Eddie Muller
Author of Tab Hunter Confidential: The Making of a Movie Star
About the Author
Image credit: By Joe Mabel - photo by Joe Mabel, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=866091
Series
Works by Eddie Muller
The art of noir : the posters and graphics from the classic era of film noir (2002) 113 copies, 1 review
Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir (Revised and Expanded Edition) (Turner Classic Movies) (2021) 105 copies, 3 reviews
Dark City Dames: The Women Who Defined Film Noir (Revised and Expanded Edition) (Turner Classic Movies) (2025) 36 copies, 3 reviews
NOIR CITY Magazine #37 4 copies
Noir City Annual No. 16 3 copies
Noir City Annual No. 15 3 copies
NOIR CITY Magazine 40 2 copies
Noir City, No. 33, 2021 2 copies
Noir City Sentinel. Annual #1 The Best of the Film Noir Foundation Newsletter 2006-2008 (2009) 2 copies
NOIR CITY Magazine 42 2 copies
NOIR CITY Magazine 41 2 copies
NOIR CITY Magazine 45 1 copy
NOIR CITY Magazine 39 1 copy
NOIR CITY Magazine 43 1 copy
Noir City Sentinel. Annual #1 The Best of the Film Noir Foundation Newsletter 2006-2008 (2009) 1 copy
NOIR CITY Magazine #38 1 copy
NOIR CITY Magazine #1 1 copy
Associated Works
Jewish Noir: Contemporary Tales of Crime and Other Dark Deeds (2015) — Contributor — 49 copies, 1 review
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Birthdate
- 1958-10-15
- Gender
- male
- Education
- San Francisco Art Institute
- Occupations
- film critic
television host
novelist
journalist - Organizations
- Film Noir Foundation
- Short biography
- Eddie Muller is a film critic and writer, specializing in film noir. James Ellroy has called him "The Czar of Noir."
Muller is the founder and president of the Film Noir Foundation. He serves as the host and introducer of Turner Classic Movies's weekly Noir Alley movie series, and is co-programmer of the San Francisco Noir City Film Festival. He also provides wry commentary tracks for Fox's film noir series of DVDs.
His period crime novel The Distance (2002) was named the Best First Novel of the Year by the Private Eye Writers of America. - Nationality
- USA
- Places of residence
- San Francisco, California, USA
- Associated Place (for map)
- California, USA
Members
Reviews
Dark City Dames: The Women Who Defined Film Noir (Revised and Expanded Edition) (Turner Classic Movies) by Eddie Muller
I purchased this for the lush photographs and a few tidbits I might not have known from decades of being a film buff, and the newer yet smaller sections on the lovely Gail Russell and Ella Raines, a couple of favorites. Though Raines is well established in noir films, Russell only had a couple, and like a few others Muller popped in here, her connection to the history of noir is much more tenuous.
Because he set his perimeters for the initial version of this book on the women of noir still show more living, and who would agree to be interviewed by him, I didn’t think it was worth getting at the time. The addition in the revised edition of Raines and Russell, a couple of others, finally swayed me to get it, despite misgivings. I usually have an aversion to TCM books. To most serious film buffs they seem pretty vanilla, focusing on the popular and expected, while throwing in some that should not be included. The TCM book on famous screen couples for example, left out William Powell and Kay Francis, who not only made a slew of films together in which they had great chemistry, but produced some enduring film classics, such as One Way Passage and Jewel Robbery.
The device of the early life and careers, and then the aged reflections by the women interviewed post-stardom and Hollywood was a good idea, except that Muller seems incapable of stepping back and holding any of the actresses accountable for some of the issues in their lives, both during their careers and in their private lives afterward. There is certainly the case to be made that some of these studio heads, producers and directors used, abused, and took advantage of them. Howard Hughes’ well documented curtailing of Jane Greer’s career for example, and some other actresses experiences are well known. They shouldn’t get a free pass.
A free pass however appears to be what Muller gives any female actress who appeared in what came to be known as noir later on; it’s clear no one knew they were creating the genre as they went along, especially the actresses — Claire Trevor’s comments are quite telling. Evelyn Keyes, though hardly the only one, is a perfect example of Muller’s blinders. Keyes’ cavalier morals and suspect judgement make for tawdry reading. But Muller glosses over it in matter-of-fact fashion; and no, it’s not a journalistic style, because he takes issue when, and only when, he can slam a male figure, such as a studio head, a producer, a cheating or abusive husband. I got the feeling that had the notorious Barbara Payton been included here — look her up if you don’t know — Muller would have blamed her trashy life on Franchot Tone, or Tom Neal, while absolving Payton of any accountability.
