James Dorr's Blog, page 164

RIP Sir Christopher Lee, 1922 – 2015

Born May 27 1922, Christopher Lee came into the world the year of Dracula’s first screen appearance (albeit renamed Count Orlok) in F.W. Murnau’s NOSFERATU, EINE SYMPHONIE DES GRAUENS.  The tribute below is from Facebook courtesy of Ken Trayling, via Dacre Stoker.

Timely Warning or Just Dirty Water? A Brief Review of The Bay

As a spinoff from June 2nd’s post on “The 25 Creepiest Movies Posters Ever,” I’ve ordered a couple of the films so advertised, one of which — by odd coincidence — I watched last night.  This was THE BAY, a “found footage” (or, as explained, actually gathered and assembled by a Wikileaks-type organization) presentation of what “really” happened on the Fourth of July 2009 in Claridge, Maryland, as narrated three years later by an at-the-time intern reporter who had been assigned to cover the festival.  The “Bay” in question is Chesapeake Bay and, as might be expected in a horror movie, what happened is not good.  Some have favorably compared this film to CLOVERFIELD, about a bad (read extraterrestrial monster invasion) night in New York city, pointing out this one is more realistic in terms of believability that the things depicted might have actually been filmed as shown.  Also, from a biologist-reviewer, the science is apparently good as well.

Would one believe “sea lice?”  These actually exist, and can cause harm to fish, though they’re rather small.  But there are other things too in the brackish waters of the bay, most notably a boatload of pollution.  Thus the film starts with news footage of various fish kills as well as one involving birds, before moving to the matter at hand with our reporter, Donna Thompson, beginning an audio tape which will become the narrative of the film.

There have, it turns out, been warnings here too, but the powers that be tended to dismiss them.  There is, after all, the economy to be considered as well.  So given the setup, it doesn’t come as too great a surprise to find that, maybe, next time. . . .  Except, it turns out, what “really happened” has thus far been suppressed.  So, it is this film that is intended to be our warning.

And that’s where the power of the film lies.  We know that Donna survives, for instance (there is a mention toward the end about some people seemingly being immune), which mutes some of the tension in films like CLOVERFIELD or [REC].  But the creepiest part comes afterward, I think, when one reflects that it’s not just a film of a fairly small town falling victim to a quickly contained plague, but rather about it being completely covered up afterward, even though seven hundred some deaths were involved.  And it seemed so easy — that’s the creep factor.  That maybe, possibly, something like that could have really happened.

Which brings us to the “odd coincidence” I noted in the first sentence at the start of this post.  Quite by accident I ran across the fact that today, June 8, is World Oceans Day, intended to warn us that, vast as the oceans are, pollution has advanced to become a dangerous thing indeed.

So, an innocent evening of movie horror or, maybe, next time. . . ?

Just Because It’s Cool — Vampires and Religious Ladies

Just because it’s cool, on a pleasant Sunday evening.  The image is courtesy of New Romantic-Gothic Movement (which on May 27 featured a link to the trailer for A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT, cf. January 19, 11, for which check here; or on May 13 a discussion of the reception of DRACULA by its 19th century critics here) via The Macabre and the Beautifully Grotesque, both on Facebook and, for leisure activity, worth a browse through from time to time.

The 25 Creepiest Movie Posters Ever

This needs little introduction, discovered on the internet via SHORTLIST.COM.  Any favorites?

(No guarantees, though, that the movies will be all that good.)

Last Sunday Poetry, or, Ekphrasis Once More?

Well sort of, yes.  Ekphrasis II (see not so far below, May 28 et al.) a week ago Saturday having been missed by some due to competing events, I took advantage of the final before-summer-break edition of Last Sunday Poetry’s open mike session to read a truncated version of my previous presentation at The Venue.  Hosted by the Bloomington Writers Guild, this month’s outing featured two Indiana University poets:  MFA Poetry candidate Daniel Minty, using dark themes in several poems including “Skunk Cabbage,” an invented folk monster, and a historical look at ice-cutting and danger on Boston’s Charles River; and faculty member Cecil Sayre exploring, among other topics, the purpose of poetry itself.  Then when my turn came I read two of the three “warm-up” poems from The Venue, “Night Child” with its performing arts references to music and dance and “Émile’s Ghosts” with its ambience of times past and possible regret, followed by “Animal Eyes,” my paean to Paris’s Grand Guignol (cf. May 26).

