig Two Graves, was written starting in February and March. It’s a fairly short book, about 50,000 words, and I wrote it in three weeks, which impressed and sort of irritated Barb, who spends six months on her Antiques drafts before handing one over to me.

Between the two books I’ve written several book proposals, a short story with Matt Clemens (just sold to Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine!), and revised a couple of screenplays. Also, we completed the expansion of the Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane documentary and the edit on Mickey Spillane’s Encore for Murder, both with VCI releases yet this year.

The month I spent on Quarry’s Return included my hospital visit for a heart procedure, followed by a complication from which I am still recuperating (but doing very well). I only lost about three writing days due to the procedure – writing seems to be something I can do and feel “normal” doing, even when I’m under the weather.

Quarry’s Return is a coda to a coda, the latter being Quarry’s Blood. I did not expect to be writing about the older Quarry again (the Quarry who is about my age), but that’s the story that occurred to me and that my editor liked the sound of. What transpired was a novel that took Quarry back to Port City, Iowa – the site of his first recorded adventure, Quarry AKA The Broker (1976) – which plays into the title and to the coda of coda notion.

Will there be more Quarry? As long as there is more of me, probably…though any subsequent Quarry novel will likely be set in the past, as the other HCC Quarry books have been.

Quarry’s Return feels like a good one, but until I hear from Charles and Dominick, I won’t know for sure. Turning a novel in can be followed by requested rewrites in some cases. To me, it’s a nice combo of the Richard Stark-inspired crime novel side of the series and the Mickey Spillane-inspired private eye aspect of the series…in addition to being a hitman (various varieties of which depend on where a story falls in the timeline), Quarry often acts as a sort of P.I. That’s even got him occasionally nominated for a Shamus award from the Private Eye Writers of America.

The novel also has my trademark combination of human sentiment and inhuman behavior that no doubt confuses some, and keeps me off some readers’ preferred reading list.

I don’t recall when it’s scheduled to come out. Probably 2024. I’ll let you know here.

* * *

I have several meetings this week as we move into serious pre-production on my micro-budget movie, Blue Christmas. We suffered a blow when (apparently) we did not receive any Greenlight grant money. That parenthetical “apparently” reflects the failure of the program to come even close to when they were supposed to reveal the results of the competition, which they haven’t officially yet.

This blow puts us further into the micro budget area, and decisions have to be made, and will be made shortly. But unless my health intrudes, I intend to will this sucker into existence. I have great help from my collaborators Phil Dingeldein, Liz Toal and Chad Bishop.

I want to spend at least part of the next few years returning to film projects – sort of my last chance to do so.

Phil and Liz and I, and my Hollywood “guy” Ken Levin, are working hard to get my horror film Reincarnal made. Some of you have read the novella it’s based on, the title story in a Wolfpack collection of mine (Amazon link). [And in the soon-to-be-released Max Allan Collins Collection Volume Four: Dark Suspense (Amazon link) – Nate]

I am in early stages of working with Phil, Mike Bawden and the great Robert Meyer Burnett to create a Heller podcast series that would, we hope, seed the clouds for a Nathan Heller movie or TV series. A long ago project that I was working on for (and with) the late Miguel Ferrer – a film based on my novella Dying in the Post-war World – is in the mix.

We still have an eye on getting Road to Purgatory produced. I have the rights back on my screenplay from my novel, the direct sequel to Road to Perdition.

Other things whirling in the currently strike-stalled land of the wooded holly: the recently announced Mike Hammer feature film from Skydance; a Nolan movie from Lionsgate; and an Eliot Ness in Cleveland mini-series from CBS Films.

Sounds glittering and great, huh?

If I were confident about the big-time stuff happening, would I be preparing to do a micro-budget Christmas movie?

I ask you.

* * *

Among the bad things about writing a weekly update like this at my age is how many people I admire do us the disservice of dying.

But two of my favorites have passed and I must comment.

Rodriguez is a musical artist I discovered recently, thanks to my guitarist in Crusin’, Bill Anson, turning me onto him. I’d had the documentary Searching for Sugarman (2012) on my DVD shelf for some time – my agent gave it to me for Christmas years ago – but had not gotten around to watching it. I finally did, and if you haven’t seen it, you need to.

The basic story is simple if incredible. A talented singer/songwriter out of Detroit, Rodriguez made two wonderful albums (Cold Fact, 1970, and Coming from Reality, 1971) that were mostly overlooked by critics and completely overlooked by the public. He returned to a life divided between playing in small venues and doing day labor, taking great pride in the latter. He essentially fell off the national grid, and legends grew up about him dying on stage, sometimes committing suicide at the end of his set. He became huge in South Africa and popular in Australia, as well, and continued to be unknown here until the documentary came out in 2012.

Some of you know that I am not a fan of Bob Dylan the vocalist, though I like much of his songwriting. His nasal off-key singing is fingernails-on-the-blackboard stuff to me, though I find it interesting that both Tom Petty and John Lennon used him as a vocal role model, but did so by restoring the concept of singing in key.

Rodriguez is often compared to Dylan, but it’s a pretty shallow comparison. You can’t deny Dylan was a prolific singer/songwriter, and his catalogue of compositions is staggeringly large and impressive. Rodriguez did two albums of beautiful melodies and poetic skill in a warm, eccentric vocal style that displayed a limited vocal range but is the perfect vehicle for emotional material delivered from a cool distance.

He’s great.

And he’s gone, at 81. After his discovery made him if not a household word but at least well-known among popular music buffs, new albums from him were limited to a couple of live performance CD’s. He copped to having continued his songwriting all those years, but no new album emerged. I am hopeful that there’s a vault somewhere at his regular label, Light in the Attic Records, that will bring more of his material to light.

* * *

My friend Bob King edits the great Classics Images (published right here in Muscatine, Iowa), in which he covers all kinds of wonderful mainstream and obscure aspects of classic Hollywood. I always check the obituaries (like George Burns, I’m checking to see if I’m there) and now and then a shock comes to the system: Barry Newman has died at 92.

Barry Newman was – no, damnit, is – one of my favorite actors. He came out of the gate fast and was a popular leading man and unlikely action star in the 1970s. He top-billed the cult classic Vanishing Point (1971) as well as Fear Is the Key (1972), and The Salzburg Connection (1972). He later became a star of TV movies, headlining twenty films in the ‘80s. Later he turned up now and then in bigtime films like Daylight (for which I wrote the novelization), The Limey and Bowfinger. But largely he fell off the radar. I never understood that and still don’t.

He made his first splash in The Lawyer (1970), which was based on the Sam Sheppard murder case and evolved from an intended biopic of then famous attorney F. Lee Bailey. His charismatic performance as the title lawyer, Anthony Petrocelli, led to a TV movie (Night Games 1974)) as that character and the two-season, Emmy-nominated Petrocelli TV series (1974-1976). The showstopping aspect of The Lawyer was Newman’s outrageous courtroom performance topped by his summation to the jury, in which he presented an alternate version of the crime to interpret the facts that ultimately got his client sprung. This trademark jury summation followed Newman and the character into the series.

Much of Newman’s success in The Lawyer is due to the dynamic direction of Sidney J. Furie, who put Michael Caine on the map in The Ipcress File (1965). But Newman rose to the occasion.

I got in touch with him a few years ago, in part because I’d written an introductory piece about The Lawyer and Petrocelli for a Bear Manor Media book about the TV series. Mostly I wanted to get in touch with him because it was The Lawyer (more than The Fugitive) that made me want to do a Nathan Heller novel about the Sheppard case.

When I called him – this is typical Newman behavior – he answered in an old man voice and pretended to be his own grandfather. When he determined who I was, and that I was worth talking to, he became Barry Newman again and might have been thirty or thirty-five, judging by voice alone. We had several wonderful phone conversations and I sent him my Sheppard “Nathan Heller” novel, Do No Harm (2020). He is thanked and recognized in both the text of the novel and the afterword.

He was very complimentary about my essay about him and his work on The Lawyer, and was nice enough to say that my piece was his favorite thing in the Bear Manor Media Book, which you can buy here.

The TV series is available here.

Unfortunately The Lawyer is not available legally on physical media, other than in the wonderful but expensive Sidney J. Furie boxed set currently out of print (but you can find it on e-bay).

The Lawyer is available on Amazon Prime.

I intended to call Newman to congratulate him on the Blu-ray box with The Lawyer finally doing him and that film justice. But I hadn’t got around to it. I do know that he and director Furie were trying to put a movie together with Newman starring. This was just before Covid hit.

But somehow I find it reassuring that in his late eighties, Barry Newman was looking for the next project.

* * *

I mentioned here that Robert Meyer Burnett’s enthusiasm for To Live and Die in L.A. (1985) had found me ordering a film that I’d despised in the theater on its first release.

I do occasionally discover a film I’d not enjoyed years ago turning out to strike me differently today. But I am more inclined to continue liking the films that I liked then. If you had asked me for a list of my favorite films, in 1985, I’d have said, Vertigo, Kiss Me Deadly, Gun Crazy, Chinatown and How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (can you spot the non-noir in that list?). I would have cited Alfred Hitchcock and Joseph Lewis as my favorite directors, and James Bond as my favorite film series. Hardly any change.

Revisiting To Live and Die in L.A. was a different ride. First off, its star – William Peterson – I have always liked, going back to Manhunter (1986) and Long Gone (1987); and I did (with Matt Clemens) my long run of CSI novels, comics and even video games with Peterson playing Gil Grissom not only on TV but in the theater of my mind. He even spoke my dialogue in the CSI video games.

What quickly became clear to me (I’d probably noticed this on first viewing, too) was that director William Friedkin was doing a West Coast variation on his very successful East Coast cop thriller, The French Connection. I’ve liked a lot of what Friedkin did, but I don’t think he ever topped The Exorcist and The French Connection.

