An alien entity that can take any living form invades an isolated scientific research station in the Antarctic. John Carpenter's "The Thing "is best known for some of the most startling visual effects - surreal, lurid, shocking perversions of the human body - ever committed to celluloid. At London's National Film Theatre in 1995, Quentin Tarantino named "The Thing" as one of his favorite films. Yet when it was released in 1982, it fared badly against another alien encounter movie, "E.T.," and critics panned it. But "The Thing "has aged well, and its influence can now be detected in everything from "Seven" to "Red Dwarf "and "The X Files." In her elegant and trenchant study, Anne Billson argues that "The Thing" has never been given its due. For Billson, it's a landmark movie that brilliantly refines the conventions of classic horror and science fiction, combining them with humor, Lewis Carroll logic, strong characterizations and prescient insight. The idea of an alien species mutating and inhabiting humans resonates all too chillingly with the mad cow disease crisis and today's new and ever more powerful genetic technology.
The Thing about Roy Fisher is the first critical book to be dedicated to the work of this outstanding poet, who has won many admirers for his explorations of the modem city, his experiments with perception and sensory experience, his jazz-inspired prose, and his political and cultural comedies. The collection brings together a distinguished group of contributors: poets and critics, from several generations, active on both sides of the Atlantic. In a dozen newly commissioned essays they discuss the entire range of Roy Fisher’s work, from its fraught beginnings in the 1950s through such major texts of the 1960s and 1970s as City, The Ship’s Orchestra and Wonders of Obligation, to A Furnace, his 1980s masterpiece, and beyond. The essays are closely engaged with the fabric of Fisher’s verse, but they also bring into view a fascinating array of connections between contemporary poetry and philosophy, psychology; the visual arts and jazz. The Thing about Roy Fisher ends with a full and up-to-date bibliography; an essential starting point for further study of this versatile and complex writer, whose centrality and importance within modern English and European poetry is now more than ever apparent. Kerrigan and Robinson’s collection provides a helpful introduction to Roy Fisher’s work, and will be necessary reading for anyone with a live interest in modern poetry. "If you haven’t been introduced before, meet Roy Fisher; a major figure of twentieth century literature-inventive, exciting and unpredictable."—Eleanor Cooke, Raw Edge "Roy Fisher’s work is something altogether rare in contemporary British poetry."—David Sexton, The Sunday Times
Consigned to the deep freeze of critical and commercial reception upon its release in 1982, The Thing has bounced back spectacularly to become one of the most highly regarded productions from the 1980s 'Body Horror' cycle of films, experiencing a wholesale and detailed reappraisal that has secured its place in the pantheon of modern cinematic horror. Thirty years on, and with a recent prequel reigniting interest, Jez Conolly looks back to the film's antecedents and forward to the changing nature of its reception and the work that it has influenced. The themes discussed include the significance of The Thing's subversive antipodal environment, the role that the film has played in the corruption of the onscreen monstrous form, the qualities that make it an exemplar of the director's work and the relevance of its legendary visual effects despite the advent of CGI. Topped and tailed by a full plot breakdown and an appreciation of its notoriously downbeat ending, this exploration of the events at US Outpost 31 in the winter of 1982 captures The Thing's sub-zero terror in all its gory glory.
On the grounds of the interpretation of Rainer Maria Rilke¿s poetry and Paul Cézanne¿s paintings the book attempts to approach the work of art as a thing. This lets to overcome a one-sided aesthetical interpretation of the origin of the work of art and to indicate its place in the cosmos of uncreated, i.e. not hominized things. So, the second fundamental issue raised is a try to point out a metaphysical difference between a hominized and not hominized (natural) thing. Such a non-aesthetical point of view is called ontotopy by the author and is opposed to traditional ontology and the philosophy of art.
What is the human body? Both the most familiar and unfamiliar of things, the body is the centre of experience but also the site of a prehistory anterior to any experience. Alien and uncanny, this other side of the body has all too often been overlooked by phenomenology. In confronting this oversight, Dylan Trigg’s The Thing redefines phenomenology as a species of realism, which he terms unhuman phenomenology. Far from being the vehicle of a human voice, this unhuman phenomenology gives expression to the alien materiality at the limit of experience. By fusing the philosophies of Merleau-Ponty, Husserl, and Levinas with the horrors of John Carpenter, David Cronenberg, and H.P. Lovecraft, Trigg explores the ways in which an unhuman phenomenology positions the body out of time. At once a challenge to traditional notions of phenomenology, The Thing is also a timely rejoinder to contemporary philosophies of realism. The result is nothing less than a rebirth of phenomenology as redefined through the lens of horror.
Paul “Rocky” Cody’s destiny was laid out for him before he was born. And on the slopes of the Appalachian Mountains in eastern Kentucky, the name Cody means family, and loyalty. But over the years, it has also become synonymous with legends of devil dogs with black fur and yellow eyes; the Appalachian Hellhound, spurring the evolution of the Hellhounds Motorcycle Club. When Rocky’s leadership is needed in Michigan, he decides to stay, serving as Vice President for a chapter badly in need of reorganization. Pouring himself into the role, he gives the Marysville Hellhounds his loyalty, his blood, and most importantly, his name. But at forty-two, he’s never had a thing to call his own. Sunny Anderson was broken a long time ago, but at thirty, she’s managed to pick up the pieces and start over… again. All she wants is a little peace and quiet for her and her daughter, the only thing she’s got left. She finds her solace in a little bungalow, surrounded by trees and abandoned farmland. But something more sinister lurks close by, something that will send Sunny on a collision course with the Hellhounds. Forced to stand her ground when the Hellhounds come knocking, she soon finds out that she’s got a part in the events that begin to play out. And Rocky can’t stay away from the fierce little woman in the woods, especially when his own family legends begin to take form. Thrown together, Sunny and Rocky must find a way to navigate their pasts together so that maybe, just maybe, they can have a future.