MOVIE REVIEW--John Wick: Chapter 2 (2017)

There will not be a better pure action movie this year than John Wick: Chapter 2. There, I said it, and if anyone disagrees with me, I challenge you to a duel with pistols. Or a thumb-wrestling contest. Your choice.

For this second go-round, our titular assassin rips apart Rome when a specter from his past—one of those smirking villains that you desperately want to see deep-throat a hollowpoint—shows up and cashes in a marker that forces Wick back into the killing game. And director Chad Stahelski makes ample use of the exotic locales, setting the action against one stunning backdrop after another. Seriously, you haven’t fully lived until you’ve watched a world-class trigger-puller destroy dozens of dirtbags with a shotgun in the catacombs.

Just like the first movie, Chapter 2 nails the violence, eschewing the inexplicably popular shaky-cam gimmick in favor of fluid, choreographed—dare I say, balletic?—action sequences. Not since the glory days of John Woo has brutality looked so viscerally beautiful. And speaking of brutal, this flick earns its R-rating with a triple-digit body-count, with a significant percentage of the targets receiving point-blank, blood-splattering headshots. My inner gore-hound gleefully appreciated the carnage. I may or may not have hollered, “Hell yeah!” a time or two in the theater. The old lady sitting next to me did not approve…

The mysterious world of the Continental, part of the reason the original John Wick was so entertaining, is expanded upon, which is something I think we all craved. That said, it is taken to ludicrous extremes, with every other person on the street—from panhandlers to pedestrians—revealed to be part of this shadowy underworld. But it’s all done quite niftily, with tongue-in-cheek panache. And speaking of ludicrous, where can I get one of those Kevlar-lined suitcoats that stops bullets better than Superman’s cape?

Keanu Reeves reinforces his reputation as one of the best action heroes of the decade with a straight-faced, taciturn, and totally killer (no pun intended) performance. If you’ve seen any of his training videos on YouTube, you know he fully invests himself in this role and it shows on the screen. You believe this guy could actually kill three men in a bar with a pencil. And while there’s no dead puppy this time to provide us an emotional anchor, the movie does briefly (for about all of three heartbeats) pause to reminisce about Wick’s deceased wife, reminding us that the man is, indeed, human.

Bottom line, for fans of the guns ‘n’ guts cinema, this is a near-perfect film, with a staggering kill-count, slick direction, eye-popping cinematography, deadpan humor, and bundles of badassery (is that a word?). Yeah, I’m thinking John Wick is back, and action junkies are all the better for it.

My Top 10 Favorite Action Movies

Let’s get one thing straight—this is not a list of the top 10 action flicks I think are the best, it’s a list of my top 10 favorite action flicks. And yes, there is a difference. I freely admit that action classics like Lethal Weapon, Terminator 2, and Raiders of the Lost Ark are technically superior to many of the movies on this list, but I’m just compiling a rundown of my personal faves, the action bonanzas I come back to again and again, the ones that put a big ol’ grin on my ugly mug each and every time. So, without further ado and in no particular order, here they are:


John Wick (2014)—this slick action flick exploded from out of nowhere and wowed pretty much everyone I talk to … which, admittedly, is only 3 or 4 people. With a bare bones “you killed my dog, prepare to die” plot, a cool-ass trigger-puller for a protagonist, and smoothly choreographed “gun-fu,” this film delivers everything action junkies crave.

Die Hard (1988)—really, is there anything else that can be written about this classic? Until the day I die, I will probably never bear witness to a better action film. The movie by which all other action movies are judged. Yippee-ki-ay, indeed.

The Killer (1989)—back in the day, nobody merged melodrama with poetically-stylish violence better than director John Woo. Chow Yun Fat was the epitome of Hong Kong cool and the two-fisted, slow-motion gun-play delivered the bloody goods. The climactic shootout in the church is killer in every way.

Bad Boys II (2003)—most action cinema junkies will think I’m smoking crack including this bad boy (uh, pun intended) on this list, but it just pushes all the right buttons (or rather, pulls all the right triggers) for me. The perfect switch-off-your-brain-and-and-enjoy-the-insanity popcorn flick. Yep, it’s loud and dumb and non-PC and slathered in that Michael Bay aesthetic and I love every second of it. (OK, maybe not the stupid rat sex scene.)

The Crow (1994)—true love never dies, but sometimes, just sometimes, it comes back from the dead to kick some evildoer ass. With a breakout performance by the late Brandon Lee and the Gothic direction of Alex Proyas, this midnight-black revenge actioner deserves its cult classic status.

