We arranged with our friends to meet early in front of
the theater and go to dinner at a nearby restaurant/pub. In addition
to The Gryphon and I, attending were The White Rabbit, The Cheshire
Cat, The Dormouse, Batman, The Court Wizard and My College Roommate's
Ex.
The pub was crowded, but they seated us right away. Serving
us took a little longer than we'd expected, in part because the wait
staff kept confusing our order. Apparently, they mistook our group of
seven men and one woman, sitting at a counter, for a man and a woman
sitting at a nearby table. Easy mistake.
During dinner I chatted with The White Rabbit about topics
ranging from my pregnancy to the questionable practices of Adolf Hitler's
personal physician, who prescribed the Fuhrer a medicine containing
strychnine as well as, possibly, methamphetamines. These prescriptions
could explain his deteriorating health and growing paranoia.
The Gryphon interjected: "How did you get from strange
ladies touching your belly to Hitler?"
I explained that's just how our brains work.
Shortly before the show was to start, nearly the entire
bar emptied. We made it to the theater with a few minutes to spare.
Since The Gryphon and I had bought our tickets late, we were in one
of the back rows. I was fine with this. But when I noticed that our
seats were in the middle of a large row, I muttered, "Oh, no. This
is going to be rough." Now that I'm pregnant, I have to use the
bathroom more frequently, and I've always had a small bladder (just
ask The Gryphon).
The usher told me there would be intermissions, and I
resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to bother a row of people
every time I needed to go between intermissions.
While I was standing in the aisle waiting for The Gryphon
to return from the men's room, the usher returned and asked me if I'd
like her to see if she could get me an aisle seat. I told her that would
be great. She introduced me to the manager, Oscar, a tall guy in his
20s with sandy-colored hair. He consulted his seating chart for unsold
seats and moved us to aisle seats just behind the sound board, in the
middle of theater. Just in case somebody questioned us, he made a special
notation on my ticket and signed it.
In addition, he told me I could use the handicapped restroom
near the snack counter, rather than going all the way upstairs every
time.
Although I was a little embarrassed about the special
treatment, just like my proud Polish grandfather would have been, I
was exceedingly grateful for their consideration. As it turned out,
I did need to run to the restroom at least once during each film, in
addition to going during intermission. Thanks to our new seats, I could
come and go without disturbing anyone.
With that settled, we could relax and enjoy the show.
Or at least, enjoy the jokes, because the movies themselves were far
from enjoyable. First was an opening set by Dave "Gruber"
Allen, a.k.a. Jeff Rosso on Freaks and Geeks (or so I'm told).
He did an ambitious piece that involved talking about the history of
the last 10 years of music over a pop song, occasionally singing portions
of the other songs during the instrumental sections. It worked surprisingly
well.
A little later, he performed with Josh Elvis Weinstein
and Frank Conniff. They did a theme song for a proposed TV show, Convoluted
Man (VIDEO
HERE from another performance).
The first movie on the bill was a lamentable Japanese
movie from 1968 called Konchu
daisenso, which was first released as Genocide in the
U.S. and then retitled Attack of the Insects. If only they had
changed more than the title.
Attack of the Insects was ostensibly a monster
movie except without, you know, monsters. Instead, the culprits of this
movie are genetically-modified bees, developed by a mad scientist seeking
massive calamity for some undefined purpose. Of course, the apiary actors
struck me as rather innocent and normal, buzzing around in their glass
containers in the scientist's lab, wondering where all the flowers had
gone. The scariest moment was actually more fascinating than anything
else: a super close-up of a bee biting (yes, BITING) what appears to
be human skin. With crunching sound effects. It was, I believe, a hornet
rather than a bee, and I found myself wondering whether it was real
human skin or some sort of fake and how they managed to persuade the
poor insect to chomp down on it.
Basically, this movie could only be scary to someone suffering
from apiphobia. Or perhaps someone who had a phobia of really bad movies.
The Cinematic Titanic crew (OFFICIAL
SITE)— Conniff, Weinstein, Mary Jo Pehl, Trace Beaulieu and
Joel Hodgson — sat on either side of the screen and riffed on it
throughout. They were in fine form, with recurring jokes involving one
of the characters being a womanizer. Since they no longer need to worry
about broadcast regulations, they made some off-color jokes and even
the occasional swear word. This was also easier for them to get away
with, since they were not in character or using the famous MST3K puppets.
