Following several enticing bread crumbs, I now find myself happily participating in Silver Screenings and The Rosebud Cinema's 1967 Blogathon. (Of course, I just wrote up In the Heat of the Night. *sigh*). And while I contemplated venturing into the lunatic sleaze-noir of Michael and Roberta Findlay's The Touch of Her Flesh, I decided to tackle something just as demented instead:
a/k/a The College Girl Murders, one of Rialto film's most whackadoodle Edgar Wallace adaptations. And if I manage to survive that, I've also got a few thought on The Born Losers I'm dying to share.
I'm participating. Are you?
And coming up in July, I've also wrangled a spot in Krell Labs and Bemused and Nonplussed's John Ford Blogathon. And for that, well, since I just wrote up Fort Apache (*double sigh*), I guess I'll just have to settle on this one. Anybody heard of it?
I'd been noodling a write-up on this film ever since finally reading Alan Le May's novel last year and picking it up the BluRay, where I finally noticed something -- something you'll have to wait and read to find out what. And now, at last, proper motivation to actually get it done. (And if I get my crap together, I'll also take a run at Donovan's Reef.)
Stay tuned, Boils and Ghouls.
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