Zombos’ Closet…a vast trove of endearingly cheap thrills, including movie and book reviews, and scans of his collections of cinema pressbooks, goofy paper-cutout Halloween decorations, and his amazing collection of Mexican lobby cards from B-grade films. If you have time to descend into a serious rabbit-hole of marvelous trash-culture nostalgia, visit that site just as soon as you possibly can.” (DangerousMinds.net)
William Armstrong (add an All American after his name and that sounds like a movie serial!) contacted me, asking about the Tarzan and the Leopard Woman pressbook. He recalled I’d snagged it sometime back in an auction on Emovieposter. I didn’t recall it. Now, that’s a glaring example of the difference between a hoarder and a collector, but nevermind that. Anyway, I recently started cleaning up the mess that is Zombos’ Closet and, lo and behold, I found a stack of great pressbooks lost behind some boxes. And there it was! Along with a ton of other pressbooks I had forgotten I had. Oops. Need to get that hoarder/collector balance in shape, I know. Of course, as I rediscovered them, I thought, what a monkey’s uncle I am (sorry, no refunds on puns or idioms). I clearly have no advantage over Cheetah. So, you can thank William Armstrong (All American!) for reminding me about Tarzan and the Leopard Woman. Here’s the cool pressbook. Add a mental Tarzan jungle cry as you drool over its pages.
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The poster art and unusual size (9 inches x 20 inches folded, 18 inches x 20 inches unfolded) grabbed my attention for this Underground (1941) pressbook. The story concerns two brothers on opposing sides of a really bad situation. Although the storyline concerns Word War II, not so surprisingly, it is still relevant today. What’s old is new again, and what’s new is old again. That lobby floor set piece is pretty cool. These days, while we get standees in the theater lobby, they’re usually so standard and uninspired. Theater movie promotion way back when was so much more exciting to experience.
ComicRack reader version: Download Underground pressbook
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Yes, my dear friend, I’m sure you’ve made the connection that’s been my secret for all these years. My stories don’t come from my own inner fears, but from my mother’s mad ramblings and whispery rants. (Horrifica: Collected Stories, by Sheldon Woodbury, Nightmare Press)
Sheldon Woodbury. Sounds like a rich person in a noir film, doesn’t it? A scriptwriter and former advertising agency suit, he writes a fatalistic and darker side of fantasy life, with thirty-one short stories that, mostly, would fit nicely into a 1950s horror comic. He traps them into three categories: Grotesqueries, Monstrosities, and Depravities. His characters are usually headed one way (downward), with few side trips along the way. There is no bright serendipity or goodwill for anyone found in these pages. Well, then again, the monsters do quite well, though. He keeps the terror very horrible indeed. Not gory, just terrible and very no way out, with endless ways to bury his victims, deep and dark, giving no inch or breath to escape.
Reading each story, you see his tight setups and ghoulish penchant for bad situations that fester into high mortality statistics as they wrap around his victims like butcher paper tucked snuggly around a steak. And then he tickles your eyes with some classically-tinted horror, which stands out for us growing old in the genre; Halloween, Jack Pierce (the maker of Universal’s monsters), eldritch abominations, hellscapes, revenge served hot, apocalyptic worlds, secret clubs and dark cityscapes, all are fair game for his macabre mindset.
From the things coming at the stroke of midnight for an errant preacher, the lonely woman who could just eat you to death, and the mom with a penchant for knives and revenge, Woodbury sticks to narratives with little, if any, dialog, and people who, whether on the receiving or giving end of it, strut and fret their hour on the page and then are heard no more (well, except for the screaming or last gasps).
Each tale has a few or fewer acts, (you could argue some Freytag’s Pyramid tossed in, maybe), that run mostly linear, driven by narratives providing excellent examples of the term short and sweet. He likes to keep it impersonal through third-person description with an occasional first person talking, but, without dialog, he conveys characters’ emotions through their responses and thoughts, with beats (those small amounts of action) shifting them toward his bleak endings. Woodbury is not one for a lot of description, but what he does choose to describe sets the mood perfectly for each story, as well as keeping the pacing brisk but not too fast. He wants you to savor each spilled red drop like a good single malt whiskey that’s sipped and not gulped.
