Review of: Kids Across the Spectrums: Growing Up Autistic in the Digital Age , Meryl Alper (2023) Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 320 pp., ISBN 978-0-26254-536-5, USD 40.00

Representations of disability in contemporary horror films build on an uneasy legacy. Throughout horror history, filmmakers have used disability as a source of inspiration when creating monsters, villains and evildoers. In the twenty-first century, views on disability are changing and audience expectations are shifting. This article examines The Advent Calendar (2021), a film released at a transitional moment, balanced between embracing new visions of disability in horror and falling back into well-worn stereotypes. I argue that the film illustrates both progressive and conservative impulses towards disability representation in horror, providing a fascinating case study of how popular culture can both reflect and respond to emerging social dialogues.

This article expands the literary genre of autofiction to include the televisual medium and argues that the autofictional is employed as a narrative mode in select queer television series, namely Josh Thomas’s Please Like Me (2013–16) and Ryan O’Connell’s Special (2019–21). Autofiction’s deliberate distortion of autobiographical truth by intermingling it with fictional elements becomes a method for individuals from underrepresented communities, like the queer community and people with disabilities, to write themselves and their narratives into televisual culture. This article conducts a textual analysis of the two TV series to highlight the blurring of distinctions between the creators and their characters, supplemented by an analysis of paratextual resources (creator interviews, show titles and end credits) to locate the creators’ strategic inscriptions of their works’ autofictionality.

Review of: Folk Horror: New Global Pathways, Dawn Keetley and Ruth Heholt (eds) (2023) Cardiff: University of Wales Press, 280 pp., ISBN 978-1-78683-979-4, p/bk, $114

Tasmanian writer/producer Victoria Madden has made no secret of the influence of Scandinavian noir (also known as Nordic noir) on her work. After working in the United Kingdom and Ireland on several prestige television productions, Madden moved back to her native Tasmania and created two locally set and shot limited television series: The Kettering Incident (2016) and The Gloaming (2020). These well-received crime series – dubbed ‘Tassie noir’ by the local press – have staked out a place within the wider emerging genre of Australian noir and the perennially popular global television crime market. The Tasmanian landscape lends itself to comparison with Scandi and other European ‘noirs’ (such as Scots noir) due to its climate and topography, as well as for depicting crime narratives set in remote or marginal places. Looming mountains, treacherous coastlines and cold, rainy weather all contribute to their gothic-noir style. This article will examine Madden’s two programmes in comparison with two classic Scandi noir series, Forbrydelsen (The Killing) (2007–12) and Bron | Broen (The Bridge) (2011–18), tracing commonalties in narrative construction, character, mood and the use of landscape.

The contemporary vampire story is an apt place to explore immortality, the afterlife and other dimensions in general. Additionally, there are numerous parallels between the vampire story and the Christian story. The vampire’s ‘maker’, for example, can be compared to God, also known as ‘maker’, and a vampire’s immortality offers a relevant parallel to the Christian idea of immortality in the afterlife. The CW network series The Vampire Diaries (2009–17) houses various narratives offering such comparisons, especially with regards to alternative dimensions (‘worlds’) that can potentially be construed as commentary on the afterlife. Interestingly, though, I believe that the most compelling narrative in this regard involves the witch Bonnie Bennett and not an actual vampire. Also interestingly, Bonnie often seems to hold more power than the vampires, even though she is not necessarily immortal (she is, however, considered a supernatural being). She perpetually saves her friends throughout the series, regularly willing to sacrifice her life for theirs and actually dies in Season 4 in effort to bring Jeremy Gilbert back to life. She embodies the New Testament verse in the book of John that states, ‘[g]reater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends’. Despite that she is dead, she lives in a concurrent dimension, and only Jeremy is aware of her and can hear her. She is with him in the present. I posit that the storyline pertaining to Bonnie’s character and her death in Seasons 4 and 5 in particular offers a possible and even compelling read on the biblical description of heaven and the afterlife – and God on the whole – per Judeo-Christian scripture and scriptural interpretation.

Review of: Marveling Religion: Critical Discourses, Religion, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Jennifer Baldwin and Daniel White Hodge (eds) (2022) London: Lexington, 285 pp., ISBN 978-1-79362-139-9, h/bk, AUD 168.85 ISBN 978-1-79362-139-9, e-book, AUD 70.59

In this editorial, the editors introduce the 12.2 volume of The Australasian Journal of Popular Culture. The dynamic and interdisciplinary nature of the field is discussed with reference to the collection of articles within the volume, highlighting the malleability of popular culture in all its transdisciplinary forms. The editors provide a summary of the seven articles included in the volume, which collectively represent diverse critical discussions of the field across sociopolitical, socioeconomic and sociocultural artistic realms. The articles examine the evolving realms of the monstrous, the mythic, the heroic and the historical through various mediums like television, film, characters and historical moments. The editors then conclude by offering a summary of the three book reviews included in the volume.

This article focuses on two aspects of popular culture. Principally, the article presents a history of a popular sculpture erected at Australia’s Bondi Beach in 1960. The narrative follows the genesis of the work, its removal, and subsequent attempts to restore the sculpture at different locations on Bondi Beach and in the adjacent Bondi Park. Based on archival research and material from the popular press, the article offers the first thorough account of the sculpture, highlighting debates around its form, its popularity with local residents, the often-overlooked significance of the work as a tourist attraction, and decades-long efforts to restore the work. Secondly, the article identifies the sculpture’s creator, Lyall Randolph, as an artist who enjoyed popular appeal in Australia at this time, despite never reaching the status of an ‘elite’ artist. Investigating the place of a popular artwork in the cultural and social history of Australia’s most iconic beach, the article contributes to both Bondi and Sydney’s eastern suburbs’ local history and knowledge about popular Australian artists.

Review of: Using Superheroes and Villains in Counseling and Play Therapy: A Guide for Mental Health Professionals, Lawrence C. Rubin (ed.) (2020) New York: Routledge, 323 pp., ISBN 978-0-42945-495-0, e-book, AUD 68.99 ISBN 978-1-13861-326-3, h/bk, AUD 242.00 ISBN 978-1-13861-327-0, p/bk, AUD 75.99