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‘A Cut Below’ Book Review – A Joyful Celebration of the Weirdest B-Movies from the 1950s-1980s

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I was a kid just as the drive-in craze was coming to a close. I can recall packing into our giant boat of a Chrysler station wagon and trekking out to see some first-run movies with my family back in the early 80s. I vividly remember seeing The Muppets Take Manhattan, Superman III (which terrified young me to no end), and Return of the Jedi on the massive screens of the Starlight Drive-In that stood for decades after the projectors were shut down and the lot converted into a gigantic swap-meet. Unfortunately, I was far too young to take in the legendary exploitation fare of the period. Sometimes I wish I had been born fifteen or twenty years earlier so I could have experienced the heyday of AIP, New World, and their ilk firsthand, but living through the dawn of the home video boom wasn’t a bad trade off. The new book A Cut Below: A Celebration of B Horror Movies, 1950s-1980s by Scott Drebit is a look back at the height of the drive-in era to the dawn of home video and the kinds of horror that slipped into the cracks that are sometimes dubbed “schlock,” but the movies presented here are so much more than that.

For years, Scott Drebit wrote a weekly column over at Daily Dead called “Drive-In Dust Offs” and the book is an expansion on that idea. As he notes in the acknowledgements to A Cut Below, a few of those essays have been given an update and shiny new polish for the book, but most entries are brand spanking new. The book is divided into twelve sections that Drebit dubs “festivals,” each focusing on a particular subgenre popular during the time period covered by the book. He then chooses five titles for each festival, each of which would make a hell of a weekend marathon. For example, “Festival Six: Terror in Technotown,” all about technology run amok, covers The Fly (1958), Westworld (1973), Demon Seed (1977), Evilspeak (1981), and Videodrome (1983). Some of the other festivals include “The Animal Killdom” (animal attack movies), “The Blood on Satan’s B-Roll” (satanic horror), “Back Bacon Bloodbath” (Canadian exploitation), and “If You’re Undead and You Know It, Clap Your Hand” (Zombies) just to name a few.

Most of the titles in A Cut Below will be familiar to those who spent all their time at their trusty old mom and pop video store browsing the horror section with or without their parents’ knowledge or permission, but that’s doesn’t mean you’ve necessarily seen them all. A few choice slices from the top tier can be found in its pages—Creepshow, Videodrome, The Incredible Shrinking Man—but as the title implies, most of the book is devoted to the cut below, the deeper cuts every horror fan craves after devouring the big titles. Reading Drebit’s sales pitches have prompted me to finally hit play on more than a few movies that have been sitting in my watchlist and motivating me to add several more to said list. I consider myself a savvy seeker of hidden gems from the era covered here, but I still found a few titles I’d never even heard of, which is always gratifying for a treasure hunter like me. Peppered throughout the official entries are mentions of even deeper cuts that hint at the possibility of what would be a very welcome follow-up of cuts below the Cut Below.

Drebit’s writing style is breezy and conversational, making A Cut Below an absolute joy to read. Most chapters offer some cleverly worded setup of the plot, but make sure to stop before entering spoiler territory. He wisely assumes that many of the movies discussed have not been seen by every reader. He also offers insight into the making of most of the films, but this aspect never overstays its welcome. Occasionally he offers some personal anecdotes about his own experiences with a film, be it at the drive-in, the grindhouse, or the video store but again only to underscore the impact of a specific movie. The key aspect of each entry is that the writing never takes itself too seriously. Yes, it is factually accurate and attentive to detail, but it is also fun, injected with a great deal of wit and humor that compels the reader to keep telling themself to read “just one more.”

Drebit’s affection for these titles is clear but he’s also not above the loving jab that comes from the true fan. In his introduction to 1980’s The Children, for example, he begins with this little elbow in the ribs of not only the movie, but his fellow film writers (admittedly like myself) who seek out subtext in absolutely everything. “The Children deals with the disintegration of the family unit and the decay of modern society. Just kidding! The Children is about radioactive kids who like to give hugs and burn people up real good.” He then discusses how some movies do have subtext and “some horror films are content to just show children having their hands cut off with a samurai sword.”

