presents
a film festival diary by ryan lies
Here it is, Saturday morning, the 18th of October. It’s a chilly morning in Columbus, Ohio, outside of Studio 35. My chums and I shuffle into line around 9:30ish; the doors open at 11:45. The marquee above the sidewalk reads 5TH ANNUAL 24 HOUR HORROR MARATHON. I’m thinking that folks driving by must think we’re nuts. A few freaks walk amongst the crowd, dressed like The Crazies in HazMat suits, carrying plastic assault-rifles and placards proclaiming THE END IS HERE!
The undead are invading Columbus, we’re told, but if we all stick together for the next 24 hours, we’ll make it through just fun. This is so damn cheesy, but I love it.
While in line, my friend Jason G. asks me if I want to know some stuff about Star Wars 3 and I say “Of course.” So he regales me with so many juicy details that I begin to freak out. Stop it! I want to see it NOW and I can’t. But if even HALF of what he says is in that movie, then look out freaks and geeks! It just might make you explode.
Finally we get inside, find out seats and settle in. This rickety old seat is where I will spend the next 24 hours. Hell … am I gonna make it? I’ll concede that I’m already feeling tired. I don’t sleep much during the week and usually play catch up on the weekends. We 
drove down five hours from Grand Rapids, Michigan, the night before, and didn’t get to our hotel until about 3 in the am. And we got up at 9, I think. So yeah, I’m worried already. I’ll look like a choad in front of all my friends. Knowing a couple them, they might just pee on me if I nod off. I should’ve brought a gun.
So then the first flick begins … The Damned Walk at Midnight, aka The Last Man On Earth … the classic low-budget version of Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend, starring Vincent Price. I’ve never seen this one, but always wanted to. Boy is it something special! The fact that I’m even seeing it on a big screen is almost bringing tears to my eyes. This is pure cheese and the audience devours it whole. There’s what may be the WORST little actress in the world in this movie. She plays Price’s daughter before a plague wipes out all of civilization and the scene where she goes blind as she is trying to reach out to her mom is the funniest damn thing I’ve seen in a long time.
Most of the flick involves Price boarding himself up in his house while a bunch of vampire-zombie-goth-kids bang on his doors with 2x4’s shouting “Morgaaaaaaan ….” Also, while watching it, look out for “Happy, the Running Dog.” Awesome!
Amidst the laughter and the Morgaaaaaans … I begin to become really annoyed by a piece of bacon lodged between two of my teeth. My fingernails can’t get it; and naturally I have floss. Finally the MacGyver in me rises to the fore and I folds the ends of a straw and dig that little beastie out. Shit, that feels good.
Vincent Price ends and something called King of the Ants is up next. Oddly enough I hadn’t heard of this one, even though it’s the new flick from Stuart (Re-Animator) Gordon. I feel ashamed. I should probably go give myself a swirly, but no one seems to pay much attention to my ignorance. I hear it’s some sort of crime film, which instantly causes an inner groan. Just not what I’m in the mood for now.
I get back just as trailers begin. There’s something called The Rats Are Coming, The Werewolves Are Here that looks like it might just be the best movie EVER MADE. Why I’ve never seen it is baffles me and I make a mental note to pistol-whip myself later for sucking so bad.
King of the Ants turns out to be pretty good, and gets me into it right away. It’s raw, brutal and fast. The story of some construction workers who hire a loser to whack a guy for them and then refuse to pay him for his services. When the loser won’t go away they kidnap him and torture him. Eventually the loser escapes and comes back for revenge. Sounds simple and you’ve heard that one a million times before, I know, but it’s pretty good. Very much a throwback to flicks like I Spit on the Your Grave, The House on the Edge of the Park and Ms. 45. The torture scenes in this are actually quite excruciating. They even made me cringe. Probably the worst thing I’ve seen in a non-horror film since that baseball-bat in the cornfield scene in Casino.
