|
| First
Off - A Few Words From the Author |
| Thank
You All For Coming |
As
I sit here, listening to TelstarMan's CD, and type up this memoir, I
keep glancing out the window and watch the snow fall as the first
blizzard of 2002 hits. A grand total of one foot of snow fell - from
Colorado all the way to Chicago - and I thank the cinema gods that
the inclement weather held off until after B-Fest weekend was over.
This
was my first B-Fest. We got
there late, and didn’t get to sit with everyone else, which was
regrettable but we made due. I got to meet everyone and I hope that
I didn’t appear standoffish. Nothing could be further from the
truth. Folks, I was overwhelmed by it and kept to the fringes on
purpose so I wouldn’t explode with giddiness. An atomic explosion
of pure unadulterated joy.
Sad,
but true.
I
didn’t take any notes so all of these recollections are taken
strictly from memory. Some facts may be skewered, some things might
be slightly out of order but the overall insanity of B-Fest is still
there despite the factual errors.
Enjoy.
|
-
Chad Plambeck |
|
- B-Fest
Survivor |
-
- - -
| The
Calm Before the Storm |
| and
Government Cheese! |
So
I roll into Omaha around 4:30, Thursday afternoon, and, despite my
dyslexicly challenged directions, manage to wind my way to the
Bellevue suburbs and find the home of one Paul Freeland, anime
enthusiast, soccer nut and top wheelman for 3B
Theater with
little incident. (A
good omen I’m sure compared to my last trip to Chicago which was a
geographical nightmare. Read all about that fiasco right
here.)
Paul
had graciously volunteered his car for our trek to B-Fest; the
premiere get together for B-Movie fanatics and a place where the
B-Movie brethren can congregate and actually meet each other face to
face. This was my first trip to B-Fest and I was already getting
pretty jazzed by the prospect of it all.
We
headed into Omaha proper and hit the Suncoast Video and I picked up
a copy of The Man from Planet X,
Tombs of the Blind Dead
and Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead
Things. We also hit the Barnes and
Noble and I indulged in my other passion - World War II history, in
particular the ETO - and picked up a copy of The
101st Airborne in Normandy
and The Ardennes: The Battle of the
Bulge.
After
spending entirely too much money we made our way into the Old Market
area of town and settled on The Spaghetti Works for supper. The
logical thinking was to pack in the carbohydrates because we
wouldn’t be eating a whole lot over the next couple of days
because, allegedly (more
on this later),
there was no food or drink allowed in the theater during B-Fest.
Paul wolfed down some kind of green spaghetti while I inhaled some
fettuccini alfredo.
Stomachs
distended we retired back to stately Freeland Manor and watched the
new Monty Python and The Holy Grail
special edition DVD. Man, sometimes you just forget how funny that
movie is. We watched the film and all the extras. Paul offered to
pop in The Last Man on Earth
next but I declined wanting to at least try to get some sleep before
the big day.
This
was a little after midnight with a wake up call set for 5:30 am. I
should have known better. I retired to one of the bedrooms and
proceeded to stare at the ceiling for about four hours. (I
work nights so my day usually runs from 11am to 4am.)
I did manage to catch a few Zzz’s before Paul rousted me out.
We
hop into Paul’s car and I carve out a niche in the back seat. We
get gas and load up on pop, zingers and I snagged a couple Deli
Express ham and cheese sandwiches for breakfast. I apologize to Paul
before hand then waited, inevitably, for the government cheese on
those things to kick in. Chicago, here we come.
-
- - -
| B-Fest
or Bust |
| and
the dreaded Black Hole of Des Moines! |
I
never could get Paul to pull my finger but, before we even crossed
the Nebraska/Iowa border, the back windows were already down. I
stretched out to try and catch some more sleep. I’m jolted awake
by a string of profanities from Paul. I glance out the back window
and, uh-oh, rollers, one of Iowa’s finest wants us to pull over.