His work generally strikes me as that of someone who is a great storyteller but not a great writer. He is at his best adapting a novel or play or non-fiction work. Left to his own devices, he can create a vivid movie filled with compelling scenes, and To Live and Die in L.A. certainly qualifies in that regard.

And it’s based on a book, but not a particularly good one. I don’t like to comment on other novelists’ stuff, so that’s all I’ll say.

But this narrative, as presented by Friedkin, has so many cliches, it’s no wonder it pissed me off in 1986. And, look, Friedkin was thinking about doing my True Detective and did this movie instead, which at the time undoubtedly pissed me off. Still, this is a movie that begins with the young lead character’s veteran cop partner having only three more days on the job, with only one dangerous gig ahead. This is a character who says the immortal line, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

It’s also a cop movie where the naive, idealistic new partner eventually becomes the continuation of the corrupt veteran partner who has died in the line of duty. That this is an unbelievable character shift is in no way justified.

Many of the semi-improvised scenes work, a good number do not. It does have some interesting female characters and a car chase designed to out-do the famous one in French Connection. And it comes very close.

I now like this movie, with reservations. Like a beautiful pock-marked woman. SPOILER ALERT: …… killing the lead with fifteen minutes of the movie left was a bold move that irritated me then and makes me smile and nod now.

Incidentally, I accidentally ordered the Blu-ray, not the highly regarded 4K disc. They share the same transfer and special features and I thought it looked fantastic.

I should say that the fuss over 4K may be at least partially dependent on the size of your TV. I have three TVs – a 55″ flat screen in the living room (with a shallow viewing distance between my recliner and the screen), a 45″ TV in my office, and a 19″ tube TV also in my office, for viewing laser discs. The 55″ is from a brief period where you could find monitors that could present both 3-D and 4K. My 45″ is 3-D but not 4K.

Why do I mention this? Because some people say that you need 65″ or larger to appreciate the difference between Blu-ray and 4K. This isn’t entirely true, but there’s something to it. The Blu-ray of To Live and Die in L.A., which I almost sent back unopened to exchange against the 4K, really does look excellent on my 55″ screen.

And for me having the ability to screen 3-D is a must. I have too deep a 3-D library to feel otherwise.

I am also not as attuned (shall we say) to sound. I have a sound bar with a sub woofer and to me everything sounds great. Terms like Dolby Atmos and DTS and 7.1 are outside my area of interest and expertise. For one thing, the reality of my life is that once Barb goes to bed (at 10 pm) I can’t watch anything loud, anyway. I usually watch with subtitles, and still get scolded by the angry woman who storms out, my charming understanding bride having been somehow absconded and replaced by this unforgiving one.

It’s not unlike my situation where my collector gene comes in conflict with my realization that at my age, I have better ways to spend my time and money than upgrading everything from Blu-ray to 4K, and spending big bucks on collector sets with lobby cards and booklets and do-dads that I’ll look at once, smile, and stow away.

* * *

Here’s an article about filmmaking in the Quad Cities, covering a gathering at Phil Dingeldein’s dphilms stuido.

M.A.C.

William Friedkin, Collector Burn-Out, Bargains & Batman

First, I want to share two very good deals with you.

Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction by Jim Traylor and me is 50% off (!) at Barnes & Noble. Going for a mere $13.47 for this hardcover thing of beauty. If you’ve been waiting to spring for a copy, now’s the time.

The Long Wait, one of the best Spillane movie adaptations (it stars Anthony Quinn!) is on sale, a combo 4k and Blu-ray package. Even if you don’t have 4K, the Blu-ray alone is well worth the price. I did the commentary and provided an extensive gallery of stills. From Classic Flix, $21.98 (regularly $39.99).

* * *

I’ve fallen a little behind writing Quarry’s Return because of what I’d been told would be a simple out-patient procedure. First of all, that may have been simple for the surgeon but for me it was a long day of assorted inconvenience and unpleasantness.

Then I was sent home with a complication waiting to kick in — bleeding that wouldn’t stop — but an ER trip the next day to get some stitching up (in a good way) has me doing much better. But I have had to recuperate all (and some of next) week.

For the first time since 1965 (!) I had to cancel a band job (actually, we were able to swap places on the roster of Second Sunday concerts here in Muscatine, allowing me to trade August for September (not a bad trade generally). Crusin’ will appear at 5 pm on Sunday September 10.

* * *

Robert Meyer Burnett, one of my two favorite pop culture podcasters, discusses Friedkin below. He also discusses Friedkin on his weekly Midnight Musings, but that goes far afield including a discussion of the anniversary of Hip Hop.

Here’s my mini-memoir about Friedkin, which I shared with Burnett the night of my hospital procedure – hence a tad fried.

I Slept in William Friedkin’s Guest House

My wife Barb and I were guests of Friedkin by way of his then-wife Kelly Lange, the LA newscaster. Miguel was going with (they were engaged at the time) Kelly Lange’s daughter, whose name was also Kelly (her mother’s real name was, I believe, Dorothy). Kelly Jr. was funny and sweet and a babe, and I thought Miguel had done very well for himself. No idea what happened there, but Miguel and BIll Mumy and Steve Leialoha and I were at the time in the process of putting our band Seduction of the Innocent together to play at San Diego Comic Con. We’d go on to perform there around half a dozen times and at a few other comics cons and once for a comic book shop that rented out the Ferris Wheel hall for us at the Santa Monica Pier. One of our roadies was Brandon Lee.

Seduction of the Innocent, Santa Monica Pier

I am, as you know, from a small town in Iowa. I never did the con circuit, just San Diego Con. There is little reason why I should have otherwise encountered anybody famous. But my early Nate Heller novels had ridden my comic book Ms. Tree’s coattails to some geek recognition; so had the fact that I was the second guy after Chester Gould to write the Dick Tracy strip. How Bill, Miguel, Steve and I got together is for another time. (Chris Christensen came a little later.)

Where he hell is Billy Friedkin in this? Patience.

Kelly Jr. gave us a tour of Friedkin’s house. He and Kelly Sr. were away. (Honeymooning, my memory wants me to believe.) I remember a vast ornate bed with black sheets. In the living room were a few huge framed vintage movie posters from famous films…of the ’20s and ’30s.

By way of thank you, I left a copy of the first Heller, True Detective, for Friedkin with a fannish inscription. And of course I hoped he’d read it. He got in touch with me by phone, leaving a message, wanting to inform me of something. For that to mean anything, I have to describe the first section (briefly) of True Detective.

Young police detective Nate Heller is drinking rum out of a coffee cup in a speak when the cops known as the Two Harrys come in and grab him to come along on a bust, telling him nothing more. They are Mayor Anton Cermak’s two-man “Gangster Squad.” In a sports book on a high floor of a Loop building overlooking the Chicago River, the Two Harrys roust Frank Nitti himself. They shoot him several times in the neck and back, leaving him to bleed and die. They send the horrified and very pissed Heller (he will have to share the blame for this!) in to make routine arrests in the sports book, but a guy heads for a window and the fire escape. Heller tells him to stop and he doesn’t and Heller shoots him (“He wasn’t in the window anymore”). Heller decides to quit the force, not because it’s corrupt or even because for the first time he’s killed somebody (the graft is why he had a rich uncle get him on — it’s the Depression) and, in exchange for providing building security for his childhood friend, boxer Barney Ross, he gets a one-room office over Barney’s speak (aka Blind Pig) where he works as a PI (and sleeps on a Murphy bed).

Where the fuck is Friedkin?

So the two Harrys come around in the middle of the night at Heller’s flop, having heard Heller quit the force, and drag him to see Mayor Cermak at the Congress Hotel. Heller, who is young and tough and has scruples when necessary, is asked by Cermak why he (Heller) quit the PD. Heller turns down an offer to become the third man on the mayor’s Gangster Squad; but promises if his new one-man PI business is left alone, he’ll say whatever is necessary at the inquest and later trial. Having made this deal, Heller leaves but knows he’s now on Frank Nitti’s shit, er, hit list. Middle of the night, he’s hauled by Outfit gangsters to a suburban hospital to see Nitti…WHO HAS SURVIVED (historically, this happened — the whole Nitti roust is real, except for my substituting Nate Heller for the compromised young cop). Nitti gives Heller a pass, because it’ll give him an inside man with Cermak, who is soon to head to Miami (where of course history thinks the assassination target was FDR when it was actually Cermak).

That’s all 1933.

Around 1987, William Friedkin contacts this punk kid mystery writer in Iowa who somehow — it’s crazy — not only slept in his guest house, but knows about his Uncle Harry! Harry Lang, who was a Chicago cop in the ’30s! And he wants to know all about the Nitti hit. Friedkin told me his uncle was exactly that guy, the Harry Lang was who half of the two Harrys (I used photographs in the book, and Friedkin said he was flipping through and saw his uncle’s picture!).

There was talk of Friedkin making True Detective but that obviously didn’t happen. He was making TV movies at time — C.A.T. Squad…with Miguel.

Now they are both gone.

There’s a bittersweet postscript: Jason Miller was one of the stars of my little indie feature Mommy.

* * *

Heath Holland (my other favorite pop culture podcaster) at Cereal at Midnight discusses collecting burn-out, and I am given an extensive shout-out.

I wrote Heath with the following response:

I am honored to have been invoked on Cereal at Midnight. Got a real kick out of it.

And what an excellent, frank discussion of a real problem. I wrestle with the collecting bug constantly. And, despite a decent income, I spend way too much. My wife sees me watching you or Burnett or another three or four unboxing type podcasts and says, “This doesn’t mean you’re getting more ideas about what to buy, does it?” Not in the most loving voice.

What resonated with me most was one word you used: obligation.