No risk of offending loyal fans, in other words.
Even when they messed up, they were funny, with Mary Jo
botching a few lines and the rest of the crew teasing her. Then, she
got in a particularly funny reference to Citizen Kane. In a flashback
showing one of characters screaming, "Genocide," she said,
"His sled was named Genocide." The audience erupted in raucous
applause for several seconds, and Pehl took a little bow.
During the intermission I caught up with the rest of our
friends and waited in line with them at first the drink counter and
then the snack stand. They were having a good time, and we made our
own jokes about the movie we'd seen, including, I'm sorry to say, some
really atrocious puns.
The next instrument of torture was an Italian film from
1961, titled Maciste
alla corte del Gran Khan, or Samson and the Seven Miracles
of the World. The movie stars Gordon Scott, who starred in six Tarzan
movies in the 1950s and early 1960s. From looking at his filmography,
he made a career as a B-movie hero in "sword and sandal" epics,
seldom donning a shirt. He also had been quoted as saying, "Tarzan
was ideal for me because I didn't have too much dialogue." At least
he knew his limits.
Sadly, though, the makers of this movie failed to utilize
his strengths (pun intended). Scott struts about in a red loincloth,
permanently sucking in his gut, even while his character is assumed
dead. Occasionally, he gets to make pained faces while straining to
lift large rocks clearly made out of Styrofoam, but other than that,
there's not much for him to do.
In a truly comic scene, he jumps on the back of a chariot
and slows it to a halt by dragging his feet. Fred Flintstone has nothing
on him.
And what about the seven miracles of the world, you ask?
As far as I could tell, the only miracle here is that somebody actually
funded this movie.
The running jokes from the Cinematic Titanic crew throughout
this movie centered on Scott's physique and scanty wardrobe. For example,
as a crowd of people in a bar turn to stare at Samson, one of the crew
said, "Please ignore the tall, naked foreigner."
By this movie, The Gryphon was starting to get truly tired.
I was doing better, since I'd had a nap. I did notice a number of people
wearing their coats and apparently heading out. This struck me as odd,
since it was only about 20 minutes until midnight. But I guess some
people don't care about celebrating the turn of the year.
The concession stands sold champagne for whoever wanted
to participate in a midnight toast. I stuck to ginger ale, of course.
Just before midnight, the crew came back on the stage and did a countdown.
At the stroke of midnight, they raised their glasses to the new year,
and the audience did likewise. There were a few noisemakers, brought
in from outside, and a lot of good cheer and frivolity.
Little did we know we would be subjected next to a 1971
horror of a horror movie, Legacy
of Blood (Joel's review of it and a video clip can be found
here).
In order to inherit their share of a family fortune, four heirs, their
spouses, and a couple of domestic staff spend the night on the estate
of wealthy Christopher Dean (John Carradine, whose role is restricted
to a few flashbacks but who is still the best actor in the film). Everything
seems fine (well, aside from the seething hatred between the characters
and hints of unrequited incestual attraction) until someone begins killing
off the guests, sometimes in creative ways. Let's just say: stay away
from the ham.
Like The Gryphon beside me, who had slept through portions
of both of the first two movies, I watched the movie from the inside
of my eyelids for a while in the middle of the film. I could, however,
hear all the jokes and could figure out from that what was happening.
When I opened my eyes to see the last third of the movie, I wondered
if it might not have been better to keep them closed.
Truly, this is one of the worst B-movie horror flicks
I've ever seen, and I watched quite a few during my vampire phase. From
a meandering plot to terrible special effects to laughable flashback
sequences, the film qualifies as an epic fail.
Recurring jokes for this movie revolved around the hints
of incest and the obviously low-budget sets and props. I think that
it was Conniff who summed it up for everyone when, at the close of the
film, as the killer talks directly to the camera, he said, "F***
you and f*** this movie."
The evening, however, was far from an epic fail. Instead,
it was six hours of laughs with a crowd of like-minded folks. One of
the more civilized and pleasant New Year's Eves I've ever celebrated.
Well, except for the mutated killer bees, naked foreigners, incest and
murder.