Plus, George Wendt is in it, and he’s playing a bad guy. I mean, it’s Norm beating the crap out of people, cussin’ and drinkin’. And then there’s co-star Kari Wurher, who’s just completely smoking hot. Her graphic sex scene is what the frame-by-frame button was invented for.
After Ants it’s time for the costume contest. My friend Jeremy ends up winning it, dressed as the Pizzo Bandito. Unbelievable. He wins a ton of sweet DVDs and 100 bucks! I’m happy for him and all, and I love him to death, but what a jerk. Seeing the big pizza slice around his neck is making me hungry, though. (Did I mention that this theater orders pizzas for you, from Papa John’s? AND they serve beer? I know, I know … I wanted to move in, too.)
The next movie is I Walked With A Zombie, another that I have never seen. It was released in 1943, and I know it’s gonna be slow and talky. Normally that’s fine, but right now I need something more kinetic. I got for a walk and come back about forty minutes later. I watch the rest of the movie. From what I see I like it. But it’s a locked-in-my-room-with-a-10 piece-McNugget-and-a-beer-by-myself-after-midnight kind of movie. Very moody and it drips with atmosphere that most modern movies don’t even try to attain. And I mean that as an insult to modern movies. For it’s time, this has some pretty impressive cinematography AND on of the creepiest damn zombies EVER. There’s also a great exchange of dialogue early on:
“What’s a zombie?”
“It’s a ghostlike figure who walks around. It’s also a nice mixed drink.”
The crowd is patient with it and seems to enjoy it for what it is. I’m trying to get that super hot sex scene from Ants out of my head. Here it is only three movies in and I’m missing my girlfriend. To keep myself from buying my right hand a drink at the bar I start to imagine that island of man-meat George Wendt (who’s puffed up to Dr. Marlon Moreau proportions!) doing the Worm, naked, in front of me, while humming Tatu’s “Not Gonna Get Us.” That takes care of that. What’s next?
Oh man … here it is. Night of the Living Dead. My all time favorite movie and personal choice for BEST HORROR MOVIE EVER MADE. I have never seen it on a big screen, and never watched it with an audience.
Also, supposedly, George Romero himself should be showing up any time now for a Q&A and autographs. I’m probably more nervous than I let on. He is, after all, one of my idols. And just knowing I’m watching NOTLD while he might be somewhere in the SAME THEATRE as me … oh jeez.
The movie begins, I feel a tear coalesce in the corner of one eye. It’s so beautiful. So sublime.
But before I can get into it Jason G. leans over and says he just saw Romero out in the lobby, ordering a Killian’s at the bar. My friend Rick and I decide we’ve seen this movie enough times, and it’d be FAR sweeter to go talk to the man who made the movie.
We spend awhile talking with George Romero out on the sidewalk, under the sizzling marquee lights. It’s too cool for words. He laments about the paucity of good storytelling in modern horror, social and political commentary in horror … and what It’s like knowing you created a whole genre and impacted pretty much ALL of the horror in the latter half of the 20th century. He’s very personable and gracious. I get a picture taken with him.
He comes inside for the Q&A and afterwards we slip into line in the lobby to get some crap autographed. I have my NOTLD Millennium Edition DVD and my copy of the Creepshow comic (the one where Steve King looks like a sasquatch on the back cover.) While we’re in line, they start up the “surprise movie:” Dawn of the Dead. Man, this couldn’t get ANY better (unless they rounded it out with Day, of course, and supplied free lap-dances from Kari Wuhrer … and free comics.)
After Dawn Romero is still besieged by fans and it’s time for the "Night of the Living BREAD" cast and crew reunion. As little said about this whole ordeal the better. I don’t get it, never did. Who cares. This is some local BIG DEAL and I best just keep out of it. During the Q& A, my friend Rick raises his hand and asks if he can buy either one of the actresses a drink. The nervous laughter from the audience and the contemptuous looks on the faces of the actresses (who are happily married, it is revealed) is SO worth it.