This is when your collection starts to own you. This sounds ridiculous, but the main thing I am trying to do is not buy anything I don’t like or am probably not disposed to like. For example. Jess Franco — I have bought a lot of Franco stuff because of the enthusiasm of so many for his work in this hobby. There’s a line of European horror that came out some time ago that I was (wait for it) attempting to get every numbered spine, which meant every damn release. That line-up included at least half a dozen Franco titles. How could I not own them? They had numbers on the spine that I needed!

But I freed myself and got rid of them. Jean Rollin is constantly hyped and I know smart people who like those movies, but I am not one of them. Yet I bought them (and have since dumped them). I see podcasts from people, like Brandon Chowen (I think is the spelling), whose enthusiasm I get a kick out of…but he’s clearly not watching much of what he’s buying. He’s collecting stuff by directors he’s heard are good and intends to watch one day…but shouldn’t we be collecting because we like something already? Or contains cast/director/writer/genre that means we’d probably be inclined to like it?

That doesn’t mean I am entirely rational. I will get a film noir I don’t particularly like, because that’s a collection I want to maintain. I will hold onto any Hitchcock title, whether I like it or not, because I generally love him and I have a completist streak. Ditto Joseph H. Lewis or Sam Fuller or Brian DePalma. But if it’s a journeyman director, who is sometimes good, sometimes okay, sometimes bad, why not keep just the good?

And as you point out — time is distressingly, frustratingly limited. I am in my seventies…who am I trying to kid about ever watching a fraction of what I’ve collected?

This is art we’re collecting, not baseball cards.

But it’s hard. So hard. I hated To Live and Die in L.A. when I saw it in the theater. Hated it so much it pissed me off. And then I hear Rob Burnett enthuse over it, rhapsodize over it…and I ordered a copy. Arggggggh!

That’s the new rule I want to follow, and it is stupidly obvious: only buy, only keep, what you like. You don’t even have to love it. But at least like it.

* * *

This is a long overdue (in my biased opinion) discussion of why I deserve some credit for the popular Batman character, Harley Quinn.

And the same site, apparently taking the unpopular stand of defending my Batman run, discusses my Robin and how he and I are misunderstood.

Finally, here’s a great review of Fancy Anders Goes to War.

M.A.C.

R.I.Pee Wee, Mike Hammer at the Movies, E-Bay Deals

The big news this week should be that the long impending Mike Hammer movie deal with Skydance has solidified, and been announced in all the trades. The upside is that Skydance has purchased the film rights for the entire franchise, which includes the books I’ve co-authored. The downside is…things like this, announced or not, often do not come to pass.

Yes, I am an executive producer. That often simply means that when you come to make your set visits, a director’s chair with your name on the back is waiting. On the Cinemax Quarry set (where I was suffering, unknowingly, congestive heart failure) they didn’t let me near the director and other mucky-mucks till they needed me for photos. And I was, again, an executive producer.

I often have mentioned that I did not tell my parents about the Road to Perdition movie sale till Barb and I were on set watching Tom Hanks and Paul Newman shooting scenes under the direction of Sam Mendes.

The news this week that impacted me more, personally, was the loss of Paul Reubens, who had been privately battling cancer for half a dozen years.

I have frequently commented here about the annual Christmas cards that Barb and I have received from Paul Reubens over many decades. To me it has not officially been Christmas until the Pee Wee card arrives from Paul.

Here’s what I wrote in December 2013:

For me, Christmas begins when I receive my yearly Christmas card from Paul Reubens. Sometimes Paul writes a personal note. The cards are always charming and even hilarious, and we have easily two dozen of them. This year Barb made a wreath out of some our favorites.

I went crazy over Pee-Wee with his HBO Special,

The Pee-Wee Herman Show in 1981. I was doing the Dick Tracy strip at the time, and I put Pee-Wee in the strip – he was on television saying, “My name’s Pee-Wee – what’s yours?” And a TV-obsessed villain of mine replied, “Splitscreen!”

Paul Reubens phoned me shortly after that, delighted by the

Tracy appearance, and we chatted. Shortly after that, taking time out from a San Diego con, Terry Beatty and I visited Paul in LA – he was in a small one-story brick house filled with funky toys and oddball memorabilia. We watched a version of The Pee-Wee Herman Show that the cast had looped with blue improv material. The Pee-Wee Herman suit was on a coat tree. I asked Paul how many of those suits he had, and he said, “Just the one.” Then, noting my surprised reaction, he added, “Sometimes Pee-Wee doesn’t smell so good up close.”

Paul knew that I was a movie buff, and he was working on getting a Pee-Wee film going. Late at night, we would talk on the phone and (at his request) I would send him Betamax copies of offbeat films like Eddie Cantor’s

Roman Scandals and Russ Meyer’s Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill! He called once every month or two for a couple of years, sometimes when he was off shooting a movie. (One was a Meatballs sequel, and I asked him what it was about. He said, “A virgin sees her first dick.” I thought he was kidding till I saw the movie.) Barb and I (and sometimes Terry) would go to live shows of Paul’s, and we’d see him after – we did this in New York and Chicago.

When the Pee-Wee movies and TV show kicked in, Paul changed his phone number and I haven’t heard from him since…except at Christmas. Always a wonderful card, and sometimes a warm personal note. I still love Pee-Wee Herman, and it’s been a nice perk of my minor celebrity that I got to know Paul Reubens a little. It’s very thoughtful and generous of him to send me these fantastic cards every year.

Shortly after the above piece appeared, Paul got back in touch with me – someone had forwarded the posting about him – and we began occasionally exchanging e-mails. Knowing Paul, and having a small impact on his work (Faster Pussycat, Kill! Kill! had an obvious influence on a sequence in Pee Wee’s Big Holiday), is one of the most amazing things that has happened to me in an amazing life, despite never having moved from the small Iowa town where I was born.

This is my reflection on the passing of John Paragon, Paul’s partner in comedy – the great, much lamented Jambi.

Paul wrote me thanking me when he saw this tribute to his friend and collaborator.

I don’t know what else to say about Paul and Pee Wee. We weren’t close friends exactly, but we were real friends and the sadness I feel is hard to communicate. But he contributed a character, a concept, and point of view that I truly think will last until (as Paul Williams wrote) “the sun is just a bright spot in the nighttime.”

* * *

A flurry of M.A.C. e-books sales at Amazon have hit and I will share them with you now.

First, True Crime will be $1.99 on August 8 only, the day this update/blog appears.

From now till August 31, Girl Can’t Help It will be on sale for $2.49. If you haven’t read this one yet, please pick it up – this is one of only two titles (the other being Girl Most Likely) that have not “earned out” at Amazon and have apparently impacted their decision not to publish anything else new by me.

From now till August 31, Million Dollar Wound (Nate Heller), What Doesn’t Kill Her (Matt Clemens and me doing our American riff on Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), and Midnight Haul (my Mallory-ish eco-thriller) will all be available at $1.99 at Amazon on e-book.

Also wading in to the e-book wars is Wolfpack, who are doing e-book boxed sets that are an opportunity to pick up a lot of my backlist (some of which is out of print) at a low price.

The Max Allan Collins Collection Volume Three collects all three Jack and Maggie Starr mysteries as well as the Westlake-ish Shoot the Moon for under four bucks (okay, a penny under…).

The Max Allan Collins Collection Volume Four collects Mommy, Mommy’s Day, No One Will Hear You (co-authored by Matt Clemens), and Reincarnal and Other Dark Tales. Get it here.

Reincarnal, by the way, is one of several indie movie projects we were developing (“we” being my pal Phil Dingeldein and I). Chad Bishop are starting pre-productions on Blue Christmas.

Again, these are e-book “box sets” that are at a $3.99 price point. Such a deal! (The Max Allan Collins Collection Volume One is the four Eliot Ness books, and The Max Allan Collins Collection Volume Two is the John Sand collection (the trilogy plus a short story, by Matt Clemens and me).

Now, some of you are not into e-books. You like physical media. Me, too.

Buy the hardcover Eliot Ness and the Mad Butcher by M.A.C. and Brad Schwartz here (from Daedalus Books) at a mere $6.95 (originally $29.99).

Daedalus also has the previous Nathan Heller hardcover novel, which thus far does not have a paperback reprint, Do No Harm, with Nate tackling the Sam Sheppard murder case.

* * *

Early tomorrow morning [Monday, 8/7–Nate], I am going into the hospital for a procedure that, with any luck, will get me back home the same day. So by the time this appears, I should be able to post something about how it went.

This is what’s called an ablation, which is done to deal with a-fib, which has been slowing me down since before my heart surgery in 2016.

[Update: The procedure went smoothly, and Max is back home recovering.–Nate]

* * *

Here’s an interesting Tom Hanks article, suggesting he’s the reason the violence in the film version of Road to Perdition was dialed back some.

* * *

The exciting Skydance announcement about Mike Hammer is all over the Net. Here’s an example from Deadline.

A few more (of many):
https://www.flickeringmyth.com/2023/08/skydance-bringing-mickey-spillanes-mike-hammer-back-to-the-big-screen/
https://www.thewrap.com/skydance-mike-hammer-franchise-ip-rights/
https://www.darkhorizons.com/skydance-planning-a-mike-hammer-film/
https://www.joblo.com/mike-hammer-movie-mickey-spillane/

M.A.C.

Physical Media Therapy

Let’s talk movies a bit, and physical media as well.

Barbenheimer as a phenomenon is interesting but will probably cause a lot of trouble for us as Hollywood decides to contrive future “double features” like this. Apparently Barbenheimer was a meme that went viral (as they say) and grew like Topsy or maybe cancer cells. But overall it continues to get people back into theaters in a summer where movies bringing in hundreds of millions at the worldwide box-office are deemed flops (Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny) or disappointments (Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part One).