Rambo (2008)—John Rambo returns to the silver screen and kicks bad guy butt in gloriously bloody fashion. ‘Nuff said.

Hard Target (1993)—Hong Kong action maestro John Woo brought all this trademarks—copious slo-mo, double-fisted guns, white doves, etc.—for his first foray into Hollywood and applied them to a Van Damme film. The result? Awesomeness. And the best mullet to ever grace the action genre.

Taken (2008)—some fathers buy their daughters a pony to show their affection. Other fathers use their particular set of skills to rescue them from sex slave traffickers. Liam Neeson is a badass daddy in this surprise action hit. Forget the neutered PG-13 version and go straight for the uncut edition. You’ll thank me later.

Robocop (1987)—I still remember all the hubbub about how violent this movie was when it came out. But the theatrical version ain’t got nothing on the X-rated (it would be NC-17 nowadays) brutality of the uncut edition. “Guns, guns, guns!” And plenty of guts.

Road House (1989)—Patrick Swayze was never cooler than his starring role in this underrated fisticuffs flick. “Pain don’t hurt,” he says at one point, and you know what else don’t hurt? Watching this movie—or any of the movies on this list—over and over again.

The Assassin's Prayer Revised Edition Now Available

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I can hear it now (because some have already asked)—a revised edition of a 3 year-old book? Why bother? Surely you could find something better to do with your time, like clean the fish tank or organize your sock drawer.

Traditional wisdom tells authors to never look back, to release their novels into the wild and move on to the next one. Traditional wisdom says tinkering with a previously-published manuscript wastes time better served working on a new project. And traditional wisdom is right … except when it’s not.

Simply put, this was an itch I had to scratch, an itch that kept me from giving new projects my full attention. Until I went back and revisited/revised The Assassin’s Prayer, I wouldn’t be able to really buckle down on a new book. (Or books, actually—Warlock #1: Autofire Blitz and Chunks of Hell: A Horror Anthology. But we’ll talk about those at another time.)

Call me a perfectionist (not that my novel, or anyone’s novel for that matter, is perfect) or accuse me of OCD—I won’t deny either charge—but the fact that I knew I could improve The Assassin’s Prayer gnawed at me. Sure, the book sold like weed at Woodstock when it was first released, but reader feedback and reviews made it clear there were some issues that could easily be remedied with some tidying up of the narrative. It wouldn’t take much effort to make the book better, so why not do so?

Make no mistake, we’re not talking a major overhaul here. For example, a decent chunk of readers dislike, despise, or downright loathe the ending of the novel, but I refuse to change that, even though doing so would probably make the book more commercially viable. (That either makes me a stubborn fool or a damn fool …you decide.)

No, pretty much all I did was trim some of the melancholy fat from my main character’s—Travis Kain—angst. You see, when I set out to write The Assassin’s Prayer, I was determined to give Kain greater emotional depth than the typical action hero (or in this case, antihero), so he’s a bit of a grumpy bastard with more than his fair share of baggage. As some reviewers noted, (in the original version) Kain spent too much time crying in his whiskey.

In this revised edition, those kind of “emo assassin” (to borrow a phrase from my buddy Jack Badelaire) scenes have been scaled back. What used to be a paragraph of internal torment is now just a sentence or two. The story moves faster and Kain—while hardly a sunshine and roses kind of guy—is less sullen and morose. Heck, I think I even let him crack a joke or two this time.

Listen, despite a streamlined narrative and a spiffy new cover, I don’t expect sales to skyrocket, but that’s not why I revamped the book. I revamped it for me, to exorcise that whiny, nagging voice in the back of my brain that kept whispering, “You can make it better.” Because sometimes the only way to make your demons shut the hell up is to do what they tell you.

BOOK REVIEW--Drifter #1: Savage by Jake Henry

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Truth be told, I’m actually not a big fan of westerns, save for those written back in the ‘70s and ‘80s by the so-called Piccadilly Cowboys, a pint-drinking pack of British authors who took the American western formula and turned it on its head by casting antiheroes as the protagonists instead of white-hat good guys and reveling in the kind of graphic violence usually reserved for splatter-punk horror. Alas, those kind of ultra-violent westerns have seemingly gone out of style, much like dueling with pistols and disco, so I rarely pay attention to new western series when they debut, generally finding them too stale and sterilized for my liking.

But when Piccadilly Publishing announced they were releasing a brand new hard-hitting action-western series, my literary taste buds started salivating like a starving wolf eyeballing a crippled lamb. The fact that it was being put out by Piccadilly Publishing (named after those aforementioned Piccadilly Cowboys), the cool cover art, the fact that they were advertising it as a violent series … all these factors combined to jack my hopes higher than the tallest cactus in Texas that at long last a new western would capture the flavor of those old Piccadilly Cowboy books.

