“In SUBURBAN GRINDHOUSE, Nick Cato becomes the Marcel Proust of trash cinema, resurrecting memories of the kinds of late, lamented, Mom and Pop fleapits in which seeing an anti-social movie with your buddies was a gloriously anti-social act.” — Michael Marano, movie columnist Cemetery Dance Film review books may be a dime a dozen, but how many include the actual experience of witnessing the movie in a theater? Zine editor and online columnist Nick Cato shares his time growing up in seedy NY and NJ theaters, and how these screenings helped to shape opinion of the movies. Whether one of his beloved local theaters in Staten Island, NY, or at a double feature at the infamous 42nd Street in Times Square during its heyday, audiences were always lively and outspoken. Part memoir, part film criticism, SUBURBAN GRINDHOUSE looks at the audiences as much as it is a book about exploitation movies themselves.

The pervasive image of New York's 42nd Street as a hub of sensational thrills, vice and excess, is from where “grindhouse cinema,” the focus of this volume, stemmed. It is, arguably, an image that has remained unchanged in the mind's eye of many exploitation film fans and academics alike. Whether in the pages of fanzines or scholarly works, it is often recounted how, should one have walked down this street between the 1960s and the 1980s, one would have undergone a kaleidoscopic encounter with an array of disparate “exploitation” films from all over the world that were being offered cheaply to urbanites by a swathe of vibrant movie theatres. The contributors to Grindhouse: Cultural Exchange on 42nd Street, and Beyond consider “grindhouse cinema” from a variety of cultural and methodological positions. Some seek to deconstruct the etymology of “grindhouse” itself, add flesh to the bones of its cadaverous history, or examine the term's contemporary relevance in the context of both media production and consumerism. Others offer new inroads into hitherto unexamined examples of exploitation film history, presenting snapshots of cultural moments that many of us thought we already knew.

An unusual arcade game controls the fate of mankind; a priest unknowingly calls more into the world than he bargained for; a biker becomes a human switchblade; a man with an odd fetish meets his match; a legendary talk show host and famous general team up in an alternate realm where TV is the mandated religion.Mythical creatures strive for survival as a struggling strip club features a most bizarre act; an infamous punk singer capitalizes on his body horror while a family become slaves to a malevolent household fixture. And why is that woman on the train dressed like it's the 1930s? Hopefully she won't catch that nasty East Nile Virus.In Nick Cato's world, few things are what they seem, and everything is always slightly askew.Welcome to The Satanic Rites of Sasquatch and Other Weird Stories.

Too often dismissed as nothing more than 'trash cinema', exploitation films have become both earnestly appreciated cult objects and home video items that are more accessible than ever. In this wide-ranging new study, David Church explores how the history of drive-in theatres and urban grind houses has descended to the home video formats that keep these lurid movies fondly alive today. Arguing for the importance of cultural memory in contemporary fan practices, Church focuses on both the re-release of archival exploitation films on DVD and the recent cycle of 'retrosploitation' films like Grindhouse, Machete, Viva, The Devil's Rejects, and Black Dynamite. At a time when older ideas of subcultural belonging have become increasingly subject to nostalgia, Grindhouse Nostalgia presents an indispensable study of exploitation cinema's continuing allure, and is a bold contribution to our understanding of fandom, taste politics, film distribution, and home video.

A scene that influenced generations of writers, filmmakers and fans, XEROX FEROX is the first book to cover the horror film fanzine and the culture it spawned. From Famous Monsters of Filmland to Fangoria and everything in between, XEROX FEROX is much more than a book about monster magazines. It examines the home-grown DIY fanzines that dared to dig deeper than the slick and shiny newsstand mags ever would... or indeed even could. The titles are as lurid as the films that they covered. Gore Gazette. Deep Red. Sleazoid Express. Before message boards, before blogs, before the Internet itself, the fanzine reigned as the chief source of news and information for horror fans worldwide. Often printed on the cheap and sold for the price of postage, madcap and irreverent mags like Slimetime, Subhuman and Shock Xpress travelled the globe, creating a thriving network of fans and professionals alike. XEROX FEROX traces the rise of the horror film fanzine, from the Famous Monster-starved kids of the 1960s to the splatter-crazed gorehounds that followed. Featuring in-depth interviews with fifty writers, editors, and industry pros, XEROX FEROX is the final word on an era that changed the world of fandom forever.

African American westerns have a rich cinematic history and visual culture. Mia Mask examines the African American western hero within the larger context of film history by considering how Black westerns evolved and approached wide-ranging goals. Woody Strode’s 1950s transformation from football star to actor was the harbinger of hard-edged western heroes later played by Jim Brown and Fred Williamson. Sidney Poitier’s Buck and the Preacher provided a narrative helmed by a groundbreaking African American director and offered unconventionally rich roles for women. Mask moves from these discussions to consider blaxploitation westerns and an analysis of Jeff Kanew’s hard-to-find 1972 documentary about an all-Black rodeo. The book addresses how these movies set the stage for modern-day westploitation films like Django Unchained. A first-of-its kind survey, Black Rodeo illuminates the figure of the Black cowboy while examining the intersection of African American film history and the western.

Chronicles decades of low-budget films featuring sex and sensation originally screened in low-rent venues known as "grindhouses"