Stephen Thrower once again pulls on his galoshes and wades deep into the mire of latex and tangled videotape that is the horror cinema underground. In previous books, Thrower has focused primarily on European output; but here he begins an epic assault on the American exploitation scene from 1970 to 1985.

For Thrower, these are halcyon days, when nothing got in the way of a fast buck and localised home-grown output could respond to current events and the national mood far faster, and often more effectively, than their bloated major studio counterparts. By the mid 1970s, however, the studios had caught on and began churning out schlock of their own, much of it lacking the hungry zeal, spontaneous panache or plain loopiness that makes the good stuff so appealing. Following this, the independents toned down their own material to better emulate the majors and the cycle began again – America eats its young and the great Ouroboros of culture is sated once more.

Thrower brings a finely-honed analytical eye to the material, one that few of the films’ creators can ever have expected to receive, but his writing is never dry. In fact, his enthusiasm can be downright alarming at times. Following a lengthy, heartfelt paean to the starkly choreographed thrills of the slasher genre, even the author feels it necessary to note “perhaps I’m getting a little peculiar in my old age”.

The bulk of the book combines detailed reviews with biographical interviews and reminiscences from many of the filmmakers, and it’s here that we sense the passion and dedication – even heroism – involved in getting these films onto the screen, as well as the labyrinthine career paths taken by some of their creators. Who would have believed that the writer/director of monster mashup The Deadly Spawn taught High School English to David Copperfield, that Sopranos maestro David Chase cut his teeth on Grave of the Vampire, or that the director of Devil Wolf of Shadow Mountain would end up making a new-age docudrama starring mystic astronaut Edgar Mitchell?

Cultural archæology of this kind is increasingly important in our throwaway world, particularly for those of us trying to gain a better understanding of the fringes inhabited by fortean phenomena. The drive-ins, grindhouses and VCRs that beamed Godmonster of Indian Flats or Frozen Scream into the churning collective unconscious of America’s youth are the forge of future forteana, urban folklore and moral panics. These are the cinematic equivalents of Fort’s “damned data”.

A final note on the lavish production values – Nightmare USA may be pricey, but it’s all sizzle and all steak, with the text complemented by coffee-table-sized colour pages of rare photos, posters and lobby cards from the filmmakers’ own collections.