Personally speaking, I’m generally kind of a slow reader and always have been. The old ADHD and a touch of dyslexia can make it a chore at times. But I absolutely devoured A Cut Below, blazing through it in just a few sittings. Of course, that’s not the only way to read it. It welcomes a leisurely pace as well. Take in a festival at a time if you choose, or skip around from entry to entry, reliving favorites or discovering something new to you. However you decide to take it in, A Cut Below will without a doubt prove rewarding. It is something akin to Danny Peary’s Cult Movies books from the early 1980s, covering the waterfront of movies that were much maligned when released but now considered classics, to those with small but rabid fanbases, to those that are still maligned but have something worth checking out. In the final analysis, A Cut Below is a joyful celebration of all things low budget, wild, wonderful, and above all…weird, and this party is a rager.

A Cut Below: A Celebration of B Horror Movies, 1950s-1980s by Scott Drebit is currently available at all the major online book retailers or directly from the publisher, McFarland at mcfarlandbooks.com.

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‘Jaws 2’ – Diving into the Underrated Sequel’s Very Different Novelization

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It took nearly five decades for it to happen, but the tide has turned for Jaws 2. Not everyone has budged on this divisive sequel, but general opinion is certainly kinder, if not more merciful. Excusing a rehashed plot — critic Gene Siskel said the film had “the same story as the original, the same island, the same stupid mayor, the same police chief, the same script…” — Jaws 2 is rather fun when met on its own simple terms. However, less simple is the novelization; the film and its companion read are like oil and water. While both versions reach the same destination in the end, the novelization’s story makes far more waves before getting on with its man-versus-shark climax.

Jaws 2 is not labeled as much of a troubled production as its predecessor, but there were problems behind the scenes. Firing the director mid-stream surely counts as a big one; John D. Hancock was replaced with French filmmaker Jeannot Szwarc. Also, Jaws co-writer Carl Gottlieb returned to rewrite Howard Sackler’s script for the sequel, which had already been revised by Hancock’s wife, Dororthy Tristan. What the creative couple originally had in store for Jaws 2 was darker, much to the chagrin of Universal. Hence Hancock and Tristan’s departures. Hank Searls’ novelization states it is “based on a screenplay by Howard Sackler and Dorothy Tristan,” whereas in his book The Jaws Log, Gottlieb claims the “earlier Sackler material was the basis” for the tie-in. What’s more interesting is the “inspired by Peter Benchley’s Jaws” line on the novelization’s cover. This aspect is evident when Searls brings up Ellen’s affair with Hooper as well as Mayor Larry Vaughan’s connection to the mob. Both plot points are unique to Benchley’s novel.

The novelization gives a fair idea of what could have been Jaws 2 had Hancock stayed on as director. The book’s story does not come across as dark as fans have been led to believe, but it is more serious in tone — not to mention sinuous — than Szwarc’s film. A great difference early on is how Amity looks and feels a few years after the original shark attack (euphemized by locals as “The Troubles”). In the film, it seems as if everything, from the townsfolk to the economy, is unaffected by the tragedies of ‘75. Searls, on the other hand, paints Amity as a ghost town in progress. Tourism is down and money is hard to come by. The residents are visibly unhappy, with some more than others. Those who couldn’t sell off their properties and vacate during The Troubles are now left to deal with the aftermath.

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Image: As Martin Brody, Roy Scheider opens fire on the beach in Jaws 2.

It is said that Roy Scheider only came back to fulfill a three-picture deal with Universal (with Jaws 2 counting as two films) and to avoid having his character recast. Apparently, he was also not too pleased (or pleasant) after Szwarc signed on. Nevertheless, Scheider turned in an outstanding performance as the returning and now quietly anguished Martin Brody. Even in the film’s current form, there are still significant remnants of the chief’s psychological torment and pathos. Brody opening fire on what he thought to be the shark, as shocked beachgoers flee for their lives nearby, is an equally horrifying and sad moment in the film. 