Muller writes about these ladies — some of them were ladies, some of them weren’t — as though he’s swallowed some radical feminist handbook that relegates all serious criticism to men and a patriarchy, while never-ever holding any of the women truly accountable for their own poor judgement, suspect morals, and bad choices that had nothing whatsoever to do with the studios or the people for whom these actresses worked. In fact, it is clear in a few cases for serious film buffs, that it was the personality and pathology of some of these women that made them gravitate toward acting, and stardom. It gave them cover for their behavior, a world of sleaze in which they could thrive and not be viewed by the same standards as everyone else.
It’s wonderful to hear in Jane Greer’s own words how much she loved working with Robert Mitchum, with whom she became pals. Greer’s section was possibly the most enjoyable for me. She had no desire to play star all those years later. There are great stories about William Bendix in Greer’s section, and one about Gloria Grahame, her neighbor. But that highlights the problem throughout Dark City Dames; there are nice tidbits in nearly all the profiles, but tidbits are not enough to overcome how slanted this is, how anti-male it seems.
Dark City Dames boasts some truly stunning photographs of Audrey Totter, Jane Greer, Marie Windsor, Evelyn Keyes, Coleen Gray, Ann Savage, Joan Bennet, Rhonda Fleming, Marsha Hunt, Ella Raines, Ruth Roman, Jan Sterling, Claire Trevor, Helen Walker. The loveliest photograph is perhaps the one of Gail Russell on page 242, which seems to capture both her beauty and her tortured shyness. Then on page 246 there is another, with Russell happy and smiling, a double-shot because we get her happy reflection in the mirror in this plush photo as well. Along with Veronica Lake and Rita Hayworth, Gail Russell was totally unsuitable for the film industry, which prevented happiness rather than helped bring it about. Her section was sad and haunting, and I enjoyed it, and the section on Ella Raines.
The endpapers of this coffee-table size book, front and back, are filled with depictions of movie posters. When the dust jacket is removed, readers discover a portrait of Audrey Totter on the front, one of Jane Greer on the back. Dark City Dames is lush, but Muller’s slanted take, the get-out-of-jail Free card he gives any woman he likes for her actions and the resulting fallout, while beating males over the head whenever he gets the chance to take a shot, made the text annoying. And if Muller brought up the Red Scare one more time, for absolutely no reason, and with no perspective, I was gonna puke.
The innumerable women who should be here but are conspicuously missing, and the “selected” criticism reserved for only the studio system and males, keep this film book from being a really good one. It has zero perspective, nor is it evenhanded. It’s difficult to rate, because there is some good stuff here at times, despite Muller, and the photographs are delicious, but it took me forever to get through this, when normally I’d devour something of this kind. The bottom line is that I’d never give this as a gift to anyone, and perhaps that says it all… show less
Because he set his perimeters for the initial version of this book on the women of noir still show more living, and who would agree to be interviewed by him, I didn’t think it was worth getting at the time. The addition in the revised edition of Raines and Russell, a couple of others, finally swayed me to get it, despite misgivings. I usually have an aversion to TCM books. To most serious film buffs they seem pretty vanilla, focusing on the popular and expected, while throwing in some that should not be included. The TCM book on famous screen couples for example, left out William Powell and Kay Francis, who not only made a slew of films together in which they had great chemistry, but produced some enduring film classics, such as One Way Passage and Jewel Robbery.
The device of the early life and careers, and then the aged reflections by the women interviewed post-stardom and Hollywood was a good idea, except that Muller seems incapable of stepping back and holding any of the actresses accountable for some of the issues in their lives, both during their careers and in their private lives afterward. There is certainly the case to be made that some of these studio heads, producers and directors used, abused, and took advantage of them. Howard Hughes’ well documented curtailing of Jane Greer’s career for example, and some other actresses experiences are well known. They shouldn’t get a free pass.
A free pass however appears to be what Muller gives any female actress who appeared in what came to be known as noir later on; it’s clear no one knew they were creating the genre as they went along, especially the actresses — Claire Trevor’s comments are quite telling. Evelyn Keyes, though hardly the only one, is a perfect example of Muller’s blinders. Keyes’ cavalier morals and suspect judgement make for tawdry reading. But Muller glosses over it in matter-of-fact fashion; and no, it’s not a journalistic style, because he takes issue when, and only when, he can slam a male figure, such as a studio head, a producer, a cheating or abusive husband. I got the feeling that had the notorious Barbara Payton been included here — look her up if you don’t know — Muller would have blamed her trashy life on Franchot Tone, or Tom Neal, while absolving Payton of any accountability.