In his Gift From the Stars, a young man writes a letter to Clark Ashton Smith, regarding his mother’s peculiar malady, and in The Last Horror Show, a bittersweet life in horror is drawn until the end, where we are left with the knowledge that “monsters should never be ignored.”
Just the thought of Woodbury mentioning authors like Clark Ashton Smith made this reviewer smile. I can imagine him opening a Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine in the dead of night or watching the black and white monster movies as well as the more colorful ones to hone his bad taste buds. Woodbury’s choice of subjects, and his styling, from story to story, as he switches gears to accommodate a bit of nostalgia in The Monster Maker or revealing why “real monsters are hard to kill” in The Last Halloween, draws inspiration from earlier horror fiction and pulpy terrors to frame his modern monstrosities. You can imagine these stories flickering on 1980s television horror shows.
So, if it’s monstrosities you like, there’s the mystery of Extinction, where what killed the dinosaurs is finally solved. Unfortunately. If you like depravities, perhaps Midnight Town will provide that beckoning side trip you’ve always wanted to take, after the sun goes down; just follow the “flicker in the desert” as you leave the city lights behind. Perhaps you like grotesqueries more. If so, just go Down Where Nightmares Dwell, but mind the basement steps. In Woodbury’s world, mothers can be hell as much as the monsters. And, if you like all three, well, he’s got you covered neck deep in Horrifica. Just take breaks to keep breathing and you’ll be fine. Maybe.
The Horror Zine staff book reviewer, JM Cozzoli
In 1981 I lost a girlfriend and watched Raiders of the Lost Ark on the big screen. Let me explain. I had just broken up with her. She was still in love with a previous guy who did a lot of bar-hopping, playing in a band he never could commit seriously to. She couldn’t commit seriously to another relationship either as she followed him around, from bar to bar, hanging on. I actually wonder what happened to him more than her, but I hope she made out okay. Anyway, I was feeling awful after our split that night and, driving around aimlessly, I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark playing, though I forget which Brooklyn theater I walked into to see it. Place was packed. I barely made it in. After the traps started springing, in the first few minutes, I forgot everything else and joined in the foreign locale derring-do and supernatural mayhem. I felt a lot better that night. I went back a few times more. I bought a few Indiana Jones 12-inch action figures a while later, marked down (with that memorable red sticker) at Toys R Us. I always think of her where Indiana Jones is concerned. I wonder if that guy ever got his act together (pun intended). Funny how such things hook up in your memory and hang on, no matter how long ago it was. Here’s the pressbook.
Comic reader version: Download Raiders of the Lost Ark Pressbook
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Welcome, all lovers of all things weird and wonderful! Welcome to my Radio Spot Reliquary.
I was visiting with Granny Creech the other day when she noticed all the radio spots I had rearranged in my Reliquary and she wondered when I was going to start sharing them here on Zombos’ site. I told her I didn’t want to steal her thunder and, besides, I don’t have the way with words like she does. She chided me and told me that it would be OK. She said she concentrates on spots from the fifties and sixties, with a few later exceptional exceptions, and it would be cool for me to bring out those from the seventies and eighties. She said they were still good and fans would like to hear them. No detailed introductions would be needed just present them. So, I thought about it and decided that it could work. But I would need some help.
I’m no historian and I hate researching things, so I asked our old buddy Zombos if he would be able to help me. I aroused him from his usual stupor and, after much coercion and the promise of two cases of Guinness, he agreed to be my backup, filling in where I needed some help.