In a candid interview coupled with Marvel’s illustrated adaptation of Jaws 2, Szwarc said he had posted the message “subtlety is the picture’s worst enemy” above the editor’s bench. So that particular beach scene and others are, indeed, not at all subtle, but neither are the actions of Brody’s literary counterpart. Such as, his pinning the recent deaths on Jepps, a vacationing cop from Flushing. The trigger-happy drunk’s actual crimes are breaking gun laws and killing noisy seals. Regardless, it’s easier for Brody to blame this annoying out-of-towner than conceive there being another great white in Amity. Those seals, by the way, would normally stay off the shore unless there was something driving them out of the ocean…

Brody’s suspicions about there being another shark surface early on in the film. For too long he is the only one who will even give the theory any serious thought, in fact. The gaslighting of Brody, be it intentional or otherwise, is frustrating, especially when considering the character is suffering from PTSD. It was the ‘70s though, so there was no intelligible name for what Brody was going through. Not yet, at least. Instead, the film delivers a compelling (and, yes, unsubtle) depiction of a person who, essentially, returned from war and watched a fellow soldier die before his very eyes. None of that trauma registers on the Martin Brody first shown in Jaws 2. Which, of course, was the result of studio interference. Even after all that effort to make an entertaining and not depressing sequel, the finished product still has its somber parts.

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Image: A page from Marvel’s illustrated adaptation of Jaws 2.

How Brody handles his internal turmoil in the novelization is different, largely because he is always thinking about the shark. Even before there is either an inkling or confirmation of the new one. It doesn’t help that his oldest son, Mike, hasn’t been the same since The Troubles. The boy has inherited his father’s fear of the ocean as well as developed his own. Being kept in the dark about the second shark is also detrimental to Brody’s psyche; the local druggist and photo developer could have alleviated that self-doubt had he told Brody what he found on the dead scuba diver’s undeveloped roll of film. Instead, Nate Starbuck kept this visual proof of the shark to himself. His reasons for doing so are connected to the other pressing subplot in the novelization.

While the film makes a relatively straight line for its ending, Searls takes various and lengthy detours along the way. The greatest would be the development of a casino to help stimulate the local economy and bring back tourists. Brody incriminating Jepps inadvertently lands him smack dab in the middle of the shady casino deal, which is being funded with mafia money. A notorious mob boss from Queens, Moscotti, puts a target on Brody’s head (and his family) so long as the chief refuses to drop the charges against Jepps. In the meantime, the navy gets mixed up in the Amity horror after one of their helicopters crashes in the bay and its pilots go missing. A lesser subplot is the baby seal, named Sammy by Brody’s other son Sean, who the Brodys take in after he was wounded by Jepps. Eventually, and as expected, all roads lead back to the shark.

In either telling of Jaws 2, the shark is a near unstoppable killing machine, although less of a mindless one in the novelization. The film suggests this shark is looking for payback — Searls’ adaptation of Jaws: The Revenge clarifies this with a supernatural explanation — yet in the book, the shark is acting on her maternal instinct. Pregnant with multiple pups, the voracious mother-to-be was, in fact, impregnated by the previous maneater of Amity. Her desire to now find her offspring a safe home includes a body count. And perhaps as a reflection of the times, the author turns the shark and other animals’ scenes into miniature wildlife studies; readers are treated to small bits of infotainment as the story switches to the perspective of not only the killer shark, but also the seals and a navy-trained dolphin. The novelization doesn’t hold back on the scientific details, however weird as it may sound at times. One line sure to grab everyone’s attention: “There, passive and supine, she had received both of his yard-long, salami-shaped claspers into her twin vents.”

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Image: Roy Scheider’s character, Martin Brody, measures the bitemark on the orca in Jaws 2.

Up until the third act, the novelization is hard to put down. That’s saying a lot, considering the overall shark action borders on underwhelming. There is, after all, more to the story here than a fish’s killing spree. Ultimately though, Szwarc’s Jaws 2 has the more satisfying finale. Steven Spielberg’s film benefitted from delaying the shark’s appearance, whereas the sequel’s director saw no need for mystery. The original film’s reveal was lightning in a bottle. So toward the end, Jaws 2 transforms into a cinematic theme park ride where imagination isn’t required. The slasher-at-sea scenario is at full throttle as the villain — wearing her facial burn like a killer would wear their mask — picks off teen chum and even a pesky helicopter. And that’s before a wiry, go-for-broke Brody fries up some great white in the sequel’s cathartic conclusion. That sort of over-the-top finisher is better seen than read.

It would be a shame to let this other version of Jaws 2 float out to sea and never be heard from again. On top of capturing the quotidian parts of Amity life and learning what makes Brody tick, Hank Searls drew up persuasive plot threads that make this novelization unlike anything in the film franchise. If the Jaws brand is ever resurrected for the screen, small or big, it wouldn’t hurt to revisit this shark tale for inspiration.

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Image: The cover of Hank Searls’ novelization for Jaws 2.

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