Muller writes about these ladies — some of them were ladies, some of them weren’t — as though he’s swallowed some radical feminist handbook that relegates all serious criticism to men and a patriarchy, while never-ever holding any of the women truly accountable for their own poor judgement, suspect morals, and bad choices that had nothing whatsoever to do with the studios or the people for whom these actresses worked. In fact, it is clear in a few cases for serious film buffs, that it was the personality and pathology of some of these women that made them gravitate toward acting, and stardom. It gave them cover for their behavior, a world of sleaze in which they could thrive and not be viewed by the same standards as everyone else.
It’s wonderful to hear in Jane Greer’s own words how much she loved working with Robert Mitchum, with whom she became pals. Greer’s section was possibly the most enjoyable for me. She had no desire to play star all those years later. There are great stories about William Bendix in Greer’s section, and one about Gloria Grahame, her neighbor. But that highlights the problem throughout Dark City Dames; there are nice tidbits in nearly all the profiles, but tidbits are not enough to overcome how slanted this is, how anti-male it seems.
Dark City Dames boasts some truly stunning photographs of Audrey Totter, Jane Greer, Marie Windsor, Evelyn Keyes, Coleen Gray, Ann Savage, Joan Bennet, Rhonda Fleming, Marsha Hunt, Ella Raines, Ruth Roman, Jan Sterling, Claire Trevor, Helen Walker. The loveliest photograph is perhaps the one of Gail Russell on page 242, which seems to capture both her beauty and her tortured shyness. Then on page 246 there is another, with Russell happy and smiling, a double-shot because we get her happy reflection in the mirror in this plush photo as well. Along with Veronica Lake and Rita Hayworth, Gail Russell was totally unsuitable for the film industry, which prevented happiness rather than helped bring it about. Her section was sad and haunting, and I enjoyed it, and the section on Ella Raines.
The endpapers of this coffee-table size book, front and back, are filled with depictions of movie posters. When the dust jacket is removed, readers discover a portrait of Audrey Totter on the front, one of Jane Greer on the back. Dark City Dames is lush, but Muller’s slanted take, the get-out-of-jail Free card he gives any woman he likes for her actions and the resulting fallout, while beating males over the head whenever he gets the chance to take a shot, made the text annoying. And if Muller brought up the Red Scare one more time, for absolutely no reason, and with no perspective, I was gonna puke.
The innumerable women who should be here but are conspicuously missing, and the “selected” criticism reserved for only the studio system and males, keep this film book from being a really good one. It has zero perspective, nor is it evenhanded. It’s difficult to rate, because there is some good stuff here at times, despite Muller, and the photographs are delicious, but it took me forever to get through this, when normally I’d devour something of this kind. The bottom line is that I’d never give this as a gift to anyone, and perhaps that says it all… show less
Eddie Muller hits the nail on the head with his books. I adore Noir Bar with all the antidotes, pictures, and recipes. The revised version of Dark City Dames presents great stories and forces me to revisit Noir Alley films. Eddie presents fabulous tidbits to every Noir Alley movie, and I watch his TCM slot just to hear what he says. Dark City Dames has amazing pictures and a look 40-50 years later at these remarkable women of Noir film. Eddie shows that all does not glitter with gold and show more fame. These women fought countless battles in a career that labeled women as meat and not individuals equal to their male counterpoints. The only downside to the book remains the weight. Due to the photographs, a heavier weight of paper was utilized, which added weight to the book. show less
I don't follow boxing, but I like reading about it. There is an inherent drama in sports, especially in boxing, that is difficult to resist. Two opponents engaged in a struggle against each other with no one to aid them, nothing but themselves to rely on. Boxing used to be something everyone in American followed, at least a little bit. At one time it was impossible to avoid. It's still a popular sport, but not like it was in the 1940's when newspapers featured daily boxing columns in their show more sports pages.
The Distance is a noir novel, not quite a mystery, but its noir is built on nostalgia. Throughout the book there is a longing for the old days, when there was a local boxing scene, when San Francisco had seven daily papers, when it was possible for someone with just a high school diploma and enough gumption to earn a daily column in the sports pages. Billy Nichols, the narrator of The Distance, writes a daily boxing column for the San Francisco Inquirer circa 1948. The regional boxing scene is on its last legs, about to be done in by television and it's national coverage.
Late one night Billy Nichols gets a call from boxer Hank Escanlante. Escalante, a decent fighter and a good guy, has gotten into an argument with his manager Gig Liardi. The argument ended with a single punch that dropped Liardi against a table killing him. Nichols believes Escalante is innocent of murder so he helps the fighter dispose of Liardi's body. Afterwards, Nichols returns to his job at the paper and his troubled marriage while Escalante continues his struggle to get a shot at a decent fight, one that will give him a career that can support his wife and children. Of course the body is discovered, the police become involved, things turn out to be much more complicated than Nichols believed they were. Drama ensues.
