And Furthermore by Judi Dench (2010)
In the preface to this book Judi Dench is quick prepare the reader for what to expect in the following pages, “I do not consider this an autobiography. I have neither the time nor the skill to write one…”, are the first words you’ll read when you pick up this title. And Dench is not wrong, as And Furthermore is much too cursory and incomplete to be considered a proper or definitive biography. Written in casual, conversational and informal prose, And Furthermore reads more like a transcript from one long interview with Judi Dench. And this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Dench is an acting powerhouse who has had a successful and fruitful career, so she is certainly a subject worthy of her own book and even mediocre material about her career and life experience is going to be worth reading in my opinion.
That said, And Furthermore is pretty insubstantial and Dench is disappointingly reticent when it comes to discussing her personal life (“On a film you have to have to sit and answer questions about what you think of the part, why you wanted to play the part, and I think that’s none of the public’s business. Why should you know the ins and outs of everything?”, she writes in the books last chapter). While I can respect Dench’s desire to keep some things private, this unfortunately doesn’t make for the most compelling or juiciest reading. That said, the book is short and the conversational tone makes it easy to burn through in a day or two. Plus I am grateful to this book for giving me an idea of the bigger picture of Dench’s career (going into this book I was primarily familiar with her screen work, so I learned a lot from this book about her work on stage). In sum, And Furthermore will appeal to those looking for a quick light read, though those looking for profound insight into what makes Dench tick should simply move along (or lower their expectations going into this thing).

And Furthermore by Judi Dench (2010)

In the preface to this book Judi Dench is quick prepare the reader for what to expect in the following pages, “I do not consider this an autobiography. I have neither the time nor the skill to write one…”, are the first words you’ll read when you pick up this title. And Dench is not wrong, as And Furthermore is much too cursory and incomplete to be considered a proper or definitive biography. Written in casual, conversational and informal prose, And Furthermore reads more like a transcript from one long interview with Judi Dench. And this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Dench is an acting powerhouse who has had a successful and fruitful career, so she is certainly a subject worthy of her own book and even mediocre material about her career and life experience is going to be worth reading in my opinion.

That said, And Furthermore is pretty insubstantial and Dench is disappointingly reticent when it comes to discussing her personal life (“On a film you have to have to sit and answer questions about what you think of the part, why you wanted to play the part, and I think that’s none of the public’s business. Why should you know the ins and outs of everything?”, she writes in the books last chapter). While I can respect Dench’s desire to keep some things private, this unfortunately doesn’t make for the most compelling or juiciest reading. That said, the book is short and the conversational tone makes it easy to burn through in a day or two. Plus I am grateful to this book for giving me an idea of the bigger picture of Dench’s career (going into this book I was primarily familiar with her screen work, so I learned a lot from this book about her work on stage). In sum, And Furthermore will appeal to those looking for a quick light read, though those looking for profound insight into what makes Dench tick should simply move along (or lower their expectations going into this thing).

Fritz Lang Interviews by Barry Keith Grant (editor) (2003)
Fritz Lang Interviews is an entry in the  University Press of Mississippi’s “Conversations With Filmmakers” series, each installment of which collects various interviews that a film director has given over the course of their career.  This title focuses, of course, on the Austrian-born director Fritz Lang, and republished and collected here are various interviews with the director, the bulk of which were conducted later in his life during the 1960’s and ‘70’s.  During this time Lang was older and thus had the benefit of talking about his career in its totality in hindsight.  And it is the little tidbits of wisdom or insight or trivia that Lang offers up in this volume that really made it worth reading for me.  For example, Lang’s anecdotes about working with actors or his views about youth and the genertion gap were interesting to me, and helped me to understand what made Lang tick as a person outside of his films.  True, there are a number of anecdotes that Lang tends to repeat constantly throughout the book, but its fascinating to see what stories he keeps coming back to and the repetition helps the reader to gain a sense of how Lang conducted himself during interviews.  
Overall I recommend this, though I’d like to add that despite the inclusion of a filmography at the front of the book, it helps to go into this book with a decent working knowledge of Lang’s career, and to have already seen a number of his films (the stories he tells will mean more this way).  One doesn’t have to be an expert on his films going in, but some knowledge of the different periods of his career and an interest in the man behind the films will go a long way should you choose to pick this book up.

