Peter Normanton edited the Mammoth Book of Best Horror Comics along with twenty-eight issues of the horror comics fan publication From the Tomb. He is currently writing a series of short biographies for PS Publications fifteen-volume Harvey Horrors.
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First published in the UK by Robinson,
an imprint of Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2012
Copyright Peter Normanton, 2012
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UK ISBN: 978-1-78033-036-5 (paperback)
UK ISBN: 978-1-78033-041-9 (ebook)
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First published in the United States in 2012 by Running Press Book Publishers,
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US ISBN: 978-0-7624-4596-7
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Contents
Introduction:
A Born-Again Slasher
W AY BACK THEN you could scream all you wanted, but it was never going to make them stop, as for an entire decade the doors to the madhouse were thrown open to a plethora of hack and slash killers who were free to slip into school dormitories, college campuses, the woods, shopping malls or for the very unlucky their local neighbourhood. Each was armed with a sharp knife, with bloody murder in mind. There never was a decade quite like the eighties. Whether it was food, drink, fashion, music or film, these years can only be described as unique. And we took it all in, thriving on an excess of cheese (the cheesier the better), no more so than in the insanity of the slasher and splatter cinema that suddenly became so popular. As the newfound video market began to expand, so did the excess and we just couldnt get enough of it.
When we first discussed putting together this compilation of slasher and splatter movies, memories of a Monday evening in the pub way back in that sweltering summer of 1984 came to mind. Quite a few of us were serving our time on Thatchers ever lengthening dole queues as recession continued to ravage an already declining British industry, so a night in the pub was something of a treat. As the miners fought pitched battles with the police in the grim hope of preserving their livelihood, we were hunting down the video nasties that back then were all the rage. If these films hadnt acquired such notoriety we probably would never have bothered with many of them; in fact more than a fair share of them were just plain boring. But did that stop us? No it certainly didnt. That evening the conversation had drifted from how good Van Halen had been at Castle Donnington and the prospect of a new Rush album to the grisly murders in our favourite slasher movies. Needless to say after a few pints of Burtonwoods finest ale our recollection of the gruesome episodes that had been the driving force behind these films had become a little distorted; who killed who and how was now confused. Ironically, given the content of the tome you now have in your hands, I was the one who started to ridicule this excess, delighting in deliberately muddling the butchery of Friday the 13th Part II with The Boogeyman and Happy Birthday to Me. After four years of unrelenting blood and guts, we had completely overdosed on this gore-ridden pageant. It seems odd when I look back, but I never went to see the sensation that terrorised the cinema-going public in the latter months of that year, Wes Cravens A Nightmare on Elm Street. The poor dubbing, dodgy acting, along with the screaming scantily clad girls and the endless masked killers had finally numbed my senses, and at that moment I needed something different in life. While my interest in horror movies never entirely waned, the gore-mongering passion that had possessed me during those truculent years of my late teens and early twenties had begun to fade.
In the ensuing years, I was all too frequently found stalking the back streets of Manchester city centre rummaging through boxes of old comic books, in search of more horror. A lasting memory of these shops was the racks of videos, and what a lurid display they were! There were many films on show in these shops to which I had never before been privy, and they looked every bit as deranged as the terrors I had previously been watching. The real nasties of those years, however, were conspicuous by their absence; it would be years before I finally understood why I never had the chance to see a copy of Lucio Fulcis The New York Ripper, and later in these pages if you live in the UK you will discover exactly why. My interest in these kill crazy movies was revitalized soon after I got married, and no it wasnt the sight of my wife hacking into a tender loin of beef; rather, it was Bob Clarkes
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