As it should, reading Brian Kellow’s recent bio of film critic Pauline Kael made me want to read more of her work. Making that conveniently possible is Picador’s reissue of Kael’s 1982 review compendium, 5001 Nights at the Movies.

It does not contain 5,001 reviews; it just feels like it might. A doorstop of nearly 1,000 pages, the trade paperback carries a heft more than physical, but intellectual as well. And yet, this may be Kael at her most accessible, as the reviews are capsules culled from years of work at The New Yorker‘s “Goings on About Town” column.

Whether you agree with her opinions — I find them incredibly unpredictable — it’s tough to deny her unique voice, making it a joy to read both praise and pans. I was surprised to find her a fan of 1980’s much-maligned Flash Gordon (“pleasurable giddiness”), Tim Burton’s blockbuster Batman (“mean and anarchic and blissful”) and Stuart Gordon’s line-crossing Re-Animator (“the bloodier it gets, the funnier it is”).

She also classified the latter as “a silly ghoulie classic,” which proves how unhip and grandmotherly she could sound. Who else would call Ghostbusters “a scare comedy” or Cleopatra Jones “a swashbuckler”?

Redeeming herself is her near-effortless wit, whether it’s in discussing someone onscreen (George C. Scott is “that great spangled ham,” while American Hot Wax‘s not-yet-famous Jay Leno is “shovel-faced”), summarizing a plot (“He hates porno the way John Wayne hates rustlers and Commies”) or just plain ripping into a film, as she does so splendidly to 1962’s “extremely unpleasant” Gypsy: “Rosalind Russell is the psychopathic stage mother who uses and destroys everyone within reach of her excruciatingly loud voice.”

On too-rare occasion, Kael ventured off into sections of weirdsville that suggest an extra drink or two while at the typewriter. For example, she opens her take on Clint Eastwood’s Heartbreak Ridge with this WTF line: “It’s well known that many people have strong feelings about anal intercourse, but it’s doubtful if a while movie had ever been devoted to the expression of those feelings of this one.”

And finally, much more often, the grande dame of cinema criticism could be dead wrong. Look, I like Brian De Palma’s The Fury, but in no way would I ever suggest that “no Hitchcock thriller was ever so intense, went so far, or had so many ‘classic’ sequences.” Pour me one, too, please, Pauline.

5001 Nights at the Movies is full of such surprises. Unlike a majority of movie reference guides, she’s the star here, making this a perfect gift for the film buff on your holiday list, yourself included. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.

I’m not sure whether to be proud or ashamed that I’ve seen so many of the movies covered in Brian Albright’s Regional Horror Films, 1958-1990, a state-by-state reference guide to fright flicks made independently of the studios, major and minor. I just assumed that the titles covered would be completely obscure.

To a majority of moviegoers, I’m sure they are. Yes, they include Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead, Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and Troma’s The Toxic Avenger, but those are exceptions to the rule — one populated by the likes of Zaat, Terror at Tenkiller, Dungeon of Harrow, Don’t Go in the Woods and Mardi Gras Massacre. Home video may have extended their audience greatly, but rarely so far to have penetrated the mainstream.

But before Albright gets to those, he gives a great introduction in “I Hear America Screaming,” offering a quick overview as he establishes the definition and criteria for the films covered. Why stop at 1990? Because the explosion of digital video and iMovie would have necessitated something the size of the Yellow Pages for the greater Los Angeles area. That’s a smart decision, because in my view, the luster seems to have been lost when the technology is no longer something people had to work to get.

Blood, sweat and tears inform these films — not trust funds, iPhones and Kickstarter campaigns. That’s not to say the end results are all good — heavens, no; in fact, the opposite is often the case. And it’s refreshing to hear the filmmakers admit their own faults in the 13 Q-and-A-style interviews that compose roughly half the trade paperback’s 336 pages. Among the most notable are, in order of ascending talent, J.R. Bookwalter (The Dead Next Door), William Grefé (Stanley) and Lewis Jackson (Christmas Evil).

The back half contains the state-by-state rundown (ignoring California on purpose, save for one), with the flicks presented in capsule format, but not as reviews. To his credit, Albright doesn’t pretend to have seen all of them, especially when one considers how difficult many are to acquire. His entries make me want to see scads of them.

With poster art galore, this is a reference book that horror-film fans didn’t know they needed. —Rod Lott

Buy it at Amazon.