Fritz Lang Interviews by Barry Keith Grant (editor) (2003)

Fritz Lang Interviews is an entry in the  University Press of Mississippi’s “Conversations With Filmmakers” series, each installment of which collects various interviews that a film director has given over the course of their career.  This title focuses, of course, on the Austrian-born director Fritz Lang, and republished and collected here are various interviews with the director, the bulk of which were conducted later in his life during the 1960’s and ‘70’s.  During this time Lang was older and thus had the benefit of talking about his career in its totality in hindsight.  And it is the little tidbits of wisdom or insight or trivia that Lang offers up in this volume that really made it worth reading for me.  For example, Lang’s anecdotes about working with actors or his views about youth and the genertion gap were interesting to me, and helped me to understand what made Lang tick as a person outside of his films.  True, there are a number of anecdotes that Lang tends to repeat constantly throughout the book, but its fascinating to see what stories he keeps coming back to and the repetition helps the reader to gain a sense of how Lang conducted himself during interviews.  

Overall I recommend this, though I’d like to add that despite the inclusion of a filmography at the front of the book, it helps to go into this book with a decent working knowledge of Lang’s career, and to have already seen a number of his films (the stories he tells will mean more this way).  One doesn’t have to be an expert on his films going in, but some knowledge of the different periods of his career and an interest in the man behind the films will go a long way should you choose to pick this book up.

  • Question: What is your favorite book about a movie and does it necessarily correlate to your favorite movie? - holidaycelebration-deactivated2
  • Answer:

    I’d don’t really have one all time favorite, but there are a number that stick out to me.  There where three books published by a company called FAB press under the series name “Cinema Classics Collection” that I thought were really fantastic.  Eiji Tsuburaya: Master of Monsters is a great looking book with excellent content about a very niche subject.  And last year there was a book which I bought on a whim, but really enjoyed which was called TokyoScpoe: The Japanese Cult Film Companion.  Though it was a tad dated it ended up putting a lot of great Japanese films on my radar which I would have been unaware of otherwise.

    As for your second question…kind of.  I find that my favorite books tend to correlate less to my favorite movies specifically and more to my favorite genres or film movements more generally.  Then again I tend not to read books about movies/genres that I don’t like.  Perhaps I should change that, as I could see where I could learn something by reading about stuff I don’t care for.  

    Thanks for the question!

Asian Horror by Andy Richards (2010)
Asian Horror is a short, but useful summation of the unique stlyes of horror film that have emerged from East Asian countries over the course of history.  Richards is particularly interested in exploring the development of the horror genre in Japan, and begins the book by detailing how pre-cinematic art froms such as Kabuki theater and classic literature would later influence storytelling in Japanese horror movies.  For my money the strongest part of Richards’ book are his descriptions of classic Japanese horror films from the 1950’s and ‘60’s, such as Tales of Ugetsu, Godzilla (1954), and Jigoku.  This is mostly just personal preference, as I knew less about these classic horror films going into the book so this section of the book provided me with the most new and useful information.  While this title is certainly focused on Japan’s horror output, it still contains respectable chapters on the horror films of Korea, Hong Kong, and Thailand.  For good measure Richards even includes two short chapters at the end of the book about Hollywood remakes of Asian horror films and survival horror video games.  Asian Horror is simply too short and cursory for me to call it an essential and definitive book on Asian horror cinema, yet with that said I think it’s an excellent primer for those who are interested in learning more about the subject.  While seasoned horror veterans and connoisseurs of Japanese cult film won’t find a ton of new information in this title, I can’t think of a better place for a budding horror fan to quickly develop a sense of the contemporary Asian horror landscape.  