I hoped Drifter would be in the same vein as Edge, Breed, Steele, Claw, Jubal Cade, etc. and I must confess to a smidgen of disappointment when I started reading and realized that Drifter lacks the explicit violence of those old series. It's not tame by any stretch of the imagination—folks are killed and blood is spilled, and the killin’ and spillin’ happen fairly frequently—but it does not go for the gore with gusto. So, for better or worse (depending on your personal proclivities), it’s not a Piccadilly Cowboy styled western. That said, you most definitely will not mistake Drifter for a Louis L'Amour or Zane Grey western either. It’s much more violent than that, thank the god of six-guns, even if that violence isn’t spelled out in gruesome detail.

Paperback cover

The best thing about Drifter is that the story moves with the speed of a rattlesnake strike, the plot stripped down to the bare-bone essentials like a vulture-picked carcass. No lofty themes. Nary a whiff of pretentiousness. No interest in naval gazing. A man tangles with a pack of mangy cutthroats. Pack of mangy cutthroats rape and slaughter man's wife. Man vows revenge, hunts down the pack of mangy cutthroats, and blows them all to Hell. End of story. (Hopefully I didn’t need to post a spoiler alert…)

As you can tell, it’s a classic tale that’s been told a thousand times before, but that doesn’t dull its entertainment value. Much like fine whiskey and voluptuous women, there is just something comforting about reading a traditional story-line told with surefooted skill and that’s what author Brent Towns (writing as Jake Henry) brings to the table. His style is deceptively simple, eschewing fancy words and purple prose in favor of lean, mean writing. He never uses twelve words when ten will do just fine, trimming all the fat and letting nothing stand in the way of all the gun-blazing action.

Bottom line, Drifter #1: "Savage" is packed with hot bullets and cold vengeance, so action-western fans should gobble it up. If you glance at your bookshelf and see titles like Slocum, Longarm, and Gunsmith sitting there in all their dog-eared, paper-backed glory, then you should definitely give Drifter a shot.

BOOK REVIEW--Hawker #1: "Florida Firefight" by Carl Ramm

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Written way back in '84 under the Carl Ramm moniker (gotta love those house names) but actually penned by Randy Wayne White, bestselling author of the Doc Ford series, this kickoff to the Hawker action-adventure series featured some of the better prose you'll find in the genre, but for some reason failed to grab me. I have the same problem with Glocks; I recognize that they’re a quality firearm, but they’re just not a good fit for me. But I digress…

After a slick opening sequence that finds Hawker's wings clipped due to political shenanigans, he turns in his badge and becomes a vigilante. Because in these kinds of books, that’s just what disgraced ex-cops do. (As a side note, that would make an awesome Geico commercial: “If you’re a disgraced ex-cop in the ‘80s, you become a vigilante. It’s what you do.”) In other words, this is your standard-issue men's action-adventure origin plot.


White displays his authorial skills by ratcheting up the tension during the early scenes as well as providing greater character depth than was typically found in '80s action paperbacks. The problem is, he spends a little too much time establishing characters, giving the impression that he enjoys creating characters more than he enjoys creating action. Nothing wrong with that … except that this is an action novel, not a character-driven drama.


New and not improved cover.

The 2nd act of “Florida Firefight” is the main culprit of this misstep, going light on the action and trading full-auto fury for setting, characters, and plot twists. Again, all of it is well-written, but aside from a few fisticuffs, not much happens in the action department (which last time I checked is the main reason we read this stuff) until the climatic assault against the dastardly drug dealers.

Here’s where the firepower finally comes out to play, but truth be told, even the finale is a bit lackluster. The exception is the scuba tank kill, which resulted in an awesome (if a bit too abrupt) death for one of the villains. It’s definitely one of those Who comes up with this shit? moments. But as a whole, the book is basically a well-written but not particularly exciting entry in the action-adventure pantheon.

As this was the early '80s, there is a lack of political correctness, and while that is sometimes refreshing, in this case it's often cringe-worthy, including an AIDS-based insult--from our hero, no less--that will stop you in your tracks and make you do a Did he really just say that? double take. Easy enough to skip past and ignore as merely a sign of the era in which the book originated, but still a bit startling. White also throws in an oral sex scene with laughable dialogue, and not the good kind of laughing. Though I was laughing at how laughable it was, so maybe that was the point.