Next up after all that is the Japanese zombie flick Versus, a movie I have heard so many great things about but have yet to watch. I’m bowing out, though. Going to the car to get a couple hour rest. I want to see this one bad enough and don’t want it spoiled by nodding off halfway through.
I lay down in my car, parked about a block away. It’s cold, and the night sounds of Columbus are freaking me out. Squealing tires. Profanity-laced shouts. And there’s a huge swell in the back seat that goes right up my back. I lay for an hour with my 
eyes closed, but to no avail. Oh well. It’s 12:32 am, and I’m freezing and I decide to go back in.
I walk back in at the tail end of Versus. In the theater hangs a thick miasma of congealed pizza toppings, body odor, spilled beer, recycled chili … but that’s what you get. Into the smell I traipse, ready and sleepy for more.
The rest of the marathon sails by as I struggle to stay awake. And I do manage to nod off only once or twice or thrice during the next 10 hours or so. Amazing, but true.
Freaks plays next and although this is usually a flick I take seriously, at 2:30 in the morning, while sitting in a dark, stinky theater full of slap-happy geeks, it’s hard not to laugh at the absurdity here. It’s such a surreal experience and those pinheads are kinda freaky. If one sat down next to me I’d scream and pee my pants.
Anyway, this flick still rocks my world and I say the ending is still one of the most horrifying in horror history. Which is perfect preparation for Pieces, which is up next. This flick is so BAD that the crowd latches onto it right away, as they did with The Last Man On Earth. In fact, Last Man, Freaks and Pieces may well be the three most purely pleasurable viewing experiences on the whole bill. Not cuz they’re the best three movies, but man are they a riot!
Pieces … it’s exactly what you think it is, says the poster. And boy is it ever! It plays like a bargain-bin Argento movie with horrible dubbing, lots of boobs and blood and the audience is ripping this one up like you wouldn’t believe. “Morgaaaaaaan …” is replaced by “ Bastard! BASTARD!” but you’ll have to watch it to get that one.
After Pieces I just don’t think I could laugh anymore. I’m spent. Ichi the Killer comes on and I pretty much check out. I don’t actually sleep, but I close my eyes and just drift in and out for seconds at a time while listening to the movie. I like this movie and have seen it several times. So before you start yelling at me, just bear that in mind.
God, my ass hurts. And someone keeps farting. Two rows back, three? I don’t know. Eventually Ichi ends and up comes one of my faves. The MC tells us this is a freshly struck print and it looks beautiful up there! Zombie vs. shark … eyeball gouging … YUMMY. This movie rocks everything! See it if you haven’t and if you don’t love it, don’t come crying to me.
Its almost 9 am and my friend Jeremy and I discuss how these Italian flicks always make us horny cuz the ladies are always doffing their towels and swimsuits or taking showers in the midst of horror. I’m just glad I’m not watching Crash. Then I’d be in trouble.
Here we are, two more movies to go. I hear “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” blaring from the 
speakers. The Hunger unfolds on the screen. And I’ve seen this a few times and always kinda liked it, but it works better on a big, wide screen. The music in this movie rocks. I want to hunt down the soundtrack some day. And that lesbian scene is still hot. And man, I never realized how dope that ending actually is. The whole movie may be style over substance but who cares? The ending just takes my breath away for it’s stylized creepiness.
The Hunger ends and most everyone wakes back up for the final flick. Peter Jackson uber-gorefest Dead Alive. I’m geeked that I finally get to see this on the big screen. Holy cow … it’s even juicier than usual. The crowd eats it up. “I kick ass for the Lord!” gets a HUGE ovation. When the end credits roll, we’re all drained, ready for bed, ready to let these images sink in , run their course and join the protean soup of memory.
Fish planks sound good … greasy hamburgers sound good … I miss my woman … I want to sleep and sleep for days … Yet, what do I do as soon as I get home and lay down in bed?
I pop in a DVD. Of course.
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