Asian Horror by Andy Richards (2010)

Asian Horror is a short, but useful summation of the unique stlyes of horror film that have emerged from East Asian countries over the course of history.  Richards is particularly interested in exploring the development of the horror genre in Japan, and begins the book by detailing how pre-cinematic art froms such as Kabuki theater and classic literature would later influence storytelling in Japanese horror movies.  For my money the strongest part of Richards’ book are his descriptions of classic Japanese horror films from the 1950’s and ‘60’s, such as Tales of Ugetsu, Godzilla (1954), and Jigoku.  This is mostly just personal preference, as I knew less about these classic horror films going into the book so this section of the book provided me with the most new and useful information.  While this title is certainly focused on Japan’s horror output, it still contains respectable chapters on the horror films of Korea, Hong Kong, and Thailand.  For good measure Richards even includes two short chapters at the end of the book about Hollywood remakes of Asian horror films and survival horror video games.  Asian Horror is simply too short and cursory for me to call it an essential and definitive book on Asian horror cinema, yet with that said I think it’s an excellent primer for those who are interested in learning more about the subject.  While seasoned horror veterans and connoisseurs of Japanese cult film won’t find a ton of new information in this title, I can’t think of a better place for a budding horror fan to quickly develop a sense of the contemporary Asian horror landscape.  

Killer Kaiju Monster: Strange Beasts of Japanese Film by Ivan Vartanian (2009)
Killer Kaiju Monsters is a slightly eccentric title and I had a hard time figuring out just what it was trying to be; an experiment in design or an authoritative text about Japanese monster movies?  Vartanian devotes a large chunk of the book to mini-monster bios which discuss various Japanese film monsters (primarily monsters from the Godzilla series, Gamera doesn’t get a lot of love here) and their respective filmographies.  The writing of the monster biographies is passable, but the factual information offered up about the films is lackluster.  Budding Godzilla fans who want to know learn more about the franchise would be better served with William Tsutsui’s Godzilla: On My Mind or even the slightly dated Japan’s Favorite Mon-Star by Steve Ryfle.  It’s not that the writing in Killer Kaiju is awful, it’s just that what it has to say about the Godzilla films has already been said by other sources, and these other sources have already relayed this information is a more resouceful and comprehensive fashion.  Where Killer Kaiju does succed though, is in its design.  The back cover states that the author’s background lies in art, photography, and design and this should become clear as soon as you crack open the book.  The book is jam-packed with both full color and black and white movie stills and posters, as well as numerous photos of vinyl kaiju toys and full-page reproductions of paintings inspired by kaiju films.  Actually, it’s when the book switches gears and starts discussing pop art inspired by Japanese monster films that things get really interesting and I wish they would have stuck with this topic all the way through.  
As it is though, Killer Kaiju Monsters remains a stellar piece of eye-candy and a mediocre read.  While the title is too small to be considered a coffee table book, prospective buyers should treat it as such.  It’s not the type of title you’ll want to read cover to cover, but it’s fun to keep around and flip through when you need a quick shot of visual inspiration.

Killer Kaiju Monster: Strange Beasts of Japanese Film by Ivan Vartanian (2009)

Killer Kaiju Monsters is a slightly eccentric title and I had a hard time figuring out just what it was trying to be; an experiment in design or an authoritative text about Japanese monster movies?  Vartanian devotes a large chunk of the book to mini-monster bios which discuss various Japanese film monsters (primarily monsters from the Godzilla series, Gamera doesn’t get a lot of love here) and their respective filmographies.  The writing of the monster biographies is passable, but the factual information offered up about the films is lackluster.  Budding Godzilla fans who want to know learn more about the franchise would be better served with William Tsutsui’s Godzilla: On My Mind or even the slightly dated Japan’s Favorite Mon-Star by Steve Ryfle.  It’s not that the writing in Killer Kaiju is awful, it’s just that what it has to say about the Godzilla films has already been said by other sources, and these other sources have already relayed this information is a more resouceful and comprehensive fashion.  Where Killer Kaiju does succed though, is in its design.  The back cover states that the author’s background lies in art, photography, and design and this should become clear as soon as you crack open the book.  The book is jam-packed with both full color and black and white movie stills and posters, as well as numerous photos of vinyl kaiju toys and full-page reproductions of paintings inspired by kaiju films.  Actually, it’s when the book switches gears and starts discussing pop art inspired by Japanese monster films that things get really interesting and I wish they would have stuck with this topic all the way through.  

