The essential guide to movies of the ‘60s & ‘70s
Edited by Lee Pfeiffer and Dave Worrall
Published by Solo Publishing
PO Box 1570
BH23 4XS, England
1960’s iconography is a weird anomaly showing absolutely no signs of remission. A politically and racially turbulent decade in America, marked by assassinations, communist anxiety, the war in Vietnam, and heated xenophobia, it was also host to the last ripple of the Baby Boom. While the older members were beginning to stir havoc on college campuses across the country, their younger siblings were still basking in the waning minutes of a post-WWII white, middle-class utopia. Never mind those elementary school lessons in hiding under desks during nuclear attacks; it was the final bow of apple pie, the white picket fence, and plenty of whatever it was that the bland, nouveau bourgeoisie could want.
Thoughts of the period are always lingering about for those of us who dwell about in pop culture, even contemporary pop culture which is so often stacked against people and occurrences of thirty or forty years ago. How many new musical acts are still held up to The Beatles? How many current film directors are measured beside Alfred Hitchcock? ‘The Sixties,’ as we’ve come to know them, began around 1964 and ended roughly ten years later…from The Beatles to Watergate. Those two hefty milestones surely sum up the amplified positive and negative forces of the decade, Nixon’s yin to John, Paul, George and Ringo’s yang.
Which brings us to Cinema Retro
, a flavorful new magazine put together between England and America, “by two middle aged, heterosexual white guys…reflecting the values of…well, two middle aged heterosexual white guys,” according to editors Lee Pfeiffer and Dave Worrall in issue number two. Distinctly Baby Boomer material all the way, the publication holds an unwavering reverence for ‘60s and ‘70s popcorn cinema, but, perhaps more significantly, revels in its unique brand of enthusiasm.
Some may scoff at the ostensibly limited range and its bias for male-oriented fare along the lines of James Bond, Sergio Leone, The Great Escape
and hubba-hubba cheesecake pinups. But there are a smattering of unexpected and worthy tributes throughout on subjects that one doesn’t normally run across, such as Christopher Frayling’s interview with a garrulous Ken Adam, Gareth Owen’s brief piece on Britain’s Pinewood Studio releases of the late ‘50s, Peter Haigh’s remembrance of Michael Anderson’s The Dam Busters
(1955), and perhaps the world’s first treatise on producer Euan Lloyd’s westerns, Shalako
(1971) and The Man Called Noon