It's difficult to assign The Distance a genre. It was marketed as a detective fiction, even won several awards in this category, but there is no detective in the novel. The narrator is involved in a crime but he doesn't solve it. In fact, his goal is to find a way to get away with it. The Distance is set in the world of boxing, but there is too little actual boxing to call the book a sports novel. Only one fight is described in detail, and the day to day reality of boxing plays only a small part compared to the fiction of F.X. Toole who wrote "Million Dollar Baby." The Distance is close to being a newspaper novel, but again the hero spends too little time at the paper. The historical time and setting figure strongly in the novel, enough to call it historical fiction, but I'm not sure the late 1940's is historical enough to fit into this genre. But whatever it is, The Distance is a fine read. One that I enjoyed. There is a second Billy Nichols book called Shadow Boxer that I'll have to add to my TBR stack. show less
The Distance is a noir novel, not quite a mystery, but its noir is built on nostalgia. Throughout the book there is a longing for the old days, when there was a local boxing scene, when San Francisco had seven daily papers, when it was possible for someone with just a high school diploma and enough gumption to earn a daily column in the sports pages. Billy Nichols, the narrator of The Distance, writes a daily boxing column for the San Francisco Inquirer circa 1948. The regional boxing scene is on its last legs, about to be done in by television and it's national coverage.
Late one night Billy Nichols gets a call from boxer Hank Escanlante. Escalante, a decent fighter and a good guy, has gotten into an argument with his manager Gig Liardi. The argument ended with a single punch that dropped Liardi against a table killing him. Nichols believes Escalante is innocent of murder so he helps the fighter dispose of Liardi's body. Afterwards, Nichols returns to his job at the paper and his troubled marriage while Escalante continues his struggle to get a shot at a decent fight, one that will give him a career that can support his wife and children. Of course the body is discovered, the police become involved, things turn out to be much more complicated than Nichols believed they were. Drama ensues.
It's difficult to assign The Distance a genre. It was marketed as a detective fiction, even won several awards in this category, but there is no detective in the novel. The narrator is involved in a crime but he doesn't solve it. In fact, his goal is to find a way to get away with it. The Distance is set in the world of boxing, but there is too little actual boxing to call the book a sports novel. Only one fight is described in detail, and the day to day reality of boxing plays only a small part compared to the fiction of F.X. Toole who wrote "Million Dollar Baby." The Distance is close to being a newspaper novel, but again the hero spends too little time at the paper. The historical time and setting figure strongly in the novel, enough to call it historical fiction, but I'm not sure the late 1940's is historical enough to fit into this genre. But whatever it is, The Distance is a fine read. One that I enjoyed. There is a second Billy Nichols book called Shadow Boxer that I'll have to add to my TBR stack. show less
Kid Noir: Kitty Feral and the Case of the Marshmallow Monkey (Turner Classic Movies) by Eddie Muller
First sentence: It's not easy being the only cat detective in this town. Ever since I bungled my biggest case, trouble hounds me.
Premise/plot: Kitty Feral is missing--literally and figuratively--her friend and companion Mitch the Mutt with whom she solves cases. But she's solo on this one. She will be trying to track down what happened to Cora's marshmallow monkey. Can she follow the clues and solve the case?
My thoughts: I LOVED the atmosphere of this one. The narrative is fun, fun, show more super-fun. The illustrations are AWESOME. I think adults will probably pick up on things young readers don't. But that isn't all bad, in my opinion. It just means the narrative is layered. I do think it holds up to multiple readings. I caught things the second time around that I didn't the first time. It is very noir. Chances are most young readers will have little to no familiarity with this genre. show less
Premise/plot: Kitty Feral is missing--literally and figuratively--her friend and companion Mitch the Mutt with whom she solves cases. But she's solo on this one. She will be trying to track down what happened to Cora's marshmallow monkey. Can she follow the clues and solve the case?
My thoughts: I LOVED the atmosphere of this one. The narrative is fun, fun, show more super-fun. The illustrations are AWESOME. I think adults will probably pick up on things young readers don't. But that isn't all bad, in my opinion. It just means the narrative is layered. I do think it holds up to multiple readings. I caught things the second time around that I didn't the first time. It is very noir. Chances are most young readers will have little to no familiarity with this genre. show less
Awards
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Associated Authors
Statistics
- Works
- 51
- Also by
- 5
- Members
- 1,368
- Popularity
- #18,795
- Rating
- 4.0
- Reviews
- 45
- ISBNs
- 53
- Languages
- 2
- Favorited
- 3