Barbenheimer worked for two reasons: first, it was organic; second, the two movies were good. (I saw this without having yet seen Barbie, but it’s apparent the movie is well-liked.) Had either movie stunk up the place, we’d be viewing the Barbenheimer thing a whole different way. Movies can’t be good, apparently, unless they do big box-office.

Barb Collins celebrates Barbenheimer with a Barbie sundae at Lagomarcino’s in the Village of East Davenport

Oppenheimer has received a lot of well-deserved praise, but this you-must-see-it-in-70mm-IMAX thing is either hype got out of hand or movie buffs being snooty (or both). Only nineteen theaters in America (tickets being scalped at $100 up) are showing it in IMAX, but the more standard 2:40:1 aspect ratio presentation is available all over the place. Nolan’s film, well-acted particularly by Cillian Murphy and Robert Downey, Jr., is in many ways a standard bio-pic. It is talky in the best sense, skewing away from the science and concentrating on the politics, and a film that is mostly dialogue in rooms. Yes, the atomic bomb test probably benefits from IMAX; but most of the three hours does not. Not at all.

I continue to believe that Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, despite its genuinely shitty title, will be reevaluated in years to come. Mission Impossible, too, though this great action-fest is hampered by a shallow, trendy use of A.I. as the nebulous bad guy.

So watch for Hollywood to misjudge this phenomenon and try to turn it into a trend. I can see it now – the next James Bond movie and a Christopher Nolan movie about Ike sold as Bondenhower. A Power Pups movie opening with a Tarrantino film becomes Pupantino. Maybe Star Wars and a new Leprechaun movie can be Star Warrick.

Yes, pathetic madness lies ahead.

Where does physical media fit into this? Well, even as they promise us more, streamers deliver less – yanking new films after a few weeks when not enough eyes have been attracted, disappearing short-run series, dropping (in the old sense) episodes from classic TV. Perry Mason seasons have vanished before my very eyes, individual episodes of that great series also.

So people like me – longtime movie fanatics, already addicted to buying Blu-rays and 4K discs (having traveled the road to Perdition by way of Beta prerecords, VHS tapes, laserdiscs, and the forgotten HDTV format that was Blu-ray’s competition) – are tempted to buy even more physical media. An over-reaction? Of course, because all I know how to do is over-react.

But am I? Disney – a corporation seemingly devoted to making a schlemiel like Ron DeSantis look good – has announced they will soon be dropping (in the old sense!) physical media in Australia with plans for world-wide domination, no, I mean capitulation. After all, they are only projected to make around four-hundred million on DVDs and Blu-rays this year, when last year it was close to six million. So Disney has decided to drop (in the old sense) the trap door under their customers who like to buy the stuff.

The positive aspect of this is that boutique distributors/packagers of movies and TV are popping up all around the world. More releases are projected this year than ever before; but they are primarily targeted to hardcore collectors. These are companies like Arrow, Severin, Vinegar Syndrome, Kino Lorber, Shout!, Eureka (UK), Indicator, 88 Films, Imprint (from the beleaguered Australia) and two longtime labels, Warner Archive and of course Criterion. These are not the only ones and more are coming. The one-stop shopping site, Diabolik, has about thirty such labels, including MVD who distribute some of my stuff, produced by VCI (this is where the Spillane documentary/Encore for Murder combo will likely be available on Blu-ray before year’s end). Third Window Films is my son Nate’s distributor of choice for oddball Asian fare, although just about all of the labels Diabolik carries are snapping up Chinese and Japanese film licenses right and left, too.

Good news, right?

For everything but the pocketbook. Arrow, Indicator and Imprint (among others) specialize in rather fabulous boxed sets – Blu-rays and 4Ks plus bells and whistles like books, lobby card reproductions, bonus features (like the commentaries I’ve done for the two Spillane titles at Classic Flix), on-camera interviews…heaven.

And hell when you try to decide what to buy and deal with what you can afford. How pricey is this stuff? How about an Emanuelle box set for four 4K discs for over a hundred bucks? Imprint has wonderful boxes of directors Walter Hill (around $170!) and Sidney J. Furie (I bought the latter to finally get The Lawyer with Barry Newman on Blu-ray – over a hundred bucks), and actor Gene Hackman (around $90). These tend to be runs of 2000 or even less, so they sell out, and on e-bay you might as well bid on a new car.

These boxed sets are designed to make the thirteen year-old collector in you go slightly mad. Strike “slightly.” The only ways around this problem are shrugging and saying you can’t afford it, or starting to rob liquor stores. Is there no help in sight?

Actually, there are some excellent programs on You Tube “channels” (whatever those are) that review and showcase the new and upcoming releases, particularly boxed set stuff and oddities and cultish material.

Among the very best is Robert Meyer Burnett’s Let’s Get Physical Media (with a German buff named Dieter). Here’s the latest episode.

Also first-rate is Cereal at Midnight with the very knowledgeable Heath Holland. Like Burnett, Heath is very much ready for prime time, whereas many of these home video experts on You Tube are barely ready for prime chuck. You can try Heath out here.

I also really enjoy Brandon Chowen and his Cinefessions posts. Brandon’s approach to the hobby is closer to my level. He is a bottom feeder who checks out Dollar Tree and pawnshops, and who does “unboxing” episodes (opening blind-buy boxes, where he’s purchased fifty DVDS and Blu-rays in a surprise package and opens it up and makes discoveries). He is knowledgeable (though he didn’t know who Bobby Darin was when he got a copy of Beyond the Sea in a blind box!) and has a theater background, and his manner is friendly and unpretentious.

Still, keep in mind all of these reviewers – at least the ones like those above, who have substantial followings – are getting a good share of what they’re showcasing free. They get review copies, and you pay hard cash. Thus has it always been. When was the last time my pal Leonard Maltin paid to see a movie, do you suppose?

What’s the answer? For me, it’s controlling my worst impulses. I have to be able to look at that incredible Bruce Lee box from Arrow and remember that I already have the Criterion box, and those movies made in Hong Kong were ragged productions in the first place. How much better do I need to see them? Do I really need to flip through lobby card reproductions like a losing poker hand?

I am at stage in my life where I need to be selling stuff to Half-Price Books (home of getting raped without a cigarette offer after) and not buying anything there. But I am weak. And even in the biggest year for home video EVER, all of these YouTube experts are convinced that Physical Media is dying. The sky really is falling and that’s a Blu-ray you’re about to be clunked by.

The Davenport Barnes & Noble shows some M.A.C. support.* * *

Here is something very strange – a book supposedly written by me (and my name is mentioned several times in the review) has popped up.

But I did not write it. Hell, I have not even read it.

This may be some A.I. stunt or just a mistake, but it does seem like we have to be wary these days on every front.

In a world where overpopulation has reached critical levels, governments are forced to implement drastic measures to control the population. In the midst of this chaos, a gripping novel titled “What Happened to Monday” by Max Allan Collins takes readers on a thrilling journey through a dystopian future.

The story is set in the year 2073, where families are only allowed to have one child due to limited resources. Any additional children are taken away by the Child Allocation Bureau (CAB) and put into cryosleep until the world can sustain them. The protagonist, Karen Settman, gives birth to identical septuplets and decides to keep them hidden from the authorities.

To ensure their survival, Karen names each child after a day of the week and teaches them to impersonate a single person named Karen Settman. Each sibling is allowed to go outside only on their designated day, assuming the identity of Karen. They must follow strict rules to maintain their secret, including sharing information about their daily experiences with each other.

[…]

The novel also raises important questions about the role of government in controlling population growth. While the concept of limiting family size may seem extreme, it serves as a cautionary tale about the potential consequences of unchecked population growth. The story forces readers to consider the ethical implications of such measures and the impact they have on individual freedoms.

Collins’ writing style is fast-paced and engaging, keeping readers on the edge of their seats throughout the book. The narrative is filled with suspenseful twists and turns, making it difficult to put down. The author expertly balances action-packed scenes with moments of introspection, allowing readers to connect with the characters on a deeper level.

The character development in “What Happened to Monday” is exceptional. Each sister is distinct and well-rounded, with their own strengths and weaknesses. The bond between the siblings is palpable, and readers can’t help but root for their survival. The author also explores the complexities of their relationships with each other, adding depth to the story.

The novel’s setting is vividly described, painting a bleak picture of a future world grappling with overpopulation. The author’s attention to detail creates a sense of realism, making it easy for readers to immerse themselves in the story. From the cramped apartment where the sisters live to the bustling streets of the city, every aspect of the world feels authentic.

“What Happened to Monday” is a thought-provoking and thrilling read that will leave readers questioning the limits of government control and the lengths one would go to protect their family. Collins’ masterful storytelling and well-developed characters make this novel a must-read for fans of dystopian fiction. As the sisters fight for their survival and search for the truth, readers will be captivated by their journey and left eagerly awaiting the next twist in the plot.

In conclusion, “What Happened to Monday” is a gripping dystopian novel that explores themes of identity, sacrifice, and the consequences of government control. With its fast-paced narrative, well-developed characters, and thought-provoking storyline, this book is a must-read for fans of the genre. Max Allan Collins has crafted a compelling tale that will keep readers hooked from beginning to end.

[The article is indeed not written by a human being, and mostly plagiarizes summaries of a movie by a similar name (“Whatever Happened to Monday”). I copied this excerpt here rather than linking directly to the site, which generates a deluge of dubiously-accurate computer-generated pages designed to enshittify everyone’s Google results. –Nate]

* * *

Here is an interesting site that gives you the opportunity to vote if you think the book (usually a novelization) is better than the movie. The movie almost always wins. I invite you vote otherwise (when you agree that my book is better than the movie).

This individual seems (wisely) to think my BATMAN run is better than it’s cracked up to be.

Denny O’Neil himself seems to agree.

Finally, this is an interesting piece on Saving Private Ryan, with a reference to my novel of the screenplay.

M.A.C.