Leadfoot Freeland got caught by the Iowa Sky (Nazi)
Patrol doing 84 mph in a 65 mph zone.
To
be honest, as far as patrolmen go, this guy was pretty nice and
knocked the fine down to something more reasonable. (And
in a strange ironic twist I told Paul when we started that I’d
spring for gas and his B-Fest ticket but for food and speeding
tickets he was on his own.)
Now,
there’s a funny thing I’ve noticed while driving through Iowa;
right around Des Moines, you run into some kind of...unnatural
phenomenon. I’ve dubbed it the Black Hole of Des Moines. It’s
some kind of time/space distortion that sucks you in and you drive
around for 10 hours and then it spits you out in the exact same spot
and at the exact same time you entered it.
And it moves. When you’re traveling east it’s on the east
side of Des Moines and while going west it’s on the west side. Be
proud, Iowa, you have you’re very on Bermuda Triangle.
We
stop in Davenport, Iowa, and meet up with one of Paul’s soccer
buddies for lunch. (Who
was a really nice guy but whose name completely escapes me. All
apologies m’man.)
And who’d a thunk it, Davenport has a Japanese restaurant. Now
I’ve had Chinese, Greek, Jamaican and Vietnamese but I’ve never
had "authentic" Japanese food. I knew I was in trouble
when we pulled up and saw the name of the place - Sayanora.
I’m
in serious trouble as we find a table and I notice there is no
silverware but only chopsticks. Now I would have a better chance of
starting a fire by rubbing those wooden sticks together then eating
with them but I’m willing to try.
I
ordered Beef Teriyaki and after the waitress brought it out my task
began. I harpooned what I could and discovered a nasty little treat
called wasubi and I’ll say it right now, "HOW IN THE HELL DO
YOU EAT RICE WITH A COUPLE OF STICKS!" So my chopstick
experiment ended mostly in failure. And, to be honest, for the
money, the portions were pitifully small but I knew in the back of
my mind that we needed to gas up yet and a wonderful world of
Twinkies, cookies and beef jerky awaited me at the C-Mart.
On
Paul's friend’s advice we also decided on a course change. Instead
of taking I-80 to I-55 and getting lost trying to get to Lake Shore
Drive, like the last time I ventured into Chicago, I-88, despite the
tolls, was a straight shot through the heart of the beast. It takes
you straight to Lake Shore and from Lake Shore we find Sheridan Road
and when we find that we’ve found Evanston and B-Fest. (Wohoo!)
-
- - -
| On
the Toll Road Again |
| so
far so good! |
We
we’re actually making pretty good time and, according to my
precise calculations, we’d hit the Norris Center around 4:30;
plenty of time to meet everyone and get acquainted. (And
yes, I allotted an hour to find a parking spot. My cousin Roxie, a
Chicago native, is right about one thing - a car in Chicago is a
complete nuisance.)
I-88
eventually merges into the Eisenhower Expressway, which is kind of a
misnomer because the traffic moves anything but expressly around
four o’clock on a Friday afternoon blowing my arrival prediction
to smithereens. We inched a long and eventually dumped onto Lake
Shore Drive, which is as scenic as it sounds. We found Sheridan Road
and followed its twists and turns and, as we lost daylight, the map
was becoming more useless but, luckily, we arrived at the campus
right at 5pm.
Now
to find a parking spot.
HA!
-
- - -
| Parking |
| but
I don’t have a #*%@# Parking Permit! |
For
those of you who have never been to Chicago, or any kind of big
city, I will tell you right now, park your car at the airport and
take a cab to wherever you need to go. There is no place to park in
Chicago. You can park but only during certain hours on certain days
and then and only then if you have a special permit and that’s
only good on the weekends.
Aarrgghh!
After
wasting an hour we gave up and decided to risk the parking garage
that is "relatively close" to the Norris Center despite
our lack of an "F" parking permit. We had five minutes to
show time so we’d go in, get our tickets, and ask around to see if
our car was safe.
