This collection analyses the significant
changes in the aesthetics, production and reception of Spanish cinema and
genre from 1990 to the present. It brings together European and North
American scholars to establish a critical dialogue on the topic of
contemporary Spanish cinema and genre while providing multiple perspectives
on the concepts of national cinemas and genre theory. We start from the
While post-war popular cinema has traditionally been excluded from accounts of national cinemas, the last fifteen years have seen the academy’s gradual rediscovery of cult and, more, generally, popular films. Why, many years after their release, do we now deem these films worthy of study? The book situates ‘low’ film genres in their economic and culturally specific contexts (a period of unstable ‘economic miracles’ in different countries and regions) and explores the interconnections between those contexts, the immediate industrial-financial interests sustaining the films, and the films’ aesthetics. It argues that the visibility (or not) of popular genres in a nation’s account of its cinema is an indirect but demonstrable effect of the centrality (or not) of a particular kind of capital in that country’s economy. Through in-depth examination of what may at first appear as different cycles in film production and history – the Italian giallo, the Mexican horror film and Hindi horror cinema – Capital and popular cinema lays the foundations of a comparative approach to film; one capable of accounting for the whole of a national film industry’s production (‘popular’ and ‘canonic’) and applicable to the study of film genres globally.
While among the most common of Renaissance genres, the epigram has been largely neglected by scholars and critics: James Doelman's The Epigram in England: 1590-1640 is the first major study on the Renaissance English epigram since 1947. It combines awareness of the genre's history and conventions with an historicist consideration of social, political and religious contexts. Tracing the oral, manuscript and print circulation of individual epigrams, the book demonstrates their central place in the period's poetic culture. The epigram was known for brevity, sharpness, and an urbane tone, but its subject matter ranged widely; thus, this book gives close attention to such sub-genres as the political epigram, the religious epigram and the mock epitaph. In its survey the book also considers questions of libel, censorship and patronage associated with the genre. While due attention is paid to such canonical figures as Ben Jonson and Sir John Harington, who used this humble (and sometimes scandalous) genre in poetically and socially ambitious ways, the study also draws on a wide range of neglected epigrammatists such as Thomas Bastard, Thomas Freeman and "Henry Parrot". More subject than author-oriented, epigrams often floated free, and this study gives full attention to the wealth of anonymous epigrams from the period. As epigram culture was not limited by language, the book also draws heavily upon Neo-Latin epigrams. In its breadth The Epigram in England serves as a foundational introduction to the genre for students, and through its detailed case studies it offers rich analysis for advanced scholars.
picaresque inside an animal’s body? And what happens when a
kangaroo develops the power of speech and starts wielding a gun? The
punchlines are all to be found in Jonathan Lethem’s writing, and
they are only partially comic. This book proceeds from the broad and
frequently rehearsed observation that Jonathan Lethem’s novels and
short stories subvert established fictional genres in some way, and that
The introductory chapter is written to help position the reader regarding the academic climate that saw the first edition of Hammer and Beyond materialise, to consider some of the book’s omissions, and to assess the state of British horror in the years immediately leading up to, and following, its publication.
Romeo as a love-struck zombie, Hamlet as a cowboy riding off into the sunset, Katherine the Shrew leading Her Majesty’s Opposition and King Lear heading a dynasty of circus acrobats – you name it, we have it! By the twenty-first century, one can hardly think of popular genre themes or settings that have not been tried and tested in screen adaptations of Shakespearean drama. The other side of the coin is equally remarkable: it is not simply adaptors of Shakespeare who rely on popular visual formats, but creators of popular visual culture also mine his work for
For me, coordinating a new edited collection around either
individual directors or performers comes too close to re-establishing the
romantic idea of
the author or auteur as sole creator of meaning in film or television.
Therefore, as the title of this book suggests, I asked my contributors to
concentrate specifically upon performance in conjunction with the concept of
genre. It has always
Firearm iconography in Western literature and film
Justin A. Joyce
. Repetition is in the service of working through or at
least in the service of refusing to forget. All three acts, recognition, repetition,
and working through, are features of cultural incorporation. Only a few facts
keep on being remembered as who we are and those facts are incorporated
and then, after a time, felt to be obvious and even trite.
Philip Fisher, Hard Facts1
After tracing the evolution of American self-defense doctrine and
American gun rights jurisprudence in the previous two chapters to ground
an interpretation of the Western genre, I note here that the
TV antiquity explores representations of ancient Greece and Rome throughout television history. It is the first comprehensive overview of the genre in television. More specifically, the author argues that serial television set in antiquity offers a perspective on the ancient world quite distinct from their cinematic counterparts. The book traces the historic development of fictional representations of antiquity from the staged black-and-white shows of the 1950s and 1960s to the most recent digital spectacles. A key argument explored throughout the book is that the structure of serial television (with its focus on intimacy and narrative complexity) is at times better suited to explore the complex mythic and historic plots of antiquity. Therefore, the book consciously focuses on multipart television dramas rather than made-for-TV feature films. This enables the author to explore the specific narrative and aesthetic possibilities of this format. The book features a range of insightful case studies, from the high-profile serials I, Claudius (1976) and Rome (2005–8) to lesser-known works like The Caesars (1968) or The Eagle of the Ninth (1976) and popular entertainment shows such as Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995–99) and STARZ Spartacus (2010–13). Each of the case studies also teases out broader issues of the specific decade under consideration. Consequently, the book highlights the creative interplay between television genres and production environments and illustrates how cultural and political events have influenced the representations of antiquity in television.
This is a comprehensive critical study of Anthony Asquith. The author sets the director's work in the context of British cinema from the silent period to the 1960s, and examines the artistic and cultural influences within which his films can be understood. Asquith's silent films were compared favourably to those of his eminent contemporary Alfred Hitchcock, but his career faltered during the 1930s. However, the success of Pygmalion (1938) and French Without Tears (1939), based on plays by George Bernard Shaw and Terence Rattigan respectively, together with his significant contributions to wartime British cinema, re-established him as one of Britain's leading film makers. Asquith's post-war career includes several pictures in collaboration with Rattigan, and the definitive adaptation of Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest (1951), but his versatility is demonstrated effectively in a number of modest genre films including The Woman in Question (1950), The Young Lovers (1954) and Orders to Kill (1958).