Quarry on the Brain

On the occasion of my starting a new Quarry novel, Quarry’s Return, let’s look at Quarry on audio and screen.

Let’s start with this excellent overview, which properly gives Hard Case Crime some praise for bringing the series back to life, and lavishes praise on the film The Last Lullaby (more about that below).

I have been very lucky with the readers of my audio books. Dan John Miller is, hands down, the voice of Nate Heller. For a long run, I had Stacy Keach himself reading the Spillane/Collins novels. When Stacy stepped down, Stefan Rudnicki stepped up and has done a fabulous job – no small job filling those Keach shoes (and trenchcoat). Several readers have done right by Quarry, but Stefan is the definitive Quarry.

Check out this sample and see. And hear.

If you’ve never seen The Last Lullaby, the Quarry movie starring Tom Sizemore, co-written by me (and derived from my novel The Last Quarry), it’s available on Amazon Prime.

It’s also available on YouTube. Looks good there.

Here is the trailer.

While I like the Quarry Cinemax series, I think The Last Lullaby – even though Quarry is called “Price” there in – is the more accurate rendition of the character.

I required the production not to call the lead character Quarry because I didn’t want to give up sequel rights. This is the same reason Parker is called “Walker” in the film Point Blank, based on Richard Stark’s The Hunter.

Unfortunately, the short (and award-winning) film, “A Matter of Principal,” which I wrote for the same director (Jeffrey Goodman) who put together The Last Lullaby, does not seem to be available anywhere but on the somewhat out-of-print Black Box that collects a number of my films.

It’s available at Amazon for (gasp!) $68, but secondary sellers there have it for much less.

Troma Direct has it for a much more reasonable $29.71.

I won’t provide a link, but e-bay has it for $40 and up.

Wherever you get it, The Black Box includes: Real Time: Siege at Lucas Street Market; Mommy; Mommy’s Day; and Shades of Noir, which has several of my shorts, including “A Matter of Principal.” Be forewarned that better versions of the two Mommy movies are coming.

There are a few copies of just the Shades of Noir DVD (never sold separately from the Black Box boxed set) at e-bay in the $25 range. The Troma option seems the best.

Now if only they’d send me some royalties!

* * *

A quick appraisal of Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part One.

Well, it’s a terrific action movie. Beautifully shot, with Tom Cruise going for broke in what is likely to be the conclusion of the series with Part Two. It’s a thrill ride and often surprisingly witty. Not without heart, it shows a human side of the Cruise character and his supporting cast.

On the downside, the A.I. aspect is not explored as anything but another Blue Meanie. A Big Blue Meanie, the Ultimate Blue Meanie; but little is done with it. The biggest deal is probably screwing up the Internet and forcing our agents to (arrghhh!!!) go analog to use the Net.

The horror.

I am also not crazy about the Part One/Part Two thing, because a two-and-a-half hour movie ought to give you some resolution.

Terrific and fun, Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning etc. is not, to me, as satisfying as Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny (reviled by some, particularly those who decided to hate it before seeing it). Here’s the difference: MI is an action movie and a satisfying one, a wild ride. Indiana Jones is an adventure movie. It’s about, among other things, archeology. Which is to say it’s about something, and not just a vague, scary Big Blue Meanie.

That does not mean you should skip MI, because it’s a terrific example of an action movie. Its action scenes outdo the Indiana Jones movie by half; the final scene on a train in MI is one of the best action scenes (and funniest) I’ve ever seen, if not the best). But Indy is adventure and speaks to the inner child in a very different way.

Not a popular view perhaps, but there you have it.

* * *

Here is a positive review of Spillane – King of Pulp Fiction that is nicely illustrated and worth a look.

And here’s yet another “Movies You Didn’t Know Came from Comic Book” articles. Guess what’s included. (And no, I didn’t “base” Road to Perdition on Lone Wolf and Cub – the latter was an influence among a number of other influences. A key influence, like John Woo HK cinema and the real life of John and Connor Looney and Richard Stark’s Parker and various movies about Bonnie and Clyde and more.

M.A.C.

Get Fancy, Stream at Your Own Risk & Plot, Plot, Plot

Out of the blue, two nice reviews of my novella Fancy Anders For the Boys popped up on the Internet.

Here’s one from that pro’s pro, writer Ron Fortier, at his Pulp Fiction Reviews site. Ron has, in part, a very personal response that is quite fascinating.

FANCY ANDERS – FOR THE BOYS
By Max Allan Collins
Illustrated by Fay Dalton
Neo Text
118 pgs

This is Collins’ second book featuring Hollywood debutante turned detective, Fancy Anders, set in the early days of World War II. What with Pearl Harbor fresh in the minds of most Americans, the people in Los Angeles right worry about a possible Japanese invasion and the Army quickly establishes military outpost in the hills overlooking the city. Many of these set up with anti-artillery installations.

With that many boys in uniform soon flooding the streets of Hollywood, the movie community comes together under the leadership of actors John Garfield and Bette Davis to open a canteen exclusively to cater to these servicemen and staffed by cinema stars and young, beautiful ingénues.

When Army Intelligence learns of possible enemy saboteurs targeting the famous Hollywood Canteen, Fancy is recruited, along with several of her girl friends, to pose as canteen hostesses and ferret out the foreign agents. Once again, Collins uses his considerable imagination to drop the reader into the middle of one of Hollywood’s most memorable locales. Through his words, it is so easy to see the beautiful ladies, the eager young men away from home and hear the big band music. It all comes alive against a backdrop of a world turned upside in the throes of war.

“Fancy Anders – For the Boys” is a fun read. Especially for this reviewer, whose father, Pfc. George Fortier served on one of those gun crews and spend his 1942 Thanksgiving, along with two other men, at the home of crooner Bing Crosby and his family. All before he shipped out for the Philippines and three years of hell.

And here is another great review, this one from GoodReads (unfortunately, unsigned):

Fancy Anders plays hostess at the Hollywood Canteen where soldiers and sailors about to ship out mingle with movie stars in this second of three thrilling mysteries by Road to Perdition creator Max Allan Collins, with stunning illustrations by award-winning artist Fay Dalton.

October 1942. With her private detective daddy in the OSS chasing saboteurs, Fancy is stuck playing receptionist/cleaning-gal at the empty Anders Confidential Inquiries office. But then the 24-year-old Barnard grad – expert in shooting, flying and jujitsu – is recruited back into action.

Hollywood, with Bette Davis and John Garfield leading the charge, has put together a night club where servicemen are served by waiters and waitresses with famous faces, from Gable to Dietrich, from Abbott to Costello. With starlets acting as hostesses, gorgeous Fancy fits right in. But this pistol-packing mama knows her real job is solving the murder of Who Killed the Hostess – a Victory Girl who became an LA battle casualty. In the meantime, saboteurs are targeting the Canteen for maximum damage, hoping to wipe out half the stars in Tinsel Town and blast a hole in America’s morale.

Portraying the times vividly with his trademark historical accuracy, Mystery Writers of America grandmaster Max Allan Collins has created a series protagonist both of her time and far ahead of it. Lavishly illustrated by James Bond artist, Fay Dalton.

The three Fancy Anders novellas are designed as essentially a serialized novel, in the hope they will be collected (Fay Dalton’s great illos and all). My structural pattern was Hammett’s great The Glass Key. Fay is working on the third novella’s illustrations right now (Fancy Anders Goes Hollywood).

E-Book:
Trade Paperback:
Digital Audiobook:
MP3 CD:
E-Book:
Trade Paperback:
Digital Audiobook:
Audio MP3 CD:
Audio CD:

Neo Text bought them as e-books but, at my request, have also made them available in book form. This has caused some confusion from readers who can’t figure out why the books are so short, although the books at Amazon are clearly listed as novellas.

Fay’s illos (cover excepted) appear in black-and-white in the physical books and in color in the e-books. My hope is that they will be in color when the three novellas are eventually collected, and in fact I’ll probably insist they do. We have not gone out to publishers about the collected novel version as yet.

This was a Covid lockdown project, largely, and one I truly loved doing, from the research through the writing. Fancy is sort of a young Ms. Tree, though she definitely has her own personality. Within the context of my work, the novellas are reliably tough, though not as extreme in that regard as Mike Hammer, Nate Heller and Quarry.

You can get them at Amazon. Here’s Fancy Anders Goes to War.

And here’s Fancy Anders For the Boys.

As I’ve mentioned here before, Skyboat Media has done phenomenal audiobooks of the Fancy novellas, with full sound effects, music and a fine female narrator in Gabrielle De Cuir.

The Amazon links I provided will also take you to ordering info on the e-books and the audios mentioned above. But of course my preference is physical media.

Fancy Anders Goes to War is $6.99 and Fancy Anders For the Boys is $5.99 in physical book form.

* * *

My ongoing rants about my love of physical media and disdain for e-books and streaming video probably needs some clarification.

Nothing wrong with e-books. If I were younger, particularly if I were commuting by train to work or doing a lot of flying on commercial airlines for business, I would certainly have a Kindle. My son Nate has long read books on Kindle and, when he really likes them, gone on to buy those books in their proper physical media form.

A great deal of my income comes from e-books, as the links I provide here to Amazon sales on a fairly regular basis indicate. I have been very fortunate to have been one of the authors who early on was approached by Amazon, and they have kept me in print (and have sent regular checks) at a time in my career when that comes in very handy indeed. They publish physical media versions, too, but the e-books are the moneymakers.

Frankly, I was one of the handful of living authors approached by Amazon for my backlist – which included not only Nate Heller but Mallory and the “Disaster” series and a few standalones. Ian Fleming was one of the others, for example, all deceased except me. For a while they were publishing new novels of mine – including the very successful Reeder and Rogers political thriller trilogy, co-written by my pal Matt Clemens – though the current editorial staff expresses no interest in publishing new material by me.

