BILL LANDIS, RIP
The man that inspired every depraved little thought ever expressed on the blog has died.
Bill Landis wrote the book Sleazoid Express about the sleaze and terror of the "Deuce" in New York City before redevelopment and Disney covered the whole thing in bleach like a dead sex crimes victim.
I've often written about Sleazoid Express because there was really no other book like it. Other books might talk about the Ilsa movies, but SE went the extra mile and talked about how it was like to be in the theater when one of those things unspooled on the silver screen. To read his words was to sit in one of those dodgy seats, fifty years old and reeking of whatever condition it previous occupant died of. It was to try and glare toughness at the crack fiends ready to cut you for the $2 in your wallet just because you looked funny and they knew you wouldn't say shit about it- 'cause no one's crazy enough to admit they'd actually paid money to see Olga snap the whip across some broad's back.
Oh, hell. Go read for yourself. And buy the damn book already. It'll help the economy and his widow, Michelle Clifford needs more reason to continue her fine career.
Fear of Darkness.
Filmmaker, the magazine of independent film.