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The trouble with pornography is that it tends to view desire strictly as a resident of the body, pure atavism with all intellect shunted into the role of providing the simplest available pretext to grant meaning to the acts of the flesh. This two-dimensional view is especially glaring in S+M porn, which is compressed into simplistic displays of aggression and acceptance, it's participants made caricatures of punishment and supplication. Most of the time, the resulting images seem more a cautionary on why we shouldn't want to see or experience it rather than why we would. Even in a well-meaning [and mainstream] film like Secretary, failure to understand the deeper truer meanings and energies of S+M leads the filmmakers to explain the behaviors of the protagonists in emotional shorthand more suited to an After-School Special.

Maria Beatty's films inhabit and reveal a new world. A New York-based performance artist and professional Submissive [bottom], Beatty regards both her films and her lifestyle as art forms demanding [and worthy of] respect [both hers and ours]. Beatty is an omnivorous filmmaker, drawing inspiration from everywhere. German expressionism, the edgy futurism of the best music videos, the larger-than-life personas of early century vamps like Theda Bara, Louise Brooks and Pola Negri, the artful stylish horror films of Whale and Browning, as well as her own experience both in performance and S+M. Shooting in black and white, her best films sculpt and paint light on the screen while glowing skin, dark kohl-smoked eyes and the hard gleam of leather, pvc and metal flash through the velvet shadows. The films are silent, accompanied by fascinating sounds capes that vary from ambiance to atonality. Often the soundtrack becomes an additional character, commenting on the tension that rises in the viewer as desire heightens in the characters. Expertly familiar with the power of sensory stimulation, Beatty uses both sight and sound to draw us in. The best filmmakers have all known the most memorable special effect is the audience's imagination; Beatty takes ours and bends it to her will.

The Elegant Spanking has a near classic silent-era feel, with Rosemary Delain and Beatty portraying Mistress and Maid Kitty respectively in a 'post-modern romantic subversion' that feels like a scene from a lost Anais Nin story. Buoyed by John Zorn's exquisitely fractured score, Delain and Beatty glide through their role-play smoothly and [yes] elegantly, most notably during their take on water sport, so tender and intimate that it reveals the true nature of the women's dynamic. What Delain and Beatty exchange is stronger than Power…it's something that will linger long after the lovers have parted

This is the movie that hooked me on "Film Noir." I first saw this on the late show while suffering a killer flu. Even through local TV editing and enough medicine to tranquilize a circus tent, it had me sitting at attention from start to finish. It wasn't until several years later that I got to see it uncut on cable that I got the full effect. Having grown up with Bogart's hard-boiled private eye archetype, Dick Powell was a complete revelation to me. If you double-bill this with Bogart's "Big Sleep," you see at once that Powell truly IS Phillip Marlowe (even Raymond Chandler thought so), and Bogart is much better suited to portray Hammet's colder, meaner Sam Spade. Powell gives Marlowe a vulnerable cynicism as well as a touch of the "everyman," that Bogart wouldn't be able to pull off until later in his career. Powell's background in romantic musicals gives him access to a far deeper emotional range, needed to play the complex and conflicted Marlowe; his cynicism, his humour, his loyalty to his code...it's all there. Powell manages to give extra resonance to some of Chandler's throw-away similes! No wonder he claimed this as his favorite role!

The direction by Edward Dmytryk and cinematography by Harry Wild are perfect, giving the film a tight, economical yet alluring vintage "feel". Working on a tight budget, they manage to infuse it with all the seedy, chaotic topography that would serve as the touchstones for every film of this type from "Night of the Hunter" to "Blade Runner." While this isn't the first Noir film, it may well be the best.

Films like "Carnival of Souls" make me a little sad. Sad that we've gotten too smart and too sophisticated, seen and heard and done too much for anything to scare us anymore. Face it, when was the last time a movie really scared you? Sure, sure, you may have been grossed out, or even shocked by the latest CGI gorefest playing at the Multiplex, but there's nothing really scary anymore.

Anyway, Director Herk Harvey's 1962 mini-opus is the kind of film that unwittingly tips its' hand from the very beginning. Fortunately, Harvey and writer John Clifford put so much gusto into what's really just a Twilight Zone plot that you have to follow along. Also credit the slightly off kilter, vaguely erotic presence of Candace Hilligoss in the lead role of Mary Henry. From the moment her character stumbles from a muddy river inlet after a drag-racing accident, she seems to resonate with a feeling of strangeness that defies explanation. Mary seems to drift from scene to scene, not really rooted to her surroundings or the characters she encounters. Though inadvertent, the wooden, overstated acting of the supporting cast reinforces the otherworldly feeling we get from Mary. What's the deal? Wait and see.

Really, we don't have to wait and see. I saw the ending of this film practically from the beginning, but it really doesn't matter all that much. Harvey and Clifford aren't really trying to scare us.the feeling they give us is one of creeping, impending dread.Modern movies all want to be rollercoasters.each with a bigger and more heart-stopping thrill. Watching `Carnival of Souls' is more like an uncertain and slightly warped merry go round.You may know where you're going and why, but your palms are still gonna sweat until it's all over.

This film is a MUST-SEE for fans of George Romero's "Night of the Living Dead."