A video essay I put together, excerpted from my new book, The Films of Martin Scorsese: Gangsters, Greed, and Guilt. Enjoy.
Works by Eric
I recently sat down with TRT World, an international news outlet out of Turkey, to talk about two of Martin Scorsese’s landmark works, GoodFellas and Raging Bull as part of their Showcase series. Here is my interview: And here is the full episode, which is worth watching. They do a great job of diving into these topics: My book, The Films of Martin Scorsese: Gangsters, Greed, and Guilt, is due out September 20 of this year via Rowman & Littlefield. It is now available for pre-order. Learn more about it here.
This was originally published all the way back in 2005, at DVD in My Pants. The following version does not include all of the photos taken (by me!) for the piece. The formatting may be wonky, too. I’m posting it mostly to keep it alive online. Two days of axes, gore and bloody stumps might sound terrifying, but for fans of the horror genre, it was just what the (mad) doctor ordered on September 24 and 25 in Secaucus, New Jersey. For two days genre fans gnawed at Fangoria’s Weekend of Horrors, where hundreds horror fans and a full slate of special guests offered up 48 hours of the mysterious, macabre and meaty. Read on as launches the first in a month-long celebration of all things horror….
Originally published in the Philadelphia Weekly, May. 30, 2012, but long since taken offline (though available on the Internet Archive). So here it is in full. Drinking beer: It’s an act that transcends mere enjoyment, isn’t it? Throughout history, we’ve had an almost spiritual connection with our beer, one that leans toward the most fierce, primal part of who we are as human beings. Whereas wine is seen as civilized, refined, and at times erotic, beer conjures up something quite different—something wild, something untamed. In ancient days, triumphant warriors returned home from a day of plunder to down their ale while bragging of victory—intoxication swelling each boast into a bloated, fantastical account of deeds that defy human abilities. Small wonder, then, that so many modern…
Unlike writing, I’ve still kept music “pure.” By that I mean it’s still something I go to when I just want to freely express myself, pushing out what’s in my head and heart and soul in an abstract way without worrying about whether or not it’s “right.” So when throughout 2019 I was working on an album I knew would end up being called “Empty Nest,” it wasn’t a formal project I was working towards — dear lord I do too much of that — it was just something I gravitated to when I wanted to escape my thoughts, cares, and worries of the day. Plug in the guitar, put on the headphones, and hope for the best, right? The following is the result, culled…