Mark McKenna – författare

This book provides an examination of Big Wednesday as an unconventional film that employs a mythic sensibility in its representation of the loss of youth and young manhood.Critically and commercially unsuccessful on its original release, the coming-of-age, surf drama Big Wednesday (1978), has undergone a significant reappraisal. It is now considered not only an important contribution to youth cinema, but also the most important film that John Milius ever made. Over six chapters, the book considers questions of authorship, commerce, genre, stardom, and myth, and explores how these ideas intersect with the film’s status as a significant youth movie and collectively how these ideas have contributed to its recent critical rehabilitation. In doing so, the book also provides a much-needed reassessment of an important and overlooked entry in the New Hollywood canon.Exploring Big Wednesday’s subsequent resonance and relevance, this unique study will appeal to students and scholars in film studies, popular culture studies, youth studies, sociology, and media studies.

This book explores horror film franchising from a broad range of interdisciplinary perspectives and considers the horror film’s role in the history of franchising and serial fiction.Comprising 12 chapters written by established and emerging scholars in the field, Horror Franchise Cinema redresses critical neglect toward horror film franchising by discussing the forces and factors governing its development across historical and contemporary terrain while also examining text and reception practices. Offering an introduction to the history of horror franchising, the chapters also examine key texts including Universal Studio monster films, Blumhouse production films, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Alien, I Spit on Your Grave, Let the Right One In, Italian zombie films, anthology films, and virtual reality.A significant contribution to studies of horror cinema and film/media franchising from the 1930s to the present day, this book will be of interest to students and scholars of film studies, media and cultural studies, franchise studies, political economy, audience/reception studies, horror studies, fan studies, genre studies, production cultures, and film histories.

The idea of an Australian republic has existed from the moment the First Fleet sailed into Sydney Harbour. This book is a comprehensive history of republican thought and activity in Australia and traces republican debate in Australia from 1788. It explains the pivotal role played by republican philosophies in the decades before responsible government was granted to the Australian colonies in 1856 and prior to federation in 1901. Mark McKenna also describes the often erratic appearance of republicanism during the twentieth century, focusing in particular on the period after 1975, when the issue of a republic became a prominent and increasingly fixed term on the political agenda. This book will be essential reading for all those with an interest in political and intellectual history. It calls for a higher level of public debate about the republic and makes an outstanding contribution to this debate itself.

This book explores horror film franchising from a broad range of interdisciplinary perspectives and considers the horror film’s role in the history of franchising and serial fiction.Comprising 12 chapters written by established and emerging scholars in the field, Horror Franchise Cinema redresses critical neglect toward horror film franchising by discussing the forces and factors governing its development across historical and contemporary terrain while also examining text and reception practices. Offering an introduction to the history of horror franchising, the chapters also examine key texts including Universal Studio monster films, Blumhouse production films, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Alien, I Spit on Your Grave, Let the Right One In, Italian zombie films, anthology films, and virtual reality.A significant contribution to studies of horror cinema and film/media franchising from the 1930s to the present day, this book will be of interest to students and scholars of film studies, media and cultural studies, franchise studies, political economy, audience/reception studies, horror studies, fan studies, genre studies, production cultures, and film histories.

This book provides an examination of Big Wednesday as an unconventional film that employs a mythic sensibility in its representation of the loss of youth and young manhood.Critically and commercially unsuccessful on its original release, the coming-of-age, surf drama Big Wednesday (1978), has undergone a significant reappraisal. It is now considered not only an important contribution to youth cinema, but also the most important film that John Milius ever made. Over six chapters, the book considers questions of authorship, commerce, genre, stardom, and myth, and explores how these ideas intersect with the film’s status as a significant youth movie and collectively how these ideas have contributed to its recent critical rehabilitation. In doing so, the book also provides a much-needed reassessment of an important and overlooked entry in the New Hollywood canon.Exploring Big Wednesday’s subsequent resonance and relevance, this unique study will appeal to students and scholars in film studies, popular culture studies, youth studies, sociology, and media studies.