No harm, no foul. What they already have continues to generate sales. The most recent titles are the two Krista Larson novels, Girl Most Likely and Girl Can’t Help It, which continue to sell if not at a clip at a steady pace.

But my frustration with the streaming services continues, and the writers and actors who are on strike are actively seeking help in that area, understandably. As a consumer, I am angry – but not even a little surprised – to see them (post-Covid lockdown) eliminating all sorts of stuff that I might have wanted to watch, and this includes things I bought for my library. Things like the 1950 Li’l Abner and the Sidney J. Furie The Lawyer have disappeared after I bought them, supposedly permanently.

If you drop by here regularly, you’ll know I set out to show Barb and myself every Raymond Burr-era Perry Mason episode that was based on an Erle Stanley Gardner novel or story. We have completed that mission, and I think it adds up to 90 episodes or so (remarkable that an American series did so many adaptations of the source material).

But during the relatively short time it took to do that, a whole season (season 7) disappeared from Paramount+, and a number of episodes from the other seasons disappeared without a trace much less a warning. These tended to be Gardner-derived episodes.

Fortunately, I owned the entire nine-season run on DVD and had been watching the Paramount+ episodes only because they were of the higher high-def quality. You haven’t lived till you’ve examined the wrinkles on the faces of Hamilton Burger and Lt. Arthur Tragg in high-definition.

“Incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial!” you say.

Well, I’m fussy. And some who’ve been witnessing these irrational tirades of mine frown and waggle a finger – maybe it’s all well and good for an incredibly wealthy, world-famous author (pause for my hysterical laughter) to spend some of his endless funds on one Blu-ray and actual physical book after another. And it’s true that I wallow in laserdiscs, DVDs, Blu-rays and 4K discs, and that books are stacked everywhere around here waiting in hopeless desperation to be read.

But I never meant to imply that the unreliability of the streaming services and the convenience of e-books meant that I expected you to spend your food money on physical media. Only an obsessive idiot like myself – and I am not alone, I assure you – would buy as many discs and books as I do, despite the dwindling number of years that I face ahead to actually watch or read them.

What I mean to suggest about DVDs, Blu-rays and 4Ks is that if you like a movie or TV series, if it’s one of your favorites or even if it’s just something you might think revisiting is a distinct possibility, buying those movies (and/or TV shows) on physical media is well worth considering.

And as for e-books, my son Nate’s approach makes a world of sense – read it on Kindle (or whatever), and if you really, really like it, invest in a physical copy for your book shelf.

Books by me, for example.

* * *

I intend to start writing a new novel tomorrow (Monday, July 17, as I type this) – Quarry’s Return. It is, not surprisingly, for Hard Case Crime.

I spent all of this past week (including earlier today) on plotting the novel – specifically, writing a 2500-word synopsis. In the past, I have not always plotted in this much depth. My first few novels – Bait Money, No Cure for Death, and The Broker (aka Quarry) – were not plotted at all. I just flew by the seat of my pants.

No Cure for Death – a mystery – found me having to write two chapters to explain what the eff had been going on. I swore to never put myself in that position again, and never did. Crime novels were less a problem, because they don’t always include a strong mystery element. But as the years passed, and boy have they passed, I gradually began to need to plot.

It begin with plotting just a few chapters ahead. By recent years, I’ve come to need a full chapter breakdown. On the other hand, I frequently depart from the synopsis when the characters decide to come up with things of their own to do that I hadn’t anticipated. So I almost always have to re-plot a few times during the writing of a novel.

The more detailed plotting began with True Detective in the early ‘80s – I was dealing with history and a certain amount of plotting had already occurred by way of events. Surprisingly, the historical nature of the material did prevent the need to re-plot as I went along, because the characters would again surprise me and, because I continue to research as I write, new information would present itself and demand attention.

* * *

The ESO network has published another Ron Fortier review, of the Spillane/Collins The Menace, a book you should consider picking up. It’s a horror novel, Spillane-style, plus two bonus stories. From Wolfpack.

Finally, this is a rather wonderful review (in French – you may have to rely on your browser to translate) of the graphic novel, Road to Perdition. One of the smartest, most in-depth reviews of that work I’ve seen.

M.A.C.

Heroes Never Die, But Do They Get Old?

The only thing I don’t particularly like about the film Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is that uninspired secondary title. Oh, and a car chase goes on too long mid-movie.

Otherwise, I was swept up in the Indiana Jones-ness of it all, and have a hard time understanding why so many of the reviews have been tepid or even negative. Several people in the lobby afterward told me how unrealistic they thought it was (unlike, apparently, the incredibly real-to-life previous Indiana Jones movies) and my pal Leonard Maltin condemned it as formulaic (apparently this would have been a good time, in the final installment, to reinvent everything).

Well, I loved it, from the de-aged Harrison Ford in the epic Nazi opening, and the manner in which he kind of gradually eschews his grumpy archeology professor persona – which he’s apparently given in to for decades – and becomes recognizably Indiana Jones again. Right after the strong opening, moving from a Nazi encampment to a roaring train, we are in the present where we learn Jones is divorced from his love-of-his-life wife. Soon Ford strips out of his shirt to show us a decent-for-eighty-years-old physique, but definitely one that has seen all those years and plenty of wear and tear.

As usual, Indy is paired with a young woman, but this time not a love interest – in fact, it’s an apparent daughter (Phoebe Waller-Bridge), who very much holds her own with the old boy. The villain, the reliably odious Mads Mikkelsen, is a worthy one, and complaints about the ending – which pays off the dial of destiny theme and ends with a sweetly satisfying coda – is apparently deemed ineffective by some audience members.

My suspicion is that older viewers are jaded, and younger viewers are not sufficiently aware of the magic of Indiana Jones – for all the complaints about the middle movie of the initial trilogy, those three films were almost as impactful at their pop-cultural moment as Star Wars – and possibly had only the weak Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (an even worse secondary title) to go on.

Look, the filmmakers were smart enough to kill Shia LaBeouf’s character (Mutt!) off between movies. What more do you want?

The soft response to an excellent summer blockbuster (or maybe would-be blockbuster) has to do with the same kind of ageism afoot in a country where that particular “ism” is the only one you can get away with. Ask Joe Biden.

For me, seeing Ford as Jones at his ripe old age (the guy is five years older than me!) is inspiring. No, I don’t believe Ford was doing all of his own stunts, just that I can see how interesting allowing an action hero to age can be. I recall the outrage (justifiable in my estimation) when the producers of a new Lone Ranger movie (in 1981) forbid TV’s Lone Ranger, Clayton Moore, from even wearing his mask at supermarket openings, let alone consider casting him in his iconic role. Hell, he was in his mid-sixties! Does the name Klinton Spilsbury ring a bell? (He’s 73 now.)

What it does for me, as an artist (note I did not spell that “artiste”), is provide food for thought. I would like, if my health cooperates, to write two more Quarry novels (one contracted for already) and two more Nate Heller novels (the subject matter chosen and research under way). The Heller novels require Nate to be the age he would be at the time of the famous historical events I’m planning to thrust him in the middle of. The final book would make him 67 and retired (67, coincidentally, is how old Clayton Moore was when they cast Spilsbury instead).

But I made Quarry around 70 in Quarry’s Blood. I am seriously considering keeping him in his early seventies for these last two books. Nobody complained about his age in Quarry’s Blood, so what the hell? Keeping his age close to mine allows me to write him from a point of view that continues the sort of through-a-glass-darkly autobiography that the Quarry novels represent. It’s, on one level, the story of what might have happened to me if I’d had to go to Vietnam; certainly it’s somewhat the story of what happened to my friend Jon McRae, whose career in the Marines was followed by mercenary work.

I know Mickey Spillane ducked citing Hammer’s age, and it got silly. Mickey insisted (in interviews, not the books) that Hammer was eternally 35. Yet Hammer remains a World War Two veteran in Black Alley, a book set in the year it was published (1996) with Hammer using a cell phone. At the same time, Mickey used health problems (echoing his own) in place of aging Hammer, to be able to present his hero as somewhat damaged goods. I have, in my novels working from Mickey’s unfinished manuscripts, attempted to adjust Hammer’s age (and Velda’s) somewhat closer to reality.

I have always been uncomfortable with series characters who refuse to age. My favorite mystery series, other than Mike Hammer, is Nero Wolfe; but Stout stubbornly refused to age either Archie Goodwin or Wolfe a day. The absurdity becomes abundant when a character from Too Many Cooks (1938) shows up in Right to Die (1964) having aged according to the calendar.

Poirot would have been well over 100, given the age Christie records in The Mysterious Affair at Styles (1920), later reporting him in Beatle-era London in The Third Girl (1966).

Heller has been writing his memoirs and his age, though he’s vain enough to fudge a little, has stayed pretty much even with reality. That’s a set-in-stone aspect of the saga. Quarry has been established to be taking place primarily in two eras (roughly, the ‘70s and ‘80s/’90s). I made him my age when I returned with The Last Quarry for Hard Case Crime, to (I thought) wrap up the series. Quarry’s Blood, for reasons of the age of a certain character who turns up, had by necessity to be set when he was essentially my age.

And I liked it.

So that, for now anyway, is the plan. Of course, as John Lennon said, life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.

* * *

Among the plans I’m making, in my Pollyanna-ish way, is to do at least a couple more indie movies before I shuffle off to Buffalo (or meet the fate of buffalos).

My friend and longtime collaborator Phil Dingeldein and I are attempting to get a horror film mounted with a real budget ($1.5 mil). We will see if we can make that happen, but it’s not for lack of trying. The project is based on a novella of mine, Reincarnal, available in the collection of my horror short fiction of that name published by Wolfpack.