We
charged in and I plopped down forty bucks, (for
both Paul and me remember)
grabbed a program and a nifty B-Fest cup courtesy of my bosses at Stomp
Tokyo. We went through the double doors of McCormick Auditorium
and entered Shangri-La, if you will, our home for the next 24 hours.
I stopped for a moment and took it all in.
This
was going to be great. I also noticed that everyone else had food
and drinks. The hell?
We had nothing. Oh, well, there’s got to be some vending machines
around here somewhere.
I
hope.
-
- - -
| (Too)
Brief Introductions |
| Hello,
my name is Chad. |
I
spot the good Dr. Freex, and his trademark cane, along the side
aisle and decided that that would be the best place to introduce
myself to the Stomp
Tokyo gang.
Handshakes are exchanged and he introduces me to Staff Sgt. Andrew
of Badmovies.org who
called me a Stomp
Tokyo pod, as in
pod people, which I think is a compliment.
Several
members of the B-Movie Message
Board were there too. I spot Tim "TelstarMan" Lehnerer
(great CD by the way)
by his spiffy green mohawk and between him and Skip "BBanzai"
Mitchell I’m convinced that our car is safe and will still be
where we parked it in the morning. Megalemur
was there, too, and I think there were more of you but, in the rush,
I’m drawing a blank. (Sorry.)
They
announce that the films will be starting soon. It’s pretty crowded
where they’re all sitting so Paul and I retreat to the back of the
theater and stake out some seats of our own. On the way up the aisle
I run right into Chris Holland, one half of the benevolent overlords
of Stomp Tokyo.
I quickly introduced myself again (dang,
I wish we could have gotten here sooner)
and I promise to hopefully move closer as the filmfest progresses.
We
find some seats dead center in the back row. We let some other
fellows in who are hauling in quite a food stash, including a bucket
of hot wings from Hooters, just as the emcee announces that no food
or drink is allowed in McCormick Auditorium. Another group of people
in front of us wheeled in a cooler. All I have is a blanket and in
my bag are my gag papers to give away, some dirty skivvies, my
migraine medication and a small bottle of warm milk in case I got to
take them. Here’s hoping my head stays together. (It
did.)
The
lights dim.
I’m
about to pop my B-Fest cherry. (Note
to self: Next year, bring food.)
Light
this candle.
-
- - -
| The
Crawling Eye |
| and
Tojo’s Revenge! |
Something
sinister is hiding in the fog up the mountain and it’s lopping
people’s heads off so it’s up to Forrest Tucker (where’s
Larry Storch?)
and Janet Munro to save us all. Despite its title and goofy monster
this is actually a pretty good movie. Someone a few rows up had a
great line when the monster is finally revealed through an opened
door and piped up "Excuse me, is this the Dr. Who
audition?" The good guys duck and cover and the Air Force
napalms the horde of Crawling Eyes into oblivion.
The
crowd’s enthusiasm is very contagious and I notice Paul has
disappeared. (He
did this several times and I finally figured out where he went. He
hit the computer lab and was online. He saw the movies he wanted to
see and was happy which made me happy.)
About
half way through the movie, the government cheese, wasubi and
Twinkies pushed my intestinal fortitude past critical mass. Time to
find the john. (Am
I sharing too much here?) On the
way back in I snatch another B-Fest cup. I will continue this snatch
and grab until I have a complete set to replace my fine china. (Which
means I can finally retire my Burger King cups. Thank you Stomp
Tokyo.)
-
- - -
| Gymkata |
| and
exact change please! |
This
movie kills me.
It’s
a vehicle for gymnastic superstar Kurt Thomas. Well, he would have
been a superstar if we hadn't boycotted the '80 Olympics in Moscow.
It’s amazing how much gymnastic equipment mysteriously crops up in
ancient European cities. (Parallel
bars, a pommel horse and the dreaded rings of doom.)