So, here is to the first of what promises to be a long series of classic newer radio spots, presented in no particular order, just however the mood strikes me. I’m sure you will enjoy them, as collecting them has been a labor of love for me. They are some of my favorite titles and I want you to hear them. …
According to Brian Patrick Duggan, in his book Horror Dogs: Man’s Best Friend as Movie Monster, the first dog in a motion picture appears in Edison’s Athlete with a Wand in 1894; but that dog just happened to be in the shot, lying at the foot of the athlete doing all the work, so he points us to Rescue Rover (1905), for a more action-oriented Collie. That family canine as rescuer theme leads us to Rin Tin Tin and more stories of dogs leaping into action to save us dumb humans or battle evil humans too, in movies, comics, and books. Of course, the horror genre has morphed the family-oriented dog to terrorize us, chase us, tear us apart, and, in general, make us run like hell or scream like hell. Rin Tin Tin was not a scary dog. Going to 1904, in Edison’s Dog Factory, the first hint of making dogs scarier, if only in a comedic way, can be found. Duggan goes on to note how the movie poster advertising began to show the dog as dangerous (in a wholesome way). By the time we get to 1978 and Devil Dog: The Hound of Hell, the movie poster art focused on those sharp canine teeth a lot more, which was definitely not wholesome.
Rin Tin Tin’s predecessor, Strongheart, starred in six films from 1921 through 1927, but just two of those posters show the dog only launching himself at bad guys. From 1922 through 1931, the more famous Rin Tin Tin averaged even fewer examples, with only three posters out of twenty-six showing him poised just prior to grappling with the film’s villain. The implied canine violence in advertising and what was shown on screen was justifiable, because Strongheart or Rin Tin Tin were protecting their people or meting out canine justice. (Duggan, Brian Patrick. Horror Dogs: Man’s Best Friend as Movie Monster (Dogs in Our World) (p. 103). McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers. Kindle Edition.)
End Note: Warner Brothers originally had the popular Rin Tin Tin, but dropped the poor dog because of sound issues and their focus on talkies with humans. That’s when Mascot picked up the franchise with their first all-sound serial Rin-Tin-Tin The Lone Defender. Clearly they didn’t worry about his barking.
By the early 1950s, Republic was looking to save money on serial production. They cut the runtime of each chapter, added stock footage from previous serials, and shortened production time.
One major clearance problem involved the trade name of Ace Hi gasoline, required to be diplayed on the back of a tank truck [Ep. 7] to match stock [footage] from Mysterious Doctor Satan. When it was discovered that Ace Hi was a real brand marketed by the Midwest Oil Company of Minneapolis, associate producer Franklin Adreon and production manager Jack Baker approved the usage of Ace Hi with the addition of the nonexistent Holt Oil Company lettered beneath the product name. Loeb and Loeb, Republic’s law firm, opinioned that associating Ace Hi with the fictitious oil company still maintained the risk, but its incidence was lessened. In line with Republic’s policy not to prominently feature trade names, the pumps and signs at a Union Oil station used as a location prior to the truck sequence were masked with large X-lettered paper sheets to conceal the labeled product actually being dispensed on the immediate premises. (Valley of the Cliffhangers, Jack Mathis, 1975)
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Government Agents
vs Phantom Legion (1951) PressbookRead More »
When you talk about exploitation cinema, here’s a good example to include in your discussions. The 1960s and 1970s were exorbitant decades for movies that pushed beyond good taste; which, of course, is the provocative and decadent theme of any enjoyable exploitation movie. The Devil’s Sisters took its cue from the real-crime story of the Gonzalez Valenzuela sisters (Las Poquianchis), who ran their murderous prostitution ring from the 1950s to 1960s. William Grefè (Sting of Death, Death Curse of Tartu, Whiskey Mountain, etc.), directed the movie in Florida over ten days. Rantbit has an engrossing write up worth reading. Grefè also directed Impulse, with William Shatner and Harold Sakata (you know him as Odd Job from Gold Finger). The extensive documentary, They Came From the Swamp, the Films of William Grefè, discusses Impulse and how Sakata almost strangled to death during one scene. Shatner, suddenly realizing turning blue wasn’t one of Sakata’s acting skills, rushed to help him.
