Suburban Fantastic Cinema is a study of American movies in which preteen and teenage boys living in the suburbs are called upon to combat a disruptive force that takes the form of popular cultural figures of the fantastic—aliens, ghosts, vampires, demons, and more. Beginning in the 1980s with Poltergeist and E.T. (both 1982) and a cycle of films made by Amblin Entertainment, the suburban fantastic established itself as a popular commercial model combining coming-of-age melodramas with elements drawn from science fiction, fantasy, and horror. The films that exemplify the subgenre generally focus on a young male protagonist who, at the outset, chafes at his stifling suburban milieu, wherein power is invested in whiteness, maleness, and heterosexuality. A fantastic occurrence intervenes - the arrival of an alien, a ghost, or some other magical or otherworldly force - threatening this familiar order, thrusting the young man - at first unwittingly - into the role of defender and upholder of the social order. He is able to rescue the suburban social order, and in doing so normalizes (for himself and for the primarily white, male, adolescent audience) its values. This study discusses some of the key instances of this subgenre, such as Gremlins (1984), Back to the Future (1985), Jumanji (1995), and Small Soldiers (1998), as well as its more recent resurgence in Stranger Things (2016–) and IT (2017). Exploring the importance of suburbia as a setting and the questionable ideological blindness of its heroes, this book reveals these underappreciated Hollywood films as the primary cinematic representation of late-twentieth-century American childhood.

"Best moving pictures I ever saw." Thus did one Vaudeville theater manager describe Georges Méliès's A Trip to the Moon [Le Voyage dans la lune], after it was screened for enthusiastic audiences in October 1902. Cinema's first true blockbuster, A Trip to the Moon still inspires such superlatives and continues to be widely viewed on DVD, on the Internet, and in countless film courses. In Fantastic Voyages of the Cinematic Imagination, leading film scholars examine Méliès's landmark film in detail, demonstrating its many crucial connecions to literature, popular culture, and visual culture of the time, as well as its long "afterlife" in more recent films, television, and music videos. Together, these essays make clear that Méliès was not only a major filmmaker but also a key figure in the emergence of modern spectacle and the birth of the modern cinematic imagination, and by bringing interdisciplinary methodologies of early cinema studies to bear on A Trip to the Moon, the contributors also open up much larger questions about aesthetics, media, and modernity. In his introduction, Matthew Solomon traces the convoluted provenance of the film's multiple versions and its key place in the historiography of cinema, and an appendix contains a useful dossier of primary-source documents that contextualize the film's production, along with translations of two major articles written by Méliès himself.

Filmograpy: p. (180)-221. Discusses the rise of the fantasy movie from 1950 to 1984.

The author of "Immoral Tales" now brings readers into the exotic, erotic, and eccentric international film scene. Fully illustrated, this book includes an Indian song-and-dance version of "Dracula"; Turkish version of "Star Trek" and "Superman"; China's "hopping vampire" films, and much more. 332 illustrations. of color photos.

Under modernity, time is regarded as linear and measurable by clocks and calendars. Despite the historicity of clock-time itself, the modern concept of time is considered universal and culturally neutral. What Walter Benjamin called “homogeneous, empty time” founds the modern notions of progress and a uniform global present in which the past and other forms of time consciousness are seen as superseded. In Translating Time, Bliss Cua Lim argues that fantastic cinema depicts the coexistence of other modes of being alongside and within the modern present, disclosing multiple “immiscible temporalities” that strain against the modern concept of homogeneous time. In this wide-ranging study—encompassing Asian American video (On Cannibalism), ghost films from the New Cinema movements of Hong Kong and the Philippines (Rouge, Itim, Haplos), Hollywood remakes of Asian horror films (Ju-on, The Grudge, A Tale of Two Sisters) and a Filipino horror film cycle on monstrous viscera suckers (Aswang)—Lim conceptualizes the fantastic as a form of temporal translation. The fantastic translates supernatural agency in secular terms while also exposing an untranslatable remainder, thereby undermining the fantasy of a singular national time and emphasizing shifting temporalities of transnational reception. Lim interweaves scholarship on visuality with postcolonial historiography. She draws on Henri Bergson’s understanding of cinema as both implicated in homogeneous time and central to its critique, as well as on postcolonial thought linking the ideology of progress to imperialist expansion. At stake in this project are more ethical forms of understanding time that refuse to domesticate difference as anachronism. While supernaturalism is often disparaged as a vestige of primitive or superstitious thought, Lim suggests an alternative interpretation of the fantastic as a mode of resistance to the ascendancy of homogeneous time and a starting-point for more ethical temporal imaginings.

About 2,500 genre films are entered under more than 100 subject headings, ranging from abominable snowmen through dreamkillers, rats, and time travel, to zombies, with a brief essay on each topic: development, highlights, and trends. Each film entry shows year of release, distribution company, country of origin, director, producer, screenwriter, cinematographer, cast credits, plot synopsis and critical commentary.

Here, for the first time in English print, is the inspiring story of a humble and soft-spoken man who became one of the most-prolific directors in the history of fantasy films. Raised in a primitive Japanese village by a Buddhist monk, Ishiro Honda fell in love with films at a young age and soon enrolled in film school with the intent of one day becoming a director. Called to enlist in the Imperial Japanese Army druing World War II, he returned with a knowledge of the futility of war and a dread of the atomic age. A dedicated craftsman who directed over 80 films during a remarkable 60-plus year career, Honda is undeservedly remembered mostly as the "greatest director" of the famous Japanese monster film series; however, he was in fact much more. Utelizing a wide-variety of source material never before assembled into one volume, Mushroom Clouds and Mushroom Men is an objective critical analysis and definitve study of a man whose fantasy films -- when seen in their original versions -- are "beautiful nightmares" of quality and subtext which transcend the visceral thrill of watching monsters destroying cities. Honda's admirers include George Lucas, Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg and his films are masterpieces of entertainment that have enthralled audiences for generations . . . and will for generations to come.

Pan's Labyrinth, Stranger Than Fiction, The Science of Sleep ... Surreal and fantastic cinema is enjoying a resurgence. A movement that goes back to the earliest days of cinema, it provides an exemplary case study to introduce all sorts of concepts--auteur study, representations, 'shocking cinema', textual analysis. Neil Coombs's guide is ideal for students new to the field, providing an explanation of the origins of Surrealism followed by detailed analyses from the history of 'world cinema', including: Bu uel's The Phantom of Liberty, Svankmajer's Alice, Cocteau's Orph e, Lynch's Lost Highway, Jeunet and Caro's The City of Lost Children, and the work of screenwriter Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich) and director David Cronenberg (A History of Violence).