At this point, I don’t think there is much cause to recount the ninja craze that swept the world in the 1980s (you can piece together the story from our reviews of The Octagon and Enter the Ninja). From Hong Kong to Japan, Bollywood to the United States and of course Turkey, these black-clad shadow warriors fanned out and did that really rapid baby-step ninja run into our hearts. Although the ninja originated in Japan, and Hong Kong produced more ninja films, for my money the United States was still ground zero for eighties ninjamania (many Hong Kong ninja movies were made purely to export to the United States, as often as possible, with as many different titles for the same movie as distributors could dream up). But while the US was inarguably the capital of ninja fanaticism in the western hemisphere, we were not entirely alone. In the snowy northern land known as Sweden, a man named Mats-Helge Olsson was building a sizable filmography of hyper-violent, mostly terrible action films that shocked and disappointed his countrymen. That Mats Helge would make a ninja film was inevitable. That he made two is unfortunate.
In 1964, James Bond creator and sole author of the James Bond books, Ian Fleming, passed away. While the future of the movies, which had taken on a life of their own, was not in doubt (at least not for a couple more years, which was when Sean Connery left the series), the novels seemed like they might go to the grave with Fleming. After scrambling around for a way to continue the series, the Fleming estate and its publishing wing, Glidrose, chose acclaimed British novelist and well-known asshole Kingsley Amis to continue the series. Amis, who had previously written some Bond non-fiction and seemed to take the job solely so he could indulge his hatred of the character M, wrote the first post-Fleming Bond novel, 1968’s Colonel Sun. It was received about as well as one could expect (actually, about as well as any of Fleming’s novels before the rose-tinting set in after his death), with common criticisms being that it wasn’t Fleming enough, or that it was too Amis, or it was Amis writing down. So on and so forth. Whatever the case, plans were for Amis to continue, though when one hears some of the ridiculous ideas he had, including killing Bond off with an exploding martini, one thinks that it was perhaps for the best that these plans fell through. Similarly, plans to hire a series of authors who would all write Bond novels under the same pen name — Robert Markham — never came to fruition.
One more Frolic Afield for the week, again at Alcohol Professor. Amid true crime tours, walking up lots of hills, and visiting Bruce Lee’s grave, I surprisingly ended up finding some time to drink. Seattle had a lot to offer, and Seattle Spirits is a look at my imbiber’s highlights. Continue reading Alcohol Professor: Spirited Seattle
Portland is known primarily for craft beer and urban goatsteading, but Portland’s Distillery Row is a loose confederation of distilleries making all sorts of wonderful stuff, from whiskey to vodka and even baiju. Continue reading Alcohol Professor: Portland’s Distillery Row
Time for another frolic afield, once again at The Alcohol Professor. This time, Teleport City found itself going for a parley on Die Danger Die Die Kill‘s home turf for A Drink in San Francisco. Continue reading Alcohol Professor: A Drink in San Francisco
Gerry and Sylvia Anderson were best known for “supermarionation” shows like Thunderbirds and Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons when they decided they wanted to move into live-action scifi programming. So was born U.F.O., and from that, Space: 1999. As a … Continue reading In the SHADO of the Moon
A new Frolic Afield! I’m back on Cultural Gutter writing about the rarity of Jewish horror films. Hebrew Horrors looks at two horror films that are set within the realm of Jewish folklore: 1920’s well-regarded and somewhat controversial Der Golem, and the little-known Yiddish-language horror film The Dybbuk. Continue reading Cultural Gutter: Hebrew Horrors