This timely book examines how screen industry development has emerged as a vital strategy for economic and cultural regeneration in England's post-industrial regions.While Bristol, Manchester, and Liverpool have become established creative hubs, this study shifts focus to three underrepresented areas—The Solent and South Hampshire, Stoke-on-Trent and Staffordshire, and Sunderland—that are grappling with decline and persistent underinvestment. Through comparative case studies, the book reveals how these regions are attempting to address these issues by developing screen industry initiatives despite having only limited resources. It analyses how local stakeholders navigate the interplay of infrastructure, governance, cultural capital, and narrative positioning to build creative ecosystems that strengthen cultural identity and promote place-based storytelling.Set against the backdrop of devolution, regional policy failures, and "Levelling Up" rhetoric, this research offers practical insights into how historically excluded areas can challenge established patterns of creative investment concentration. As such, it is essential reading for policymakers, creative professionals, researchers, and students in media studies, cultural policy, regional development, and economic geography, who are interested in place-based cultural regeneration strategies.

The history of the ‘video nasties’ has been recounted many times and the films that caused so much offence have themselves been endlessly examined. However, the industry that gave rise to the category has received scant little attention. Earlier histories have tended to foreground issues of censorship, and as such, offer only glimpses of an under explored industrial history of British video. This book focuses explicitly on an industry that is still portrayed in heavily caricatured terms, that is frequently presented as immoral or corrupt, and that continues to be understood through the rhetoric of the tabloid press, as ‘merchants of menace’.

The history of the ‘video nasties’ has been recounted many times and the films that caused so much offence have themselves been endlessly examined. However, the industry that gave rise to the category has received scant little attention. Earlier histories have tended to foreground issues of censorship, and as such, offer only glimpses of an under explored industrial history of British video. This book focuses explicitly on an industry that is still portrayed in heavily caricatured terms, that is frequently presented as immoral or corrupt, and that continues to be understood through the rhetoric of the tabloid press, as ‘merchants of menace’.

Snuff (1976) occupies a unique place in cinematic history, as the first commerciallysuccessful film to capitalise upon the myth of the ‘snuff’ movie. By blending cinema verité styling with a media moral panic, savvy producer Allan Shackleton’s blending of a long-forgotten exploitation film with a newly filmed bloody, if unconvincing conclusion, only served to consolidate the belief that somewhere, at some time, someone was killed on camera in an attack that was as much about the sexual gratification of the film’s intended audience, as it was about the commercial rewards for those producing the film. In the years since its release, the film has been routinely cited as ‘evidence’ of the snuff movie’s existence, contributing to a cultural history that exists outside of the film. This book explores the production, distribution and exhibition of the film Snuff, alongside that cultural history, considering how a scarcely seen exploitation film contributed to a popular understanding of the snuff movie. It assesses the cultural, cinematic and political legacy of the film and asks whether the established definition ofwhat might constitute a snuff movie, that was defined 45 years ago, is sufficient in an attention economy that is based upon participatory culture.

Snuff (1976) occupies a unique place in cinematic history, as the first commerciallysuccessful film to capitalise upon the myth of the ‘snuff’ movie. By blending cinema verité styling with a media moral panic, savvy producer Allan Shackleton’s blending of a long-forgotten exploitation film with a newly filmed bloody, if unconvincing conclusion, only served to consolidate the belief that somewhere, at some time, someone was killed on camera in an attack that was as much about the sexual gratification of the film’s intended audience, as it was about the commercial rewards for those producing the film. In the years since its release, the film has been routinely cited as ‘evidence’ of the snuff movie’s existence, contributing to a cultural history that exists outside of the film. This book explores the production, distribution and exhibition of the film Snuff, alongside that cultural history, considering how a scarcely seen exploitation film contributed to a popular understanding of the snuff movie. It assesses the cultural, cinematic and political legacy of the film and asks whether the established definition ofwhat might constitute a snuff movie, that was defined 45 years ago, is sufficient in an attention economy that is based upon participatory culture.