So here we are. Settle down at the back.
Why are you doing this?
You can blame Vince Keenan and Ethan Iverson. They are two very fine, inordinately handsome gentlemen with occasionally dubious taste in friends. So when they advised - nay, demanded - that I drag my sorry carcass to Substack1, it behooved me to acquiesce, as the kids say. Or at least consider it. Which I did. And this is the reason I have gathered you all here today2.
Who are you?
I’m Ray Banks. I wrote crime novels for a while, one of which made a Scotsman critic so angry they had to print another review. I’ve also written articles on film for a bunch of places, most notably the Film Noir Foundation’s Noir City, and used to have a film blog called Norma Desmond’s Monkey, which had dozens of followers.
So what’s the deal here?
Under The Influence steals its title in part from A Decade Under the Influence3, and will cover movies from 1966 - 1980 (ish), hopefully avoiding the much-discussed in favour of those that might warrant another look-see. It’ll also be a good excuse to plug a few viewing gaps of my own and explore the period beyond the usual suspects. Those fifteen years were a weird and wonderful time for movies, especially genre movies, so I hope to discover a few gems along the way. I do of course reserve the right to step out of the period when the fancy takes me, for I can be a whimsical creature.
By the way, unlike some other Substackers, I won’t be using the full initialisation of the title. Don’t want people to think it’s a urinary tract infection blog. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; it’s just not my area of expertise4.
You had me at urinary tract infection. I’m in. How much?
Nowt. Nothing. It’s free. Gratis. Just make sure I don’t end up in your spam folder - I don’t think I could handle that kind of rejection. Sure, there are vague notions of longer monthly pieces similar to the one on Alan Sharp’s noir movies that popped up over at Transitional Technology (go subscribe) which could be paid-only, but let’s just see how this pans out first. I could be shouting down a well here.
Anyway, that’s enough out of me for now. As the great Marty DiBergi once said, let’s boogie.
Next Up: “Their credo is violence … Their God is hate …”
“You’re the voice of a generation,” they said. “You cannot continue to have opinions that aren’t shared. We need you. Humanity needs you. You are our only hope.”
Also, one of you is a murderer.
A fine primer (alongside Biskind’s gossipy Easy Riders, Raging Bulls and Mark Harris’s Pictures at a Revolution) on New Hollywood. Any discussion of New Hollywood will be entirely coincidental, but probably unavoidable.
For what it’s worth, I hear cranberry juice helps.
Am I the murderer? If not, I’ve gotta run. Got a plane to catch.
Not as far as I know. Yours were more self-defence, as I recall. Or a least a series of freak accidents.