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I opened the door From Zombos’ Closet 20 years ago, first on Blogspot in 2005, then a switch over to Typepad in 2006, and over to WordPress in 2023. At the start, I had two simple goals in mind. Keep it commercial free (no pop-up ads, no links to buy stuff–except my book). Hell, remember those Flash intros to websites? And just keep it fun for you and me as I share my appreciation of the fantastique in film, literature, popular culture, and show off my collection of cool stuff while doing so. ZC has grown to include more than just horror because you can’t really appreciate a horror movie or a book without seeing and knowing a lot more beyond it. I like lots of stuff.
Good, rich, horror genre is fed by life, death, and everything in-between. You can’t create or understand movies or books without knowing what’s come before them and what’s happening around them. This includes comedy, drama, poetry, the classics, the clunkers, and all the other genres too. Creators can’t build on what they don’t know. They can’t create ground-breaking horror without knowing the lay of the land they’re standing on. Fans who only watch today’s horror are missing out on a wealth of terror waiting to be discovered, especially in black and white, especially without sound.
To be a true horror movie fan you need to embrace the old with the new. People who say the best movies were done years ago clearly haven’t watched much. This goes for books too. And music. What would movies be without the Hermans, Morricones, Elfmans, Williamses, Zimmers and others? Recently I read someone’s Reddit post where they referred to the “original” Thirteen Ghosts, the movie from 2001. I bit my tongue. The original is William Castle’s classic fun chiller, 13 Ghosts, from 1960. Dude, what the hell? …
20 Years and Onward
(or Yes, I’ve Got a Big Closet)Read More »
Bob Steele was a B movie cowboy star through the late 1920s to 1940s, working at the Republic, Monogram, Producers Releasing Corp, Supreme, and Tiffany studios (TMDB). I have a special liking for Steele because he stood 5 feet and 5 inches, my height, and still seemed to tower over the bad guys. He had a brief but unforgettable role in The Big Sleep, and won acclaim for his portrayal of Curley in Of Mice and Men. While his early cowboy days saw the most dusty trails, he still appeared in various westerns including Rio Bravo, The Comancheros and others. He also did the non-westerns, Atomic Submarine and Giant From the Unknown. In the 1960s, he played Trooper Duffy on F Troop. From the silents to the talkies, he had a long, and memorable for us, career.
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Uncle Oscar called me the other day and invited me over to Witchwood Cemetery to see all the new spring flowers. The cemetery was in full bloom, he said, and presented a lovely sight.
I headed on over there and he was right. Bright colors were everywhere and presented a glorious picture. It was quite the contrast from the usual dreary and bland landscape the late fall and winter seasons presented. It was quite cheerful.
We walked around, enjoying the beauty and saying hello to old friends who were actively engaged in some much-needed spring cleaning. We made our way to the back part of the cemetery and came across The Radio Reaper’s large crypt. The Reaper greeted us as he swept out a large pile of trash.
“Greetings, Granny and Uncle Oscar,” he said. “How are you two? Beautiful day for cleaning out the cobwebs.”
“Yes it is,” I said. “What have you been up to?”
“Oh, just cleaning, rearranging, and sprucing up. In fact, I’m glad you came by. I found something you might be interested in,” he said.
He went into his crypt and soon reappeared, a large record in hand. …
Binge watching the streams and eye-balling the books falling off the shelf. What a life.
Finally caught up to the Punisher on Disney Plus. I’d say the title should be more like the Punishment. He does get beat up. A lot. Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle presents the perfect picture of a human punching bag that punches back. Castle returns in a one-off special for Disney Plus, to be co-written with Bernthal, to air in 2026. The two seasons, so far, are intense, with Castle hunting down the people involved in his family’s murder. A twist pops up in season two when one of those people survives a horrific beating with some screws shaken loose and little past memory of how evil he was. He struggles between guilt and embracing that evil as it returns in flashes of violence. Castle just struggles with everything, but especially some internally driven guilt, leaving him open to bleeding. A lot. The Punisher ties neatly into the Jessica Jones and Daredevil universe, so essential viewing if you like that dark underbelly of crime noir dripping off of wet urban sidewalks feeling. …