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Over the last five years, a cycle of films has emerged addressing the ongoing Iraq conflict. Some became well-known and one of them, The Hurt Locker, won a string of Oscars. But many others disappeared into obscurity. What is it about these films that led Variety to dub them a 'toxic genre'?

Martin Barker analyses the production and reception of these recent Iraq war films. Among the issues he examines are the borrowing of soldiers’ YouTube styles of self-representation to generate an ‘authentic’ Iraq experience, and how they take refuge in ‘apolitical’ post-traumatic stress disorder. Barker also looks afresh at some classic issues in film theory: the problems of accounting for film ‘failures’, the shaping role of production systems, the significance of genre-naming and the impact of that 'toxic' label.

A 'Toxic Genre' is fascinating reading for film studies students and anyone interested in cinema's portrayal of modern warfare.

Since the late nineteenth century, Brazilians have turned to documentaries to explain their country to themselves and to the world. In a magisterial history covering one hundred years of cinema, Darlene J. Sadlier identifies Brazilians’ unique contributions to a diverse genre while exploring how that genre has, in turn, contributed to the making and remaking of Brazil.

A Century of Brazilian Documentary Film is a comprehensive tour of feature and short films that have charted the social and political story of modern Brazil. The Amazon appears repeatedly and vividly. Sometimes—as in a prize-winning 1922 feature—the rainforest is a galvanizing site of national pride; at other times, the Amazon has been a focus for land-reform and Indigenous-rights activists. Other key documentary themes include Brazil’s swings from democracy to dictatorship, tensions between cosmopolitanism and rurality, and shifting attitudes toward race and gender. Sadlier also provides critical perspectives on aesthetics and media technology, exploring how documentaries inspired dramatic depictions of poverty and migration in the country’s Northeast and examining Brazilians’ participation in streaming platforms that have suddenly democratized filmmaking.

This premier analysis of her body of work explores how Dressler refocused the generic frame of her films beyond the shallow problems of the rich and beautiful, instead dignifying the marginalized, the elderly, women, and the poor. Sturtevant inteprets the meanings of Dressler's body through different genres, venues, and historical periods by looking at her vaudeville career, her transgressive representation of an "unruly" yet sexual body in Emma and Christopher Bean, ideas of the body politic in the films Politics and Prosperity, and Dressler as a mythic body in Min and Bill and Tugboat Annie.

Ever since horror leapt from popular fiction to the silver screen in the late 1890s, viewers have experienced fear and pleasure in exquisite combination. Wheeler Winston Dixon's fully revised and updated A History of Horror is still the only book to offer a comprehensive survey of this ever-popular film genre.

Arranged by decades, with outliers and franchise films overlapping some years, this one-stop sourcebook unearths the historical origins of characters such as Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolfman and their various incarnations in film from the silent era to comedic sequels. In covering the last decade, this new edition includes coverage of the resurgence of the genre, covering the swath of new groundbreaking horror films directed by women, Black and queer horror films, and a new international wave in body horror films.

A History of Horror explores how the horror film fits into the Hollywood studio system, how the distribution and exhibition of horror films have changed in a post-COVID world, and how its enormous success in American and European culture expanded globally over time.

Dixon examines key periods in the horror film-in which the basic precepts of the genre were established, then banished into conveniently reliable and malleable forms, and then, after collapsing into parody, rose again and again to create new levels of intensity and menace. A History of Horror, supported by rare stills from classic films, brings over sixty timeless horror films into frightfully clear focus, zooms in on today's top horror Web sites, and champions the stars, directors, and subgenres that make the horror film so exciting and popular with contemporary audiences.
 

Horror is one of the most enduringly popular genres in cinema. The term “horror film” was coined in 1931 between the premiere of Dracula and the release of Frankenstein, but monsters, ghosts, demons, and supernatural and horrific themes have been popular with American audiences since the emergence of novelty kinematographic attractions in the late 1890s. A Place of Darkness illuminates the prehistory of the horror genre by tracing the way horrific elements and stories were portrayed in films prior to the introduction of the term “horror film.”

Using a rhetorical approach that examines not only early films but also the promotional materials for them and critical responses to them, Kendall R. Phillips argues that the portrayal of horrific elements was enmeshed in broader social tensions around the emergence of American identity and, in turn, American cinema. He shows how early cinema linked monsters, ghosts, witches, and magicians with Old World superstitions and beliefs, in contrast to an American way of thinking that was pragmatic, reasonable, scientific, and progressive. Throughout the teens and twenties, Phillips finds, supernatural elements were almost always explained away as some hysterical mistake, humorous prank, or nefarious plot. The Great Depression of the 1930s, however, constituted a substantial upheaval in the system of American certainty and opened a space for the reemergence of Old World gothic within American popular discourse in the form of the horror genre, which has terrified and thrilled fans ever since.

Writing successful screenplays that capture the public imagination and richly reward the screenwriter requires more than simply following the formulas prescribed by the dozens of screenwriting manuals currently in print. Learning the "how-tos" is important, but understanding the dramatic elements that make up a good screenplay is equally crucial for writing a memorable movie. In A Poetics for Screenwriters, veteran writer and teacher Lance Lee offers aspiring and professional screenwriters a thorough overview of all the dramatic elements of screenplays, unbiased toward any particular screenwriting method.