Frankly, I wanted to like Hawker more than I actually did. The series is often lauded among action-adventure aficionados as one of the premium examples of the genre. With its skillful prose, detailed setting (the Florida locale is described so perfectly that you’ll probably get a sunburn), and above-average (for the genre) characterization, it's not hard to see why it garners such praise. That said, for me, it needed a little more action to earn a place in the upper echelon.

Bottom line, I don't regret reading Hawker #1, but if I had the 2nd book in my hand and you took it away from me, I wouldn't fight you to get it back. Some action novels are damn good. Some action novels are bad. Some are so bad they’re good. And then some, like "Florida Firefight," are neither good nor bad … and action mediocrity has just never been my thing.

INTERVIEW: Tim Miller

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I originally wanted to get this interview posted before Halloween, but shit happens. And speaking of that, lots of bad shit happens to the unfortunate people/victims/meat-sacks who populate Tim Miller’s books. Ever since Hell, Texas put him on the extreme horror map, Miller has been carving out his bloody niche in horror’s redheaded stepchild of a subgenre. One of the nicest authors I’ve ever had the pleasure of discoursing with, Tim recently took the time to answer some questions and made one thing perfectly clear—Stephen King is not extreme.

MARK: Thanks for stopping by Guns ‘N’ Guts, Tim. Speaking of guts, your novels have buckets of ‘em. Since you did not start out writing extreme horror, what attracted you to that particular subgenre? And yes, “lack of a gag reflex” is a perfectly acceptable answer.

TIM: I had just always read that heavy gore was against the “rules” of writing horror. Not sure who made up those rules, but I stumbled across Ed Lee and Jack Ketchum and loved it. So I decided to try it for myself and it was a blast.

MARK: Far as I’m concerned, the rule-breakers often make the best horror writers. What is your goal when writing an extreme horror story? Besides inducing spontaneous projectile vomiting.

TIM: I always think of some kind of story. Unlike a lot of extreme stuff, the gore for me is just window dressing. I want to have a compelling story with fun characters and put them in the worst situations I can think of. If I can not only repulse the reader but make them feel sympathetic to my villain and elicit an emotional reaction on different levels—good or bad—then I feel I did my job.

MARK: Are there other genres besides horror that you would like to take a shot at someday? You know, will we ever see a Tim Miller erotica novel? (And no, the skinned-and-raped scene from Hell, Texas does not count as erotica.)

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TIM: Well, my stories all border on some level of dark erotica, especially Dollhouse. I’ve toyed with the idea before. I’ve done a sci-fi story and a young adult book already. So if I get an idea, I’m cool with running with it.

MARK: I tried to run with something once, but my mom made me put down the chainsaw. Is there a certain author (or authors) that you draw inspiration from?

TIM: When I first read Jack Ketchum, he’s the reason I decided to do extreme horror. Depraved by Bryan Smith challenged me to write Hell, Texas. 

MARK: No doubt about it, Depraved is a deranged classic of the genre. OK, if someone put a shotgun to the back of your melon and told you to gouge out one of your eyes using only your fingers or sever your tongue using only your teeth or else they would splatter your brains, which would you choose?

TIM: I’d probably just opt for the shotgun, LOL.

MARK: Agony avoidance trumps survival instinct, eh? All right, back to more serious questions. What do you consider the most important ingredient in extreme horror: plot, characters, or gore?

TIM: I think characters. I try to make them as fun and colorful as possible. All of those things play a role, and often my stories are plot driven. The characters reacting to things around them. But you can’t make it the same type of reactions in every story.

MARK: What is the single most important piece of advice you would give to an author aspiring to find success in the extreme horror genre? (Other than write romance instead.)

TIM: I’d say to read a lot of extreme authors. I know so many who want to be extreme but they read Stephen King and Edgar Allen Poe. Those are brilliant authors, but they are not extreme. If you want to know what audiences want, you need to read what they are reading.

MARK: Good advice. Read some Jack Ketchum, Ed Lee, Wrath James White. And of course, some Tim Miller. What do you think is the single worst mistake new authors make?

TIM: I’ve noticed a trend the last couple years of new authors feeling like they need to latch on to someone with a name. Or who they think has a name. I guess they do so thinking those guys will somehow propel them to fame. But all it does is water down your own brand and forever binds you to that author’s shadow. I’ve seen many do this with a lot of different well known authors. I have a lot of author friends at various levels of the spectrum, but I don’t try to cling to any of them to further myself. I just don’t see how that can work for anyone. Be your own person.

