2:00 A.M. Bloody Bingo
Sensing the possible need to shake her audience from an impending slumber, Guerra inserted a rousing game of Bloody Bingo. Instead of the usual 5×5 of numbers and letters, however, our host scarred our cards with grotesque references. Prizes were rewarded to the folks that could string “Cancer Snake” and “Zombie Shark ” together. I did not come close to winning, but Bloody Bingo’s promise of “cats within cats” provided rejuvenation of the mind and body.
2:40 A.M. Uninvited
Recently remastered and released via Vinegar Syndrome, Uninvited was the discovery of the night. A tabby cat hides a terrifying secret within. Another cat! Wait, what? The poor little fuzzball recently escaped from a chemical lab where cruel experiments were perpetrated upon it. The outcome of those medical tests is the birth of another cat that escapes from the tabby cat’s mouth, tears at the flesh of men, and returns from whence it came. The tabby flees its prison and falls into the hands of a pair of spring break teenagers who have wormed their way onto Wall Street gangster Alex Cord‘s yacht. As they try to avoid his grabby hands, the tabby unleashes its inner beast who tears through henchmen in the form of George Kennedy and Clu Gulager. This is too much movie to place into one blurb, but I encourage all like-minded psychos to seek it out.
Uninvited shook the crowd teetering on consciousness. We were all in some form of snickering, giggling, or scene reenactment as the credits rolled. Similar to Hard Ticket to Hawaii, the film spawns questions as to what possibly could have inspired writer/director Greydon Clark into birthing such an oddity, and I find myself hovering over the Blu-ray purchase button simply for the commentary track access.
4:20 A.M. Sleepaway Camp
I knew the VHS box art well before I ever saw the film. Bloody knife penetrating a sneaker; a child’s letter to mom and dad explaining the joys of summer camp floating above. The marketing team would have you believe this is like any other Friday the 13th slasher, but the movie itself ventures into some deeply problematic and uncomfortable territory. Conversation around the film tends to focus on the twist ending, but my big takeaway this time around were the ages of the actors performing these ghastly encounters. Jason Vorhees mostly slaughtered twenty-somethings or thirty-somethings masquerading as teenagers. In Sleepaway Camp, the victims and the killer are portrayed by actual children, a point-of-topic I had never really considered until our host mentioned it in her intro.
One could easily hoot and holler against the preposterous narrative and its equally ridiculous eighties wardrobe, but Sleepaway Camp scores its thrills from a very upsetting trauma. Under a more assured or sensitive hand, the story could speak to an authentic fear. As it stands, Sleepaway Camp is an eccentric maverick amongst moralistic slashers. Noteworthy. Disturbed.
6:00 A.M. Psycho Beach Party
Dropping a psychotic killer amongst the beach blanket bingos of Frankie and Annette is a natural fit. All those golly-gee clean-loving hormones of the sixties deserve a little splash of blood. The only aspect that made me a nervous going into this spoof is the fact that most post-modern ribbings on exploitation are too wonky for their own good and often lose the appeal of the subject their lampooning. Robert Lee King‘s Psycho Beach Party miraculously has its cake and eats it too. The comedy lands, the killings are nasty, and empathy for its hero is captured. Lauren Ambrose as the multiple-personality disordered wannabe surfer hunted by a maniac is uniformly goofy and sincere, selling the script where other actors would stumble. Alongside her are memorable turns from Amy Adams, Thomas Gibson, Nicholas Brendon, and Charles Louis Busch.
7:40 A.M. Terror Trivia
For all my passion and bravado surrounding movies and their affiliated minutia, I am straight-up terrible at trivia. If it’s not at the forefront of my brain, then it’s long gone in the dark recesses never to see the light of day again. Whatever. I may never win, but I’m always eager to watch others conquer in this arena. To kick off the breakfast hours and get the blood circulating before the last round of movies, Faye Guerra constructed a contest modeled after Dead Right Horror Trivia Night which recently made a pitstop at the Alamo Drafthouse in Winchester thanks to Shock Waves co-host and director Rebekah McKendry. Psychorama participants squared off in groups, and the folks with photographic memories regarding splatstick dialogue took home the most prizes. More importantly to moi, at the end of this battle, the Fashion Icon trophy for best P.J.s was awarded to this jolly green Godzilla onesie. I don’t have many awards to place on my mantle, but this one will forever sit proudly next to my 3rd grade soccer statue for greatest-improvement.
8:15 A.M. Devil Fish
Woof. No, thank you. I love monster sharks equipped with limb-ripping tentacles as much as the next person, but this drab Lamberto Bava feature is as boring as its color scheme. As we neared the end of the morning, I could have used an energetic injection, but I took the opportunity to catch winks instead. Thankfully, the next film chosen to close out the festival was already a personally sanctioned classic.
10:10 A.M. Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight
If I’m looking for a hill to die upon, its name is Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight. Not just an extended episode of the HBO series, cinematographer-turned-director Ernest Dickerson reaches into the four-color palate of the EC Comics and delivers a stylish scoop of biblical horror. William Sadler is humanity’s last hope, safeguarding the blood of Christ from Billy Zane‘s cow(and head)punching demon. Finding solace in a motel built on the bones of a church, Sadler partners with an exceptional batch of character actors who solidify their archetypes with passion and authenticity. Demon Knight enchants in pre-CGI details, delighting in practical creatures and free-flowing hydrants of Karo blood. What could have easily been a cheap lifeless siege film is transformed by the hands of its cast and crew into the most epic of good vs. evil battles.
Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight did not find its audience in 1995, failing to produce its post-credits promised sequel Dead Easy in favor for the cheaper and unsatisfying Bordello of Blood. However, thanks to loving curators like Faye Guerra and the recent documentary Horror Noire, Ernest Dickerson’s debut is finally receiving the love it so richly deserves.
I stumbled out of the Alamo Drafthouse gurgling with a mixture of fatigue and euphoria. Why do movie maniacs gather to watch old films that are easily accessible via physical media and streaming services? Community and belonging. It’s one thing to know that other weirdos like you exist out there on the Internet, but it’s an entirely different thing to sit next to a fellow junkie and partake in the addiction together. Their commitment validates your own. A life spent consuming stories legitimized through mutual experience. Not to mention the added benefit of a shared language of passion and the resulting rave of energy such communication emits. Some folks find equal pleasure at the ballpark or the dancefloor; I find it with my eyes glued to the majesty and wonder of Hard Ticket to Hawaii projected in pristine high definition the way God and Andy Sidaris intended.
Related Topics: Alamo Drafthouse, Film Festivals, Sleepaway Camp