As noted, this was the last “Last Sunday” reading until August when the Writers Guild will return from summer hiatus to a full program of events for fall.

Dystopian Hydra Gives “Thumbs Up” to Invisible People

“What is your take on a dystopian world?  Is it a police state?  Do people live in fear of an outside force?  Or is it an inner source they are scared or?”  Such was the call last autumn by Hydra Publications and, today, Editor Frank Hall answered with an acceptance of a reprint story from me, “Invisible People,” for the upcoming anthology DYSTOPIAN HYDRA.

“Invisible People” was first published in the Winter 1992-93 edition of DARK INFINITY, and has also been noted in these pages as appearing in WE WALK INVISIBLE (Chupa Cabra House, 2013; cf. February 9 2014, et al.).  It is the tale of a man who . . . well . . . becomes invisible.  So, you know, like panhandlers and homeless people, etc., become so ignored they end up kind of invisible too, but in a society that really encourages it — that is, even more than we do now.  And so, what happens when an ordinarily law-abiding worker-bee type suddenly loses his job?

One will just have to see for oneself, with more information reported here when it becomes known.  For now let suffice from this afternoon’s announcement, “[i]n no particular order the final titles in the anthology and their authors:

 

“Friendling – Gregory Norris

When the Wind Blows – Pam Farley

Fit to Rule – Stephanie Neilan

Republic of Masks – Josh Brown

The Unnaturals – Michael J. Epstien

The Unbinding – Maureen Neal

Data  Crabs – Deborah Walker

Fudgesickles – Brick Marlin

Surrender – Bob Brown

Twenty-one Seconds – Ian Neack

Greater Good – Jeff Provine

Scarecrow Scarecrow on the hill – Tracy Fahey

Invisible People – James S Dorr

Jotnar – D. R. Acula

The First Price – Benjamin Sperduto

An Unfettered Life – C Bryan Brown

Running with the Devil – Peter Welmerink

Cohort 17 – Val Muller

Finding Chindera – Dave Creek

Public Hating – Nigel Sellers”

Ekphrasis II Presentation Reviewed

Saturday’s Poetry/Art presentation at the Venue (cf. May 26, 23) has been reviewed, and may be seen by those who desire by pressing here.  It’s an “art-centric” review though, if one will, the concentration being on the four paintings and one drawing commented on by the poets, and much, much less on the poetry.  Indeed the poets aren’t even named, with one exception, that being . . . moi.  And even that a bit indirectly as the reviewer gives a personal reaction to the artwork, the drawing of masks, along with the artist’s explanation, then glosses my poem rather swiftly and vaguely, but adds a photo of “Animal Eyes” along with the drawing “Hangers On” (copies of the poems had been made for the exhibition, posted below or next to the paintings they illustrated) and, thus, bylines me as that artifact’s “artist.”  But one added irony, nowhere on the blog that features the review does the reviewer give his/her name either, so one must conclude that with the sole (and perhaps accidental) exception of me, those of us working with the written word are but part of the background.

The Airship Arrives! (Airships & Automatons Touches Down Late Tuesday P.M.)

It’s been a long time coming all around, but late Tuesday afternoon White Cat Publications’s  steampunk anthology AIRSHIPS & AUTOMATONS (see April 7, March 31, et al.) landed on my front porch, via FedEx, completing a voyage lasting nearly two and three-quarter years.  As was reported here at the start of this year (cf. January 3), after a September 4 2012 acceptance of a story by me and adding that mine would be last in the contents of stories to be set in chronological order, “. . .  then it disappeared.  As an airship drifting behind a cloud, the anthology . . . was gone!

“And so it goes.

“Two long years passed, even rumors fading away like wisps of mist before an autumn dawn. . . .

“But then — actually on December 30 but due to a hiatus at this end not opened until January 2 — came an email from Editor [Charles P.] Zaglanis with a contract attached!  With it was a request to copy, sign, and return two copies ‘so I can cut you a check.  Feel free to revise your bio if you wish.  Thank you for your patience and the wonderful story.’”

And then, more waiting, but not so much this time.  The Kindle copy was published first, but a bit of minor last minute editing was required before it went to print.  Then it was at the printers.  Then up on Amazon, where it can be found by pressing here. . . .