As it is though, Killer Kaiju Monsters remains a stellar piece of eye-candy and a mediocre read.  While the title is too small to be considered a coffee table book, prospective buyers should treat it as such.  It’s not the type of title you’ll want to read cover to cover, but it’s fun to keep around and flip through when you need a quick shot of visual inspiration.

The Big Heat by Colin McArthur (1992)
Colin McArthur’s The Big Heat is an entry in the BFI Film Classics, a series of petite books, each written by a different author, which each tackle an analysis of a classic film and the cultural reception surrounding each title.  McArthur’s entry in the series focuses on Fritz Lang’s 1953 crime classic The Big Heat.  McArthur’s book is split into five chapters.  The first chapter discusses the original William McGivern novel upon which the film is based, the second chapter deals with the production of the film and Columbia’s decision to buy the rights to the McGivern story, and chapter three focuses on the film’s critical reception at the time of it’s release.  The first three chapters make for a pretty fascinating (and very accessible) read.  Then, unfortunately, McArthur goes totally off the rails in the book’s forth chapter and begins a tedious discussion about internal politics of the British Film Institute, which is an aside that the average reader will find rambling and useless.  Luckily McArthur gets his act together for the final chapter in the book, in which he attempts a detailed analysis of the film itself.  
Despite McArthur’s misstep in chapter four, The Big Heat is a solid read for fans of Lang in general or this film in particular.  As a final note, I found the book’s brevity (it’s 78 pages long) to be an asset as it made the book easily digestible in a day, however those looking for a lot of content for their buck may want to look elsewhere.

The Big Heat by Colin McArthur (1992)

Colin McArthur’s The Big Heat is an entry in the BFI Film Classics, a series of petite books, each written by a different author, which each tackle an analysis of a classic film and the cultural reception surrounding each title.  McArthur’s entry in the series focuses on Fritz Lang’s 1953 crime classic The Big Heat.  McArthur’s book is split into five chapters.  The first chapter discusses the original William McGivern novel upon which the film is based, the second chapter deals with the production of the film and Columbia’s decision to buy the rights to the McGivern story, and chapter three focuses on the film’s critical reception at the time of it’s release.  The first three chapters make for a pretty fascinating (and very accessible) read.  Then, unfortunately, McArthur goes totally off the rails in the book’s forth chapter and begins a tedious discussion about internal politics of the British Film Institute, which is an aside that the average reader will find rambling and useless.  Luckily McArthur gets his act together for the final chapter in the book, in which he attempts a detailed analysis of the film itself.  

Despite McArthur’s misstep in chapter four, The Big Heat is a solid read for fans of Lang in general or this film in particular.  As a final note, I found the book’s brevity (it’s 78 pages long) to be an asset as it made the book easily digestible in a day, however those looking for a lot of content for their buck may want to look elsewhere.

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Hi.  I am a human being of a geeky persuasion who enjoys both books and movies, and thus there’s nothing better to me than books about movies.  It’s a combination of two great things, where could you go wrong?

Thus I had the urge to create a blog detailing what books of this type I have read, which ones were worth reading, and which ones were utter crap.  I’m doing this mostly for my own amusement, though you are encouraged to follow my blog and communicate with me if this is a subject that interests you as well.

Oh, and by the way I’d like to make it clear that this is not a blog about novels that were adapted to film.  Instead I want this blog to be about books that detail the production, consumption, and appreciation/condemnation of movies of all types from around the world.

And without further ado…