Pictures
AUSTIN FANTASY FILM FEST
On Thursday, September 21st, I boarded Jet Blue flight 1069, stocked up with
socks and undies, pills and drops, my STREET TRASH belt buckle (created by a
Navajo Indian in Tucson) and STREET TRASH t-shirt, some Levitra – just in case…,
my airline ticket, and a copy of “I Wake Up Screening’ a fun read by John
Anderson and the lovely Laura Kim (marketing and publicity exec at Warner
Independent Pictures) , and flew uneventfully down to Austin, Texas for the 2nd
annual Fantasy Film Fest at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, which my friend Oren
Shai, who’d had a film (HEAVY SOUL) in competition at South By Southwest, also
held there, claimed was the best movie theater he’d ever seen, and insisted I
had to go down if for no other reason than to experience it.
I’d been invited primarily by Kier-La Janisse, one of the Alamo’s four
programmers, formerly the founder of Canada’s Cinemuerte, who harbors a
particular fondness for STREET TRASH, and persuaded (without too much
persuading, I’m told) her fellow programmers that it should be included as a
retro piece, a popular concept at most major fests.
The Original Alamo Drafthouse, which I visited, had been a parking garage, which
Tim and Karrie League purchased, thereafter implementing their grand design:
every other row of seats was torn out, to be replaced by a long table on which
movie patrons would drink the beer and food they ordered, and have a rousing
good time with whatever (often audience interactive) flick was playing (the
night I dropped by it was THE TERMINATOR - with a ‘Mystery Science Theater’
styled trio ribbing the film mercilessly). It was a fabulous idea and a real
labor of love of cinema, bringing, as I saw instantly, a sense of grand fun back
into movie-going in these far-too-expensive movie-going times. And though
eating, boozing, and participating in screen/stage activities are
enthusiastically encouraged, annoying ‘living room’ chatter is not, and patrons
can summon bouncers who will instantly put a stop to that kind of
counterproductive behavior.
That was in ’97. The New Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, where the Fantasy Fest was
held, opened in 2005, and was formerly a supermarket. Austin is a
youth-dominated city, an art-conscious, film-lovers’ city, and this kind of
venue, and this kind of film fest, was right up Austin’s collective alley.
(Surprising, therefore, that attendance at the STREET TRASH and THE MELTDOWN
MEMOIRS screenings were a bit thin…but those who showed were a knowledgeable
batch who asked interesting, and sometimes loaded, questions). There was a
Portland, Oregon precedent to this kind of architecturally revisionist movie
theater, but it’s the first I’d seen of its kind, and the food was great –
prepared and delivered by a staff which, at any given time, numbered perhaps
fifty. In all, 130 people are employed by the theater, and I was truly impressed
by their uniform professional, friendly, and courteous demeanors I’ll never
forget Justin (one of the theater managers)’s kindness for that bowl of Amy’s
Mexican chocolate ice cream with Ghiradelli sauce…truly beyond the call of duty.
Mike & Eddie were swell shuttle-bus commanders. And while at the Hotel, I got to
see tens of thousands of bats swirl out into the twilight sky. The bridge under
which they hang, dormant, by day was lined with tourists like myself, eager to
witness the spectacle. On that particular day, the wind was fierce, and blew the
acrid cloud of bats back into our faces! What an experience!
I had been told there was no ‘fine’ dining in Austin, but plenty of ‘good’ food.
Maybe that’s true in Austin, but within an hour radius, I must tell you, their
modesty is revealed to be merely a myth. Among the delirious delights of which I
partook (with the fest organizers’ generous assistance) was a little trip to
Lockhart, Texas, to visit Smitty’s Market, said to serve the best barbecue in
the state. I’m a barbecue aficionado, if not a barbecue gourmet, and I was
utterly thrilled to be driven to this small, unassuming, extremely quiet town,
and once there to be taken into an equally unassuming building, down a long
corridor, assailed by the smell of barbecue, and the heat of the ovens. The
cooks, who I glimpsed in their natural habitat, were straight out of central
casting. I couldn’t help but think of THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE…
There was a bright, air-conditioned room where families sat at picnic-type
tables and gorged themselves on barbecue, but our host (Karrie League), always
pushing for the most authentic experience, insisted on a communal table right
next to an open, blazing oven/kiln. This seemed ultimately a smart maneuver,
since we were instantly sweating off all the fat and grease that was sliding
down our gullets. A mounted antelope-head shield with a baby alligator skull on
top adorned the wall. The plates were not plates, but greasy wax paper. I
devoured some pop-in-your-mouth sausage, followed by some of their renowned,
superb brisket. There were also ribs and prime rib, which I sampled…and no
utensils – just white bread, a kind of variation on eating Ethiopian. Beer and
RC cola washed it all down.
It was also a nice opportunity to meet some of the other filmmakers, who took
the journey to Lockhart with me, an eclectic bunch from as far away as Germany
and Sweden. The social environment at the Fest was definitely five star.
Multiple auditoriums were screening horror and sci-fi flicks all evening long at
the new Alamo. Resident film critic (for Ain’tItCoolNews.com)/co-programmer
Harry Knowles was either holding court in the lobby, or just outside the
entrance to the theater. The night STREET TRASH played, a sci-fi flick called
GamerZ out-drew us attendance-wise, and I heard it was quite good. One I caught
and liked was ISOLATION, which everyone felt was ALIEN on a cow farm, a dark and
creepy idea, well-made and well-acted.
THE MELTDOWN MEMOIRS, which I’ve seen projected theatrically several times,
never looked as good as it did that day. Most of the myriad fests and horror
cons that have sprung up around the country throw together makeshift screening
rooms which miserably represent one’s work, but it’s accepted as more or less
the nature of the beast. To their credit, the Alamo’s projection systems are
superior set-ups, an indicator of the pride the organizers take in their work.
A surprise screening was APOCALYPTO, unfinished, with Mel Gibson in attendance.
It was his first public appearance, I was told, since the scandal (check
Victoria’s review of APOCALYPTO elsewhere on the site), and a feeling of dread
was circulating among the staff that someone would bring up his recent faux pas
during the Q & A. But it never happened - Austin was well-behaved. The film,
several steps from being fully edited, timed and scored, was more commercial
than I’d expected (not a negative thing) and featured the most incredible
casting in years. I can’t imagine how long the process took. Art direction was
almost equally memorable. An audience member invoked ROAD WARRIOR as a
comparison in that regard, not a bad link to have made.
I had such a good time that I’m considering speeding up my usual snail’s pace
and completing THE DEFINITIVE DOCUMENT OF THE DEAD in order to qualify for a
possible invite back next year…
Drafthouse Amber from Independence Brewing
Alamo Drafthouse Amber Ale
Deep amber in color