And now in my hands!  A delightful volume of “[t]ales from a world that should have been. . .  Fifteen stories spanning the ages from ancient Greece to a far-flung dying future” — from “A Courtly Diversion” by Gary Cuba to my own offering, “Raising the Dead,” one in my series of tales set in the “Tombs,“ a vast necropolis and its environs in the latter days of a ghoul-ridden, dying Earth.

From just a brief dipping in thus far, it has been worth the wait.

Black Chaos II Received; Ekphrastic Poetry Take Two, Take Two — a Lagniappe

For he being dead,

with him is beauty slain,

And, beauty dead,

black chaos comes again.

And so came the anthology BLACK CHAOS II, from the back cover of which comes the quotation above, to my mailbox.  Edited by Bill Oliver, this is Big Pulp Publications’s second zombie anthology — with a darkly humorous twist.  To let them explain it:  “Black Chaos comes again in 25 MORE frightful — and frightfully funny — tales of the zombie, from the wilds of 19th century Canada to the farthest edge of the galaxy, and from college dorms to Wal-Mart.  You may think you know zombies, but not these!”

My zom in this zoo is called “Cold, Lifeless Fingers,” originally published in GC MAGAZINE for Halloween, October 1999 (cf. April 21, 10, et al.), of a zombie hailing from Port-au-Prince, but finding itself in a gated community in the US and, possibly, taking a yard sign it sees more literally than had been intended.  For more information, one may press here.

Then, on Facebook, we have a wrap-up of last Saturday’s THE ART OF POETRY / THE POETRY OF ART II, a presentation of poetry inspired by paintings at the local gallery, the Venue (see May 23; also for the previous week May 17).  My poem is titled “Animal Eyes” and is based on a piece by Ray Perigo depicting two theatrical masks called “Hangers On,” picking up on the theatrical theme in a nostalgic tip of the hat to Paris’s le Grand Guignol (1897-1962).  The poem itself appears below while “Hangers On” may be seen by pressing here (look for the picture of the two masks in the second row, far left).  Or for a more general look at the event, check the Venue’s wall by pressing here.

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ANIMAL EYES

Animal eyes were best for gougings,

they bounced on the stage

while an actress screamed,

distracting the audience

who thought them hers.   

This was one of the tricks

of the Grand Guignol.

A disfigured Henri pouring acid

on his ex-lover, Jeanne’s, face —

it’s water, of course —

in Le Baiser dans la Nuit,

her hands secreting coagulated paint,

red, as she claps them over her pain,

leaving streaks of burned gore.  

Mutilations, slashings,

a lighthouse-set orgy,

a woman thrown down to the rocks below  

to avenge a wrecked ship,

another set fire before voyeurs’ eyes,   

this all on a 20 x 20 foot dais,

practically in the laps of the playgoers

packed into a less than 300-seat room.  

But it did not survive, the theatre of blood

given way to worse horrors,

the horrors of real life;

the players in masks now of human flesh,

no longer distorted

as those of the stage,

but, beneath, what thoughts hoarding?

Godzilla vs. King Kong Revisited (Oops)

Oops.  It took a while for me to notice, but it seems there was an error in my May 11 post, “A Continuing View of World Horror Convention 2015.”  In it I stated, of the Thursday night poetry reading, that my opening was with “what I introduced as a sports poem, ‘Godzilla vs. King Kong’ (‘It came to this, finally,/ the fight of all fights/ Godzilla against the King. . .’).  And who was the winner?  Well, fortunately there’ll be a chance to find out as the poem has been accepted by British ezine GRIEVOUS ANGEL (cf. March 30 — GRIEVOUS ANGEL was also publisher, last year, of my Rhysling-nominated ‘Beware of the Dog,’ see September 11 2014).”  However a check of my records reveals that it is not “Godzilla vs. King Kong” that has been accepted by GRIEVOUS ANGEL, but a related poem, “On the Other Hand,” having to do with the King’s tragic love affair with Ann Darrow (a.k.a. Fay Wray).  In fact, “Godzilla vs. King Kong” is currently being looked at by another publication, but it is not known whether or not it will be accepted and, whatever the result, it is likely to be a bit longer before the results of the fight will be known.

That is, at least by those who were not at the reading.  It is correct that “Godzilla vs. King Kong” was the poem I read.