Then there’s Blue Christmas. As I write this, we still don’t know if we got some funding from Greenlight Iowa – they are overdue in informing us (either way). But with my friend Chad Bishop – who edited Mickey Spillane’s Encore for Murder and helped Phil shoot the play and several rehearsals, from which we assembled a video – I will do it one way or another. The budget will be low, the cast largely pro-am. But it’s a way to get it done without the decision-making being controlled by Hollywood.

You can see “A Wreath for Marley,” the basis of Blue Christmas, here.

I am working with Robert Blair at VCI Home Entertainment on getting the expanded Mike Hammer’s Mickey Spillane documentary out on Blu-ray before year’s end. It will include, as a bonus feature, Encore for Murder. We are also considering offering Encore as a DVD, designed primarily for the Golden Age Radio market (Radio Spirits, for example).

I’ll preview the Blu-ray and DVD covers here as soon as they are ready.

* * *

My listing of the Perry Mason TV episodes that appeared here a while back needs some revising, which I will do soon. But Paramount+ double-crossed me. Like so many streaming services, they drop stuff unannounced – and by “drop,” I don’t mean debut something, but literally drop it. A number of Mason episodes have disappeared from the service, including several Gardner adaptations. And the entire seventh season has vanished. The final season (the ninth) was never there, to my knowledge.

To fill in, I had to go to my DVD sets of Mason, which look good but not high-def like Paramount+ broadcasts.

Watching the Gardner adaptations in order, Barb and I find show always good, or at least fun; but it’s the first two seasons that are stellar. It’s interesting to note that by the time we get to 1960, the noir-ish flavor of the ‘40s and ‘50s that so permeates the first two seasons has disappeared…much like numerous episodes on Paramount+.

This all goes to show why physical media is where it’s at. I realize I am a nut about this stuff, and many of you could not care less about Blu-ray when you have a couple of shelves of DVD’s. Or maybe your VCR still works and you indulge in that flawed format VHS, which does have a nostalgia value for some, particularly those who raided the video store shelves on Friday to gather viewing material for the coming weekend.

But if you think “everything” is available, thanks to streaming, think again.

* * *

I mentioned Ellis Parker Butler last week, as the “other” somewhat famous mystery writer from Muscatine, Iowa. I should have noted another one, though this guy only wrote a few mysteries. His name was Samuel Clemens.

He lived in Muscatine for several years before he got famous; his brother ran the newspaper here.

It’s just possible I will never be as famous as Mark Twain.

* * *

THIS JUST IN: I completed this update – rather thought I had completed it – and then Barb and I went off to see the new Wes Anderson film, Asteroid City. I’d been looking forward to it, and both Barb and I really liked certain of Anderson’s other films, specifically Rushmore, Moonrise Kingdom, Isle of Dogs and especially The Grand Budapest Hotel. We were disappointed in Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, The Royal Tanenbaums and The French Dispatch. But this was clearly a gifted filmmaker with a distinct and unique voice.

We walked out of Asteroid City, which is an unbearable exercise in fooling good actors into thinking they are in a movie. And probably for scale. It’s the kind of film where you come out humming the art direction. It is intentionally stilted and very intentionally artificial, making sure the viewer has no suspension of disbelief to hang onto. Beyond arch, the definition of twee, Asteroid City is the worst film I’ve ever seen (or anyway forty minutes of) by a talented director.

Certain movies by directors (or in film series) ruin their other movies for me. This is one of those.

I do not like to write reviews that are critical of movies because it’s tough to make even a really bad movie. Anderson has succeeded in doing the latter.

M.A.C.

Half-Price Books, The Other Muscatine Mystery Man & More

Barb and I, stepping our toes in the waters of life after Covid and heart surgery (me not her), took a brief getaway to Des Moines, where we’ve often gone to relax at a favorite hotel (the Wildwood), indulge in some favorite restaurants (Noah’s Arc, Ohana Steakhouse), and shop at some of our favorite brick-and-mortar stores.

Master Chef Cy Gushiken at our favorite Des Moines restaurant.

Unfortunately, Barb’s favorite of that latter category (Von Maur at Valley West) has moved to upscale Jordan Creek mall. West Des Moines/Clive (they are adjacent) has a very nice Barnes & Noble that is still open and apparently flourishing, despite a second B & N opening a while back at Jordan Creek.

The dog in my hunt, chiefly, is the West Des Moines Half-Price Books. I go to the Cedar Rapids Half-Price frequently, but I always considered the somewhat larger Des Moines outlet an outstanding one. This time I was less enthusiastic.

Now, let’s take a brief side trip into the competing worlds of streaming and physical media. Physical media has taken a bad hit – Best Buy has all but phased out the home video that was for decades their chief loss leader/draw. They dropped CDs several years ago. The younger world (the same one inexplicably drawn to vinyl) has done its best to convince everyone over thirty that physical media has gone the way of the dodo and dinosaur. That we will be able to get every, movie and TV-wise, that we could ever want from the streaming services.

Right.

What we really have in streaming is a combination of charging for everything (even the oldest content) or foisting commercials on us, and gradually…well, not so gradually…dropping the movies and particularly TV shows you were paying to get.

Thank God for physical media.

And thank God for Half-Price Books, right?

Sure, they rape you when you sell stuff to them, and pretend to care about the environment by eliminating plastic bags (and selling you five-buck cloth ones, if you insist upon transporting your purchases to the parking lot without encountering bodily harm). But at least they are the home of physical media.

Right? Right?

My visit to the Des Moines Half-Price Books began by the book/video buyer informing me they were now paying less (!) because so much was so easily available from the streaming services (!). Muttering, I trundled off to the wall of movies and TV shows on DVD, Blu-ray, and 4K to drown my sorrows in cinema.

What greeted me was indeed a wall of video. But it was also an ungodly video mosaic – DVDs were now interspersed with Blu-rays and 4K’s. No separation of titles – like Criterions, or classic cinema, or foreign, or any classification. Everything and anything that could be considered a “feature film” was lumped together – Bambi and Night of the Living Dead sharing only horrific death scenes. A secondary wall of TV series also consisted of interspersed DVDs and Blu-rays.

A few classifications remained, outside of the feature film area. In the Entertainment book section, you could find a row of interspersed opera DVDs and Blu-rays. And in the sports area was a row of wrestling DVDs. No opera-singing wrestler videos appeared to be on offer.

Here’s the thing: Blu-ray/4K collectors generally do not also collect DVDs. Nor do most people still buying DVDs want to be bothered with them uppity Blu-rays and 4K’s. And few of us in either group want to go through hundreds upon hundreds of unsorted (if alphabetized) mixed formats. I do not care to go through the entire inventory of a Half-Price Books looking for the five or six titles I might pick up. Nor do they benefit from people who come in looking for a title, check its alphabetical position, and find it, or not, make a paltry purchase and exit. Impulse buying? We don’t need no stinking impulse buying….

This unsorted morass is courtesy of (a) a generation or two who have contempt for physical media, with (again) the inexplicable hipster obsession with the delights of snap, crackle and pop common to Rice Krispies and vinyl records; and (b) corporate decision makers who don’t know what the fuck they are doing.

Imagine if the books within Half-Price were similarly rearranged – mass market paperbacks intermingled with hardcovers, cats and dogs living together, no separate sections for fiction or nonfiction, no categories like mystery or science fiction or true crime or humor. Madness. Lazy madness at that, with a complete disregard for customers.

I must add that the staff at the buying counter agreed with me whole-heartedly and hated the new corporate policy of shuffling the DVD and Blu-ray decks. In fact, they beamed when I complained, eager to hear (and pass along) the criticism. It was like sending your food back at a restaurant and having the wait staff say, “Damn right! This is shit!”

Some stores – Cedar Rapids included, so far – have ignored this idiotic policy.

* * *

There are three major mystery writers who were born in Muscatine, Iowa. My wife Barb is one of them. I am another. But arguably the most famous is Ellis Parker Butler, who wrote the very funny comic essay (published as a short book) Pigs is Pigs. Read about Butler at Wikipedia.

While Pigs Is Pigs is Butler’s most famous work, the second most famous is his detective character, Philo Gubb. (Butler’s Philo pre-dates Philo Vance, incidentally.) You can read about Gubb at Wikipedia, too, right here.

Philo Gubb, Correspondence School Detective is one of Ellery Queen’s chosen best and most important mystery novels (though the book is a short story collection, really); it’s number 61 on their Queen’s Quorum. Here’s what Queen says about Philo Gubb:

“The year 1918 witnessed the arrival between covers of the first correspondence-school detective, a small-town paperhanger who commits a slight case of murder on the King’s English every time he talks. Philo Gubb performs his rustic ratiocination in a yellow-lemon book, its front-cover illustration showing a tall, gaunt Holmesian figure wearing a cap and dressing gown, a long pipe sticking out of his Sherlockian face, an enormous microscope on the table behind him, a beautiful damsel sitting in the client’s chair, a bookcase jammed with ponderous tomes in the background, and a framed diploma from the Rising Sun Detective Agency’s Correspondence School on the wall.”

It would seem Philo Gubb is more an ancestor of the Barbara Allan detectives, Brandy and Vivian Borne, than Nate Heller or Quarry. Like Barbara Allan (the Barbara and Max Allan Collins writing team), Ellis Butler Parker was noted for his stories being funny, even laugh out-loud funny. Not bad footsteps to walk in.

I was aware of Ellis Parker Butler, but only recently did I start collecting him. At an estate sale here in Muscatine, held at the Art Center where my band Crusin’ was playing (I was on a break), I picked up nine books by him, and have since ordered several more from e-bay and ABE Books.

Have to check out the competition, you know.

* * *

We have yet another Amazon deal for those of you who are e-book readers.

Thomas & Mercer team has announced that Fate of the Union will be promoted via Mystery, Thriller & Suspense Kindle book deals in the US, starting 7/1/2023 and running through 7/31/2023 at 2.99 USD.