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MARK: Good advice for anything in life, not just writing. Anyone who peruses your Facebook Page on a regular basis will see that the cheese grater scene from Return to Hell Texas is perhaps your most infamous torture sequence. Do you have a particularly nasty scene that rates as your personal favorite? (I should probably also ask you where you come up with this stuff, but I’m too afraid.)

TIM: I really liked the scene with Buzz from Return to Hell Texas. I was giggling the whole time I wrote it, but then I outdid myself with the cheese grater scene later, so everyone seems to forget that one. In Rape Van, I coined the phrase “Chocolate Creampie,” so use your imagination on that one. Kinda proud of that.

MARK: Well, I’m not sure what your version of a Chocolate Creampie is, but I’m guessing we won’t find it in the snack aisle next to the Twinkies. Now, Halloween season recently whipped by like a witch on a turbocharged broomstick and while it’s utterly cliché to ask, I’m going to do it anyway—what’s your favorite horror movie?

TIM: My most inspirational movie has been the 1974 Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

MARK: A classic that I still can’t believe garnered a PG rating … though if I’m being honest, I prefer the remake, even though it lacks the raw, visceral grit of the original. Anyway, books (and films like your books) have been crassly labeled by critics as “torture porn.” What’s your opinion of that particular term and do you object to having that label slapped on your writing?

TIM: I don’t care for that term personally, though I use it myself to describe it to someone who may not be familiar. To me, torture porn means there is no story at all and nothing happening other than some guy torturing his victim with nothing else going on. I guess that is what some people take away from my stories but if you look past the gore there is something being said.

MARK: You write prolifically, cranking out novels on what seems like a monthly basis. How do you keep up that frenetic pace? Copious amounts of Red Bull and Mountain Dew?

TIM: I just set a goal to write 1000-3000 words per day. My books are usually 30-35K so in about 4-6 weeks I can have a new title finished. I use Grammarly editing software, then have two friends who go over and help me clean it up before its ready to publish.

MARK: I had friends once. Then they read my books, LOL. Let’s wrap this up by having you tell us what’s next on your publishing agenda.

TIM: Rape Van went live on November 4th. Then in December I have the sequel to my book Hacked—called Hacked Again—being released. For 2017, I’ve got several stories already lined up and in the works.

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BOOK REVIEW: The Country Club by Tim Miller

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Confession time: I am freaked out by the thought of being tortured. Spiders, clowns, nude Hillary Clinton photos … none of these things make me shiver. But the thought of being strapped down and unable to move while some sick psycho scoops out my eyeballs with a rusty spoon … yeah, that kind of nastiness crawls right under my skin and stays there. So a movie like Hostel hits the right horror notes for me.

The same thing applies when reading Tim Miller’s The Country Club, because there is no dodging the fact that the book borrows heavily from Hostel. It’s not the soulless rip-off that some critics have claimed, but the word “homage” can definitely be applied. But hey, who cares? Nothing new under the sun and all that jazz, right? What really matters is whether or not the story entertains and as long as you count yourself among the extreme horror demographic, the answer is an unequivocal yes.

What this book does better than the film that seems to have inspired it is get right down to the bloody business. While Hostel took an eternity plus an eon to deliver the good stuff, The Country Club ain’t got time for that. It hits the ground full-throttle, no foreplay, no mucking about—we came here for literary torture-porn and, the gods of gore bless him, that’s what Miller gives us without any teasing around the proverbial bush. No need to slog through 300 pages of dull filler before someone gets their molars power-drilled sans Novocain.

Miller puts his stripped down, no frills, matter-of-fact style to good use here as he details the strap-'em-down-and-make-'em-bleed torments of the titular club. Scalping, cannibalism, starving rats, dismemberment, power sander mayhem … the plethora of punishments dished out by the wealthy clients will make you cringe. In fact, one scene in particular, involving a newborn baby, arguably goes too far (Miller admits to receiving mega hate mail regarding this sequence) and may justifiably be a gag-inducing deal-breaker for some readers. Not since the infant scene in JF Gonzalez’s Survivor has a horror scene hit me this hard.

That said, this is extreme horror, and lines are meant to be crossed, taboos violated, good taste thrown out the window along with the contents of the barf bucket. Reading an extreme horror novel and then complaining about disgusting stuff is like picking up a Dr. Seuss book and complaining that it rhymes. In other words, you should know what to expect and if you pick up a Tim Miller novel expecting something tame, prepare to have your expectations effed up seven ways from Sunday.

Listen, Miller ain't for everybody. Heck, some would say he shouldn’t be for anybody. But if you can handle it raw and rough, he may just put a big ol' smile on your face ... or across your throat. You don’t need to have guts to read Tim Miller … he’ll provide them for you.