Kurt gymkatas his way into some ballyhooed survival of the fittest
contest where he meets Hercules and they fight Nazis on the moon or
something.
This
used to be a late night staple on TBS so I took the opportunity to
track down a vending machine, bought a pop and started buying peanut
M&Ms. Got two packages, put change in for a third and punched
the buttons, looked back and saw an empty coil screwing and that was
the last of my exact change. (*&^%$!!!)
Back to the theater and another B-Fest cup.
I
catch the end of the movie and personally thank the film for
encouraging the guy two rows up and 5 seats over on the left to
shout "GYMKATA!" at the top of his lungs for the next 8
hours. Man it was funny for the first 7 hours but 8 was just pushing
it a little too far.
-
- - -
| What
is Communism? |
| This
is Communism! |
A
nice little piece of cold war paranoia left over from the 50s. You
too can spot a godless heathen communist with seven easy steps. And
please, once you identify the communist, shoot him or her on sight
before he converts you and yours. Even if you’re only suspicious,
shoot them anyway.
Those
commies are sneaky and deceivious little bastards.
-
- - -
| Technical
Difficulties |
| Please
Stand By! |
The
next movie on the slate was supposed to be Battlefield
Earth but, when the projector fired up,
the film was not only upside down but also backwards, which, not
surprisingly, brought a great cheer from the audience. The lights
came on and the emcee announced that the film could be fixed (dang!)
but would take some time so they’d have to
juggle the schedule around a bit.
-
- - -
| Hardware
Wars |
| May
Black-n-Decker be with you - always! |
Long
before there was Troops
- there was Hardware
Wars.
A
long time ago...in another galaxy...later that same day...Fluke
Starbucker and Ham Salad must save Princess Anne-Droid from the
clutches of Darph Nader. R2-D2 is a vacuum cleaner and Chowchilla,
the wookie monster,
is a cookie monster puppet painted brown and
the spaceships are made out of toasters, waffle irons and bottle
openers.
Somehow,
it all works.
-
- - -
| Message
from Space |
| and
the natives get a little restless! |
Message
from Space is usually confused as a Prince
of Space movie when, in all actuality,
it is a bizarre combination of Fugitive
Alien, The
Power Rangers and The
Dukes of Hazard. It also borrows
heavily from Star Wars
and every other sci-fi movie from the '70s. Personally, I like the
movie (and
will review it here one of these days.)
It has two of my favorite actors in it - Sonny Chiba and Vic Morrow (in
a pimp suit!)
- and lots of great miniature work, eye popping space battles and
general Japanese cinematic carnage, mayhem and insanity.
As
the movie played out, however, it became quite clear that I was in
the minority.
An
evil space overlord in Kabuki makeup invades a peaceful planet of
hippies. The hippies send out a bunch of glowing space walnuts
trusting in fate and prophecy that they will find the chosen ones
who will deliver them from evil. (Sure,
why not.) The chosen ones
include Chiba, Morrow and his Twiki like robot Beebe II. The rest
are four young rocket jockeys who spend most of the movie in a
highly agitated (read: spastic)
state.
The
evil aliens follow the hippie Princess and her space boat to Earth
by converting the entire hippie planet into a rocket ship. They blow
up the moon while she rounds up the chosen ones. They eventually
fight and destroy the evil Kabuki overlord. All the good guys board
the space boat and head off to parts unknown.
I
say "they eventually fight" and I think that’s why the
audience turned against the film. The movie takes its own sweet time
but once it does get going it would stop dead in its tracks and then
meander around for a while. By the time it reached the final battle
the audience didn’t care and just wanted it to be over.
There
were chants of "End!" and I laughed knowing we had a ways
to go yet.
Dang
space walnuts.
-
- - -
| Raffle
Break |
| Skunked
again! |
I
was just two numbers off from winning The
Killer Shrews DVD.
