A word of warning to those interested in the book ’80s Action Movies on the Cheap: 284 Low Budget, High Impact Pictures: “Cheap” is an adjective not used carelessly, so expect neither Stallone nor Schwarzenegger. Know that there is nary a Batman or Bond, and that Van Damme is more or less persona non grata. In fact, Mr. American Ninja himself, Michael Dudikoff, is as mainstream as it gets. This is the kind of book in which Reb Brown claims 14 pages, which is nothing compared to Godfrey Ho’s 36 — and if you don’t know who they are, this McFarland & Company paperback release is not for you. I happen to love it like a child.

One-half of the team behind Bleeding Skull!: A 1980s Trash-Horror Odyssey, Daniel R. Budnik has put his life on the line to suffer through nearly 300 ass-kickin’ flicks of the Reagan era, some of which actually played theatrically from coast to coast. Others, not so much, but they sure-as-shit clogged the shelves of Bob’s Video Haven (or whatever the mom-and-pop VHS rental outlet was called in your neck of suburbia). Budnik’s world is one filled with Caucasian ninjas and bikini babes, of Terminator rip-offs and Conan wannabes, of kill squads and lone wolves, of lost empires and the occasional Miami connection.

Grouped by year of release rather than letter of the alphabet, each movie covered is done so in Budnik’s no-nonsense, subject/predicate-style — short on flourish, but high in chuckles. To, uh, wit:
• On misleading titles: “Jungle Warriors is not a very good film. But it does have jungle in it.”
• On the Rambo-esque The Last Mercenary: “So they begin throwing an African child into the air and shooting him. … Who came up with this idea? And is he in prison?”
• On Andy Sidaris’ Malibu Express: “There are more beautiful women in this movie than can be reasonably counted.”
• On the Erik Estrada vehicle Light Blast: “Estrada acquits himself well and looks great in his underpants holding a turkey.”
• On Penthouse Pet turned Silk 2 star Monique Gabrielle: “Ms. Gabrielle is gorgeous and sexy as hell. But she’s as much of an action film star as Selma Diamond.”

I found that last line in particular so rib-tickling that I forgive him for mauling Yellow Hair and the Fortress of Gold director Matt Cimber’s last name as “Climber” across all five mentions (six if you include the index).

From The Great Skycopter Rescue or Robo Vampire, a lot of turds float in Budnik’s bowl of a book, front-to-back insanely entertaining. I can’t really complain that it is not a complete guide — missing are such notable bags of magnetic-tape trash as Killzone, Treasure of the Amazon, Laser Mission and Invaders of the Lost Gold; instead, I only cry out for a sequel. 9 Deaths of the Ninja is screaming your name, Danny Boy. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Jake Paltrow and Noah Baumbach’s 2016 documentary, De Palma, stands among my 10 favorite films of last year, with my only criticism being that it stops after 93 minutes. Anyone else who was left wanting more (and more and more) may find that itch somewhat scratched by Douglas Keesey’s Brian De Palma’s Split-Screen: A Life in Film. New in paperback from University Press of Mississippi, the book more or less takes the same tack of chronologically examining each of the filmmaker’s features — but here in more detail and from a perspective that is not the filmmaker’s own. A critical piece of Keesey’s thesis is examining how much of De Palma’s recurring themes — such as the ever-controversial merging of sexy women and graphic violence (Body Double and Dressed to Kill in particular) — is ingrained in the man’s own DNA. While he may lack in the behind-the-scenes dish, Keesey overflows with insight and ideas. The result is a close cousin of a Criterion commentary track, flooding your mind with a greater understanding and forcing you to see the films in a whole new light. Regardless of what De Palma might think of this book, I think it’s tops.

Take one look at Escape Velocity: American Science Fiction Film, 1950–1982 and you might sigh heavily and think, “Really? Another history of sci-fi movies?” Well, yes, but also no. For this Wesleyan University Press paperback, film professor Bradley Schauer does indeed take the reader on a fantastic voyage through sci-fi’s cinematic life, but more importantly fueled with cultural and economic perspectives, rather than merely the historical. Starting with the genre’s first recognition as such by studio powers and ending with its box-office apex of Best Picture nominee E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, the author covers ground swiftly yet smartly. Terrific design aside, what makes Escape Velocity so worthy of your time is the attention Schauer pays to such avenues of interest similar studies ignore: the value of camp, the infusion of politics, the rise and function of fanzines as film criticism, and the Star Wars-ization of blockbusters, more present today than ever.

Those who read Bryan Senn’s 2013 book, The Most Dangerous Cinema: People Hunting People on Film, will not be surprised at the sheer scope of his latest (and arguably greatest), The Werewolf Filmography: 300+ Films. Although far from the only text on the subject, it is hands (paws?) down the most complete and comprehensive to date, placing it well ahead of the pack. For each of the many, many movies covered, Senn reviews it in authoritative detail and with a healthy sense of humor — the latter primarily in lycanthropic descriptions, such as the “cross between a schnauzer and Fozzie Bear” in 1969’s Dracula (the Dirty Old Man). Every werewolf movie you could possibly think of is here, plus ones the average Joe Moviegoer is not likely to have been exposed to, including the rockin’ Werewolf of Woodstock; the clip comedy President Wolfman and the Paul Naschy/Fred Olen Ray sexploitation pairing, The Unliving. (See Senn’s recent Guest List for Flick Attack for seven unsung gems.) While valuable as a reference work, the McFarland & Company hardback is an absolute pleasure to read page by page, all 400-plus of them. The only thing I can hold against it is getting me interested in all those crazy Howling sequels. —Rod Lott

Get them at Amazon.