Also, the Amazon Encore team has informed me that True Detective will be promoted via a $3 towards this selection of Kindle books in the marketplace, starting 7/1/2023 and running through 7/31/2023. This promotion offers customers the opportunity to purchase books at a discount within a curated selection using a promo code offered to them in an e-mail. Customers who have purchase history within this genre will be presented this offer. Not all customers will be offered the coupon. But if it turns up in your e-mail, have at it.

Ordering info plus sample chapters and examples of Fay Dalton’s magnificent art for Fancy Anders For The Boys is right here. It’s a novella, remember, not a novel. Available in both e-book and physical (yay!) media.

* * *

I should note that I usually post a link to these updates on half a dozen Facebook sites where these missives might seem to have relevance. But last week I wrote almost exclusively about my weekend of playing two gigs with my band Crusin’, and ran a bunch of photos thereof, so I thought perhaps I shouldn’t bother people whose interests are old paperbacks, and noir mysteries and films and so on.

But if you’re reading this but missed last week, and think you might have been interested, just keep reading.

M.A.C.

Rock & Roll Happened…Twice

This past weekend my classic rock band Crusin’ appeared twice in three days. Since we only perform in the summer and limit ourselves to around four bookings, this was unusual to say the least.

But the two venues – Ardon Creek Winery and the Muscatine Art Center (for their annual Ice Cream Social) – are regulars of ours and we weren’t about to turn either of them down.

I had some trepidation because of my ongoing health issues, which in particular make the load-in and load-out difficult for this 75-year-old rock-and-roller. But my bride Barb and son Nathan lent a hand in both instances, and that made all the difference. My bandmates Steve Kundel, Bill and Scott Anson were understanding, too, and both gigs went well. We were up against weather on Sunday afternoon for the Ice Cream Social, but the heavy stuff (as Bill Murray would say) did not come down until we were loading out.

This week for my update I am primarily sharing photos taken at these two performances. The photographers were Barb and Nate. Our grandchildren, Sam and Lucy, were in attendance for both events, and there will be an attack of cuteness included. Diabetics are forewarned.

Crusin’ at Ardon Creek, June 23, 2023
Granddaughter Lucy, a born rocker (Ardon Creek)
M.A.C. cues the boys at Ardon Creek
M.A.C. with grandson Sam after the Ardon Creek gig
Crusin’ on June 26, 2023 at Muscatine Art Center “Ice Cream Social”

Crusin’, at the moment, only has one more gig scheduled, but we are working on what is undoubtedly our last CD, which will be original material recorded live…or anyway that’s the plan. We hope to come out of it with both an audio version and a video (with audio of course) version.

Fittingly, this week I have a link to a nice write-up about my first band, The Daybreakers, focusing on our LP.

Here’s a good if patronizing write-up about my final Batman issue.

AV likes Tom Hanks in Road to Perdition, ranking it among his best performances. Me, too.

Finally, it’s yet another of these “movies you didn’t know were based on comic books” write-ups. But they like Road to Perdition, so what the hell.

M.A.C.

2 Shamus Noms, 1 Birthday, 2 Gigs and Much Grumpy Kvetching

I am pleased to be nominated in two categories in this year’s PWA Shamus Awards – The Big Bundle in Best Hardcover and Quarry’s Blood in Best Paperback. I don’t remember ever being nominated twice in one awards competition before, and am not sure this has ever happened to anybody in the Shamuses prior to this…though I’m not sure.

Here’s the full list of nominees.

I’m also not sure Barb and I’ll be attending the Private Eye Writers of America awards ceremony banquet, much as we’d like to. Some things look likely to be colliding with any trip to San Diego, including a couple of upcoming medical procedures. In addition, we may be gearing up for the Blue Christmas project, possibly in rehearsal or even shooting.

It is very gratifying to have both of my signature series – Heller and Quarry – honored in this way. Quarry began around 1971 at the University of Iowa Writers Workshop, and Heller started as a busted comic strip project in 1976. So both go back to the beginnings of my professional career. (I got the Dick Tracy strip in 1977, in part due to my rejected Heller proposal, which demonstrated I could write comics.) True Detective, the first Heller, winning the Best Novel Shamus in 1984 gave my career a much-needed boost.

Barb and I will make the decision about attending at the last minute. It’s not often I get to lose twice in one awards competition.

* * *

My eternally lovely bride Barbara Collins had a birthday on June 18 (as I write this). She has caught up with me in years, and I will do her the favor of not saying how many years that is. I will say having in my life a woman as smart, funny, giving and beautiful as this is the joy of my existence, the real blessing. Yes, I am a shallow son of a bitch who is pleased to be married to a woman who is still great-looking 55 years after I married her. Feel free to hate me on this score – I definitely do not deserve her or the good fortune that brought us together.

* * *

For those of you in or near eastern Iowa, my band Crusin’ is making two of (so far) only three appearances this summer season.

The first is at Ardon Creek Vineyard and Winery, a lovely outdoor event that is always well attended. We’ll be playing three hours and debuting some new original material for what will likely be our final CD. This is coming up Friday evening, June 23, at six o’clock. Info is here.

Directions are here.

Then on Sunday June 25, we’ll be appearing at the Muscatine Art Center Ice Cream Social, a great family event.

Crusin’ is the featured live music, and will perform from 1:15 to 3:45 p.m. Here’s the full info.

We have been prepping an album (remember those?) to appear on CD (remember those?) that will include eight or nine new songs (including “Christmas Blues” written for Blue Christmas) plus four with the Paul Thomas/Andy Landers/Steve Kundel/M.A.C. version of the band recorded for, and used in, Real Time: Siege at Lucas Street Market. Of the new material, I have written about half the songs, and other half are by guitarist Bill Anson, who is a terrific songwriter (and guitarist). The Real Time songs are either by me or the late, great Paul Thomas.

The current version of the band includes longtime drummer Steve Kundel, Bill’s son Scott on bass, Bill on guitar and lead vocals, and me on keyboards and lead vocals.

* * *

I’ll make a few comments about TV and movies, as some of you seem to get a kick out of my views in that regard.

I loved Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves and, frankly, did not expect to. But it has a nice ability to be both comedic and frightening – action-packed, too – bringing a vibe that has hints of Princess Bride and even Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It also finally finds a good property post-Star Trek for Chris Pine, excellent here. It’s streaming now.

Speaking of Star Trek, you may recall I was very complimentary about the first season of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, but the second season opener (though the Internet seems to love it) was a big disappointment and could bode ill for longtime fans of the original Trek and its able follow-up, The Next Generation. The lead, Captain Pike (so effectively portrayed by Anson Mount), is shuffled off-stage immediately to give the opening episode to the secondary lead (and fan fave), Mr. Spock (Ethan Peck). Spock uncharacteristically hijacks the Enterprise and then weeps a couple of times…huh? The cultural-moment bug seems to have bit the series, as the bridge crew appears damn near entirely female in what is supposedly a prequel to the first series. The bridge is also way higher tech than what the classic series gave us. I realize they want to spiff it up, but this makes the original Enterprise look like a garbage scow.

At least one older person appears to be joining the cast – Carol Kane, her quirky speech patterns explained as “an accent” – and while it’s nice to get somebody over thirty in the cast, it’s a woman in a role that might be filled by a young actor played Scotty. In the meantime, the plot involves a character from the first season who I’d entirely forgotten and dissolves into interminable fisticuff action scenes that surely had Gene Roddenberry spinning in his grave.

There is a real problem with TV and movies that become successful – this has been going on for a long time. They treat their previous movie (or in this case, TV season) as if it’s Holy Writ and we have all been studying it intently ever since. No catch-up is played, nor do the characters treated as beloved have any weight at all. Remember in Christmas Story when the Old Man is entering a contest about the Great Characters of Literature? And the answer to the question is, “Victor,” the Lone Ranger’s nephew’s horse?

This episode of Star Trek was just one Victor after another, and showcased a weeping, impulsive Spock who may make some fans’ little hearts go pitty pat, but I was blowing a raspberry.

Of course, my son Nate says I’m just a grumpy old man these days. (This was when he decided he liked John Wick: Chapter 4, though he grudgingly admits he didn’t love it.) I have also been this grumpy for a long, long time – the Old Man part just emphasizes it.

Nate and I have been watching a lot of Asian stuff lately, from the ‘80s mostly, and I’ll likely be talking about that soon.

I have had a surprising number of positive responses to my Perry Mason discussion and specifically my fannish inclusion of a hard-fought listing of the Raymond Burr episodes that are directly based on Erle Stanley Gardner novels. A few, I should mention, don’t get the “Erle Stanley Gardner’s” front-credits designation, because they are loose adaptions.

And, yes, the HBO Mason has been cancelled. I think that’s a shame, because it was on its way to being a quality series. But its snooty attitude toward both Gardner and a politically incorrect past doomed it, I think. Here’s the problem. This obsession with buying up famous I.P. (Intellectual Property) and making a new version out of it misses the point. Older people, like grumpy old me, want to see something at least vaguely resembling what is supposedly being adapted; and young people don’t give a damn – they don’t know Perry Mason from Mike Hammer. They should all be beaten with a stick, but that’s another story. There is no audience for disrespectful new versions of classic material.

Make up your own shit, guys/gals. That’s how that “I.P.” happened in the first place.

* * *

Bobby Darin’s record label Direction is being revived and will be releasing a lot of the great artist’s stuff, including previously released material. Check it out.

Here’s a nice rewrite of an article about me that was done in part because of my Muscatine Community College “Legends” honor.

For some reason the Cincinnati Enquirer picked this video up (a version of a Des Moines Register piece from a while back). It’s not bad.

Here’s the story of how the Mike Hammer comic strip got cancelled after an early success.

Lots of coverage about the Shamus nominations. Here’s just one, from the great Rap Sheet.

M.A.C.