I
start digging out my souvenir Y2k End of the World Special Editions
to hand out to my peers. A little explanation is probably in order.
I work in the composing department for a newspaper. I got stuck
working New Years Eve during the Y2k scare. So I conspired with a
couple of pressmen to print up a fake front page declaring that the
world had indeed ended. Word got out through the B-Movie
Message Board about
them (for
the life of me I don’t remember how)
and I offered to bring some to B-Fest
to give away.
While
I dug, I noticed Freeman "Dr. Freex" Williams motoring
towards me so I presented him with a paper. Next came Joe Bannerman
of Opposable
Thumb Films.
He got a paper and I got a CD. (Thanks
Joe!) We shot the breeze for a
bit and then wandered down towards the rest of the Stomp
Tokyo gang. There I meet the other half
of the benevolent Stomp Tokyo
overlords, Scott Thompson and Chris Diary
of a Tuber Magyar. I can't remember
if Filmboy
was there or not. Jeff if you
were there I hope I said, "hi." (Government
cheese has rotted my brain.)
-
- - -
And
before I go any further I want to say this; The entire Stomp Tokyo
gang, Chris, Scott, Chris M, Joe, Jeff and Freeman are the most
congenial and nicest frigging guys you’ll ever want to meet.
I’ll admit I was a little nervous but there was no reason to be.
Thanks one and all. I’ll also give a shout out to the guys and
gals of the B-Movie Message
Board who attended; Skip, Tim, Lemur and everyone else (I
can see your faces but I can’t remember names. Think Chad. Think.)
who were also very friendly
and cordial and answered all my questions.
-
- - -
I
made the rounds, handed out the rest of the papers and had time to
go and get another soda pop and B-Fest cup before the next film
started. I headed back in and met the gang from The
Brotherhood of Bad Movies and
we shared horror stories of Geocities Hell. Nice guys, go check out
their site.
I
notice a lot of people are lying on the stage as the lights start
to dim so I head back to my seat and I’ve already convinced myself
that I can stay up for the whole flipping thing.
I
open a pack of M&Ms and settle back into my seat.
-
- - -
| The
Wizard of Speed & Time |
| Plus
Time & Speed of Wizard The! |
We’re
starting to get a little surreal here. The
Wizard is a short film about a guy who
runs around at supersonic speed helping ladies cross the street -
among other things. He books around the countryside eventually
tripping on a banana peel that causes him to soar over a jet and fly
into a cave.
I
noted how a lot of people were lying on stage before the film
started. The Wizard
is a B-Fest staple and at some point audience members started going
on stage and banging their feet in rhythm with the soundtrack. Quite
a site.
It
is also a tradition to immediately rerun the film backwards right
after it finishes.
-
- - -
| Plan
9 from Outer Space |
| 'Nuff
Said. |
I
am sick of this
movie. I know it. Tasted it. Backwards and forwards.
I
watched the entire Stomp
Tokyo crew
evacuate the theater after it started to parts unknown. (Did
they know something I didn't?)
I mulled for a moment on following them, skipping Plan
9, and
getting better acquainted but I’m glad I decided to stay put. Once
again the crowd’s enthusiasm won me over. The gentleman with the
hot wings was nice enough to loan me a stack of paper plates to
chuck during strategic moments of the film.
I
stayed out of the whole wicker/rattan debate but gladly joined in on
the Bela/Not Bela and Tor chants. The air was filled with flying
picnic accessories. Kudos to the A&O Film Crew for their
dramatic interpretations staged in front of the movie screen. The
two gentlemen piggybacking in the sleeping bag, doubling as Bela’s
stunt double, was priceless. That was worth sitting through the
Solarnite speech again.
We
of Earth may be idiots with stupid - stupid - minds but at least we
know how to throw a punch. (Plus
five bucks says Eros is a communist.)
-
- - -
| What
Danger Lurks Beyond |
| the
Midnight
Hour? |
| Find
Out in Part
II! |
|
