Review: 'Box Office Poison: Hollywood's Story in a Century of Flops'

History is written by the winners, and you can't have winners without plenty of losers. If we're talking about cinema, those losers are the over-budget, the ill-conceived, the box office disasters, the digitally-enhanced-cat-furred. Such films are the focus of Tim Robey in his new book Box Office Poison, which homes in on 26 flops that altered, or at least passed through, cinema history. His one criteria for inclusion was a film that earned significantly less than it cost. The causes of such failure are myriad. A movie might be the victim of over-complication and undercooked rabble-rousing (Intolerance), megalomania and depravity (Queen Kelly), too much boundary pushing for contemporary audiences (Freaks and Sylvia Scarlett), studio butchery and artistic inattention (The Magnificent Ambersons), outsized competition (Sorcerer, trampled by Star Wars), good-'ol artistic differences (David Lynch and Dino De Laurentiis at loggerheads over Dune), pure putridity (Nothing But Trouble, my personal pick for the worst movie ever made), shoddy special effects and shoddier pre-release press (Cats), or meddling maniacal stars and giraffes who stomp on their own dicks (Doctor Dolittle). 

Review: 'Blazing Saddles Meets Young Frankenstein'

Mel Brooks is widely and rightfully considered to be one of the giants of comedy cinema, although that reputation mostly hinges on just a few movies. Sure, a dedicated few may thump tubs for High Anxiety, History of the World Part 1, or even Space Balls, but if we're being honest, Brooks's screen rep is really down to The Producers, Blazing Saddles, and Young Frankenstein. Amazingly, the latter two films came out in the same year. Only Roxy Music used 1974 as well as Mel Brooks did. 

Review: Expanded Vinyl Reissue of Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers' 'Long After Dark'

Because their videos were staples in the early days of MTV, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers always had a vague new-wave whiff, even though they were really sixties-rock revivalists in the jangly Byrds/Love mode. They actually embraced some specific semblance of new-waveyness when experimenting with synthesizers on their first post-MTV LP, Long After Dark. The video for the synth-laced "You Got Lucky' even had a sort of futuristic Mad Max-on-a-budget feel. However, the foundation of the track was pure Arthur Lee-toughness, and that barely compromised rock and roll attitude flushed through the rest of the album, too. 

Review: 'Star Trek-The Illustrated Oral History: The Original Cast'

Star Trek-The Illustrated Oral History: The Original Cast is not the first oral history of that boldly going sci-fi archetype, but it's unique in that all of its quotes were pulled from a single source—Titan's long-running Star Trek Magazine— and that "illustrated" bit. This is a beautiful little book, illustrated with color photos of what could be TV's most splendidly vivid series. 

Review: Vinyl Reissues of Pete Townshend's 'Iron Man: The Musical' and 'Psychoderelict (Music Only)'

After The Who broke up, Pete Townshend seemed to want to distance himself from his old band's roiling and raw hard rock as much as possible, so he issued a series of slick LP musicals that ranged from the personal to the surprisingly impersonal. First up was a project of the former stripe, as White City was largely inspired by Townshend's experiences working alongside his then-wife in a women's shelter, and though it revealed its 1985 origins with its synthesizers and glossy production, there was still some bite in tracks like "Give Blood" and "Secondhand Love". With its themes of anger, shame, and fame, White City was nearly as personal a record as either of Townshend's two more Who-like ones that preceded it.

Review: 'The Name of the Band Is R.E.M.'

Unlikely as it was, the mysterious and insular R.E.M. became the biggest college rock band of the eighties, and one of the nineties' biggest bands of any stripe, so they've naturally been the topic of their share of biographies. Yet there's is a tough story to tell with the usual rock and roll salaciousness that pins cynical eyes to pages. Their story is suspiciously lacking in drug-crazed binges, intraband hair-pulling bouts, humiliating flops, and groupie abuse. R.E.M. were basically four nice guys who liked each other. One shouting match during the making of Monster and cutting Peter Holsapple out of the lucrative co-writing credits for "Low" was probably the most Mick-and-Keith things they ever did. Sure, Peter Buck did have that one well-publicized fit of air rage, but mostly he settled for strolling around town in his PJs and robe while tugging on a tallboy to get his ya-yas out.

Review: Vinyl Reissue of The dB's 'Repercussion'

The dB's got lumped in with the college rockers, but had they been around fifteen years earlier, they would have been a perfectly commercial pop band...albeit one who's best-known song tells the tale of a poor schlub who decides to end it all after his girlfriend not only dumps him but steals all his shit... well, all of it except for his amplifier.

Review: 'Electric Lady Studios: A Jimi Hendrix Vision' Vinyl Box Set

After recording their masterpiece, 1968's Electric Ladyland, the Jimi Hendrix Experience began to fall apart. Noel Redding's departure hardly halted Hendrix from getting right back to work though. He set up shop in his newly constructed Electric Lady Studios in NYC with Mitch Mitchell and new bassist/old friend Billy Cox to work on a funkier, less trippy batch of songs, including fierce items like "Dolly Dagger", "Ezy Rider", and "Room Full of Mirrors" and gorgeous ones like "Angel" and "Drifting". The bulk of the sessions stretched from late 1969 through August 1970.