Now it can be told - here are the true stories of fifteen fearless filmmakers who defied the system...and won! This incredbible book documents the real stories of Hollywood's true giants, the pioneers and crazed visionaries, the cinematic sorcerers without any magnificent men like Sam Katzman, Jim Wynorski, Fred Olen Ray, Jess Franco, and Edward D. Wood, Jr.
There are thousands of sleazy and terrible movies that I could never sit through with images that grab my imagination enough to want to try. I always fail. Thank goodness for this book that studies many such films and some of the filmmakers. It is the best toe into the subject that I have seen. The book fails to be encyclopedic enough to satisfy me. I was left with too many unanswered questions and because the book focuses on certain filmmakers, others are entirely neglected.
It's been twenty five years since it was released, which is evident in not only the production techniques and omissions in the interviewees back catalogues discussed, but also on how the entire industry has changed. Nevertheless, there's some forgotten films to discover here and it illuminates the barely talked about underbelly of American exploitation movies in the 70s and 80s.
Although marketed as a "new" e-book, McCarty has chosen not to update the text past his original cut-off date of the mid 1990s for the new interviews contained within this enjoyable collection. For subjects such as Ed Wood, essays and discussions replace the interview format. At the very least, updated filmographies to address later or rediscovered films, along with a short "where are they now" bio for the directors and producers would have been appreciated. Sad to think upon some of the legends interviewed within that are no longer with us today (most recently, fans of exploitation films are still mourning the passing of famed Astro Zombie and Corpse Grinder himself, Mr. Ted V. Mikels).
A list of the filmmakers is as follows:
Sam Katzman. -- Edward D. Wood, Jr. -- Herschell Gordon Lewis. -- David F. Friedman. -- Andy Milligan. -- Ted. V. Mikels. -- Al Adamson. -- Jess Franco. -- John Waters. -- William Lustig. -- Fred Olen Ray. -- Jim Wynorski. -- David DeCoteau. -- Bret McCormick. -- and Brett Piper --
An exploitation picture, according to a recurring but loose definition in "The Sleaze Merchants," is a movie whose main selling points are its sensational elements, rather than its plot, actors, or production values. The movie's dinosaurs, big-bosomed ladies, or car crashes (or maybe all three) are what the film is promising, and, to a greater or lesser extent, delivering. Without frills or pretensions, such movies have a charm that the big budget Hollywood fare can't achieve.
"The Sleaze Merchants" not only gleefully celebrates such films (with lots of lurid stills, and blood-dripping poster art), it talks to the creators behind the movies. In doing so, it reveals the struggles and resourcefulness of these shoestring mavericks whose dogged determination (sometimes) makes up for a lack of time and money.
Some of the chapters deal with the works of long-dead filmmakers, and, because no one ever thought these men or their movies would have such staying power, production details are scant, and sometimes entire workprints are lost. Other chapters go straight to the source, including exclusive interviews with elder statesmen of gore, sex, and sensationalism, as well as rap sessions with young Turks who pay tribute to the masters while also blazing their own trails.
The section on Edward D. Wood Jr. was the most conventional, and basically a retread of things said and documented elsewhere. The section on Ted V. Mikels is one that sticks out, as he, unlike the other interviewees, refuses to even concede that his pictures are anything but art on their own terms. Herschel Gordon Lewis is a gracious raconteur with a very good memory for all those pictures he made all those many years ago, and the young upstarts have the most insight on the corrosive effects of Hollywood, the pipeline from porn to exploitation, and aspects of the ever-changing biz, involving distributors, video, and unconventional sources for financing.
Ultimately "The Sleaze Merchants" is more charming than sleazy, evoking all sorts of nostalgia-laden memories for the b-movie fan, and even providing a dose of inspiration for those who are thinking of getting into the industry themselves. Or, as one of the filmmakers put it: Bob Dylan couldn't carry a tune, but he still had something to say, and so said it, and in so doing gave inspiration to others who technically might not have had the best voices, either. Highest recommendation, for film buffs and boob and dinosaur enthusiasts.