Lee explores each aspect of screenwriting in detail. He covers primary plot elements, dramatic reality, storytelling stance and plot types, character, mind in drama, spectacle and other elements, and developing and filming the story. Relevant examples from dozens of American and foreign films, including Rear Window, Blue, Witness, The Usual Suspects, Virgin Spring, Fanny and Alexander, The Godfather, and On the Waterfront, as well as from dramas ranging from the Greek tragedies to the plays of Shakespeare and Ibsen, illustrate all of his points.

This new overview of the dramatic art provides a highly useful update for all students and professionals who have tried to adapt the principles of Aristotle's Poetics to the needs of modern screenwriting. By explaining "why" good screenplays work, this book is the indispensable companion for all the "how-to" guides.

An in-depth analysis of Richard Linklater’s film adaptation of the semi-autobiographical Philip K. Dick novel, examining the film’s importance in the history of science fiction cinema.

From Blade Runner and Minority Report to The Man in the High Castle, the works of Philip K. Dick have been fertile ground for screen adaptation. Among the most visually and intellectually compelling, however, is the release that has received the least attention: Richard Linklater’s A Scanner Darkly.

In this revelatory work of criticism, scholar-novelist D. Harlan Wilson burrows deep inside Linklater’s meditation on identity and surveillance, addiction and the instability of perception. A Scanner Darkly features groundbreaking use of rotoscopy—filming live-action scenes, then drawing over the footage to animate it. Wilson argues that the technique captures the splintered consciousness of Dick’s protagonist and extends this psychological disintegration beyond the world on screen, inviting viewers into a fractured sense of self. More broadly, Wilson places the film in conversation with Linklater’s oeuvre, the history of science fiction cinema, and contemporary debates about technology, identity, and surveillance. A Scanner Darkly—the novel, the film, and now the critical interpretation—yields powerful insight into the forms of social control that define our era of digital selfhood, algorithmic monitoring, and artificial intelligence.

In this expanded second edition, award-winning Iranian filmmaker Mehrnaz Saeed-Vafa and film critic Jonathan Rosenbaum renew their illuminating cross-cultural dialogue on Kiarostami's work. The pair chart the filmmaker's late-in-life turn toward art galleries, museums, still photography, and installations. They also bring their distinct but complementary perspectives to a new conversation on the experimental film Shirin. Finally, Rosenbaum offers an essay on watching Kiarostami at home while Saeed-Vafa conducts a deeply personal interview with the director on his career and his final feature, Like Someone in Love.

Exploring how digital visual effects have changed the representations of the body and identity in action films.

When Harrison Ford appeared digitally de-aged in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, audiences witnessed more than a technical feat; they saw how visual effects are reshaping what bodies can be on screen. In Action Bodies, Drew Ayers examines how the contemporary action genre redefines embodiment across human, superhuman, animal, and machine forms. Ayers argues that action films are a crucial site for understanding how popular media both reflect and shape cultural debates about identity, citizenship, disability, and ethics in the era of big data and algorithmic culture.

Through case studies including Top Gun: Maverick, The Woman King, The Fast & the Furious franchise, and Avatar: The Way of Water, Ayers explores how VFX-altered bodies carry ideological weight. While the action genre has long leaned conservative in its politics of identity, its digitally mediated bodies also generate unexpected opportunities: glimpses of more inclusive and flexible modes of embodiment. As artificial intelligence and synthetic imagery continue to transform film production, Action Bodies demonstrates why careful attention to action cinema is essential for understanding how contemporary culture imagines and engineers the future of the body.

Offering a unique critical approach to understanding historical violence in the present

Colonial histories and their racializing assemblages persist in reconfigured forms, shaping conditions of life today. Rhiannon Noel Welch offers reverberation as an expansive concept with which to think about how aesthetics—etymologically, perception by the senses—hold, transmit, and resist colonialism’s many entangled afterlives. Though reverberation is commonly understood as an acoustic phenomenon similar to echo and resonance, Welch borrows from philosophy, philology, and physics to stretch conventional meanings of the term and emphasize its distinction from other sonic effects and metaphors. The archive assembled here includes works by artists and thinkers who reach for aesthetics (words, images, music) to contest empire’s longue durée—from early European colonialism in the Western Hemisphere to the transshipping of Africans across the Atlantic, Fascist Italy’s occupation of Ethiopia, and contemporary Mediterranean border regimes. In a series of close and interlinked readings of theory, poetry, film, and other media by Sylvia Wynter, Giacomo Leopardi, and Garrett Bradley, among others, Welch proposes reverberation as a material metaphor for how aesthetic works hit us as sentient participants in social worlds that are at once asymmetrical and inextricably linked. 

The book considers a range of films, beginning with the 1970s epics The Man Who Would Become King and The Horsemen and following the shifts in representation of the Muslim world during the Russian War in films such as The Beast and Rambo III. Graham then moves on to Taliban-era films such as Kandahar, Osama, and Ellipsis, the first Afghan film directed by a woman. Lastly, the book discusses imperialist nostalgia in films such as Charlie Wilson's War and destabilizing visions represented in contemporary works such as The Kite Runner.

Against the backdrop of the rising interest in African stories in mainstream media, African Animation looks at a more than century-old animation practice that remains largely unknown. Carefully organized, this book offers a comprehensive treatment that canvases animation from all over the continent, analyzing its history, socio-political contexts, artistic and technological development, visual cultures, and economic market conditions. African animation also contributes to the broader landscape of animation studies: how does our view of the history of animation change when we add an African perspective to the otherwise dominating perspectives of Hollywood, Japanese, and Korean animation? What does animation look and feel like in other parts of the world? African animation has always been there; this book helps us pay attention to it. This is a must-read for those interested in African animation, including artists, industry insiders, and fans.