Blonde Death is a stunning piece of outsider art/trash cinema. Made in 1984 by first (and only) time director James Robert Baker – aka James Dillinger – the shot-on-VHS movie is Badlands by way of a soap opera. Baker was a member of an early- ‘80s L.A. art collective called EZTV, and he was a prolific author of, as Wikipedia describes it, “sharply satirical, predominantly gay-themed transgressional fiction.” Shot with a budget of $2000 of his own money, Blonde Death has an air of Tennessee Williams about it, albeit unapologetically queer and gloriously transgressive.
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As I type this, I’m getting ready to reserve my tickets for day three of the fest before making the short trek to the theater for day two’s first screening. On the docket for today is my first documentary, Scala!!!, a Fantastic Fest original found footage festival, two more 2023 releases, The Origin and What You Wish For, and I’ll wrap things up at midnight with a 1984 repertory screening of Blonde Death.
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This will be a short one; day one of the fest is more like a quarter day, with the opening film of the festival – Macon Blair’s The Toxic Avenger – and a few other titles starting at 8 P.M. Other titles playing in the 8 P.M. block are The Animal Kingdom, Baby Assassins 2, #Manhole, and Messiah of Evil. There are three titles in the midnight round tonight, Sleep, In My Mother’s Skin, and Divinity.
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It’s that time of year again! I’m ready to kick off Spooky Season 2023 in grand style with a trip to Austin, TX for Alamo Drafthouse’s Fantastic Fest Film Festival, which programs the wildest, most bonkers horror, sci-fi, fantasy, and cult genre films out there.
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I had an absolute blast covering Fantastic Fest 2022. I’m writing this post-mortem to get the final stats on the record and to mention the standouts I saw that I haven’t proselytized yet.
By the numbers:
I saw 17 short films at the fest and 28 features, for a total of 45 titles over 7.5 days.
Here’s the breakdown by day:
Day 1: 2 features, 9 shorts
Day 2: 3 features, 1 short
Day 3: 3 features
Day 4: 4 features
Day 5: 4 features, 1 short
Day 6: 5 features, 1 short
Day 7: 3 features, 2 shorts
Day 8: 4 features, 3 shorts
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Me, upon waking up Saturday morning: “I could use a light entry into the screenings today. I hope the choice I made yesterday is kind of tame.”
Checks phone; sees first screening is titled Flesheater.
Also me: “Well, shit.”
Day three was the first day I didn’t leave the theater for the entire day, apart from stepping outside to get some fresh air between screenings. I arrived at 11am and didn’t leave until almost twelve hours later. One of the great things about a film festival at Alamo Drafthouse is access to a full menu for every screening, meaning you never have to leave to get food.
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I felt the lack of sleep I got after day one of the fest in my bones every single minute of day two. Because of it, I made a decision that will cause me to break the promise I made to you only 72 hours ago. I’m out on the midnight (or near midnight) screenings going forward. Threeish hours of sleep a night is simply not enough for me to function. Abandoning any plan or part of a plan always makes me feel a bit like a failure, but then I remembered something. This is supposed to be fun, damn it! Plus, no one is paying me to do this, hence no one is telling me what to do, hence I can make this experience anything I want it to be.
I saw five movies – three features and two shorts – on day two. After writing and publishing the post for day one, grabbing a shower, and heading back to Alamo Drafthouse South Lamar, I was immediately treated to my favorite film of the fest so far.
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Here’s how much of a creature of habit I am. The filmmaker Q&A for the last screening I attended last night at day 1 of Fantastic Fest ended a few minutes after 1:45am. By the time I got back to my host’s house – major thanks to the amazing Melody Smith, who has graciously opened her home to me during the fest – and had unwound enough to drop off to sleep, 2:30 was rearing its ugly head. Yet, right on schedule, my eyes popped open at 5:30, as they do most mornings. I was able to catnap for another 45 minutes before accepting the inevitable and starting my day.
After arriving in Austin mid-afternoon yesterday and securing my press badge, I settled in to my temporary home base with a little over four hours to kill before the first round of screenings. The good people of Fantastic Fest must have sensed I had a few free hours, because they sent me an email telling me six new films were available for me to watch via streaming as part of the Fantastic Fest @ Home option.
Might as well get an early start!
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I have some exciting news that I’ve been sitting on until now. A few months ago, I was approved for credentials to cover this year’s Fantastic Fest Film Festival as a member of the press! This will be the first film festival I’ve ever attended from start to finish while also screening as many movies as physically (and, it should be noted, psychologically) possible.
The closest I’ve ever come to completing this Mecca-like pilgrimage for cineastes is working as a volunteer for the Oak Cliff Film Festival in my own back yard almost a decade ago. Since I was working as a volunteer, though, I was only able to attend a few screenings. My coverage of Fantastic Fest will be a completely different experience.
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I’m reposting an essay from the archives this week — what the olden days of TV would call a “rerun,” forcing me to wonder if kids today would be as confused as Milton Baines was about what a rerun is — because, quite frankly, life kicked my ass this past week. I was already leaning toward taking a week off.
The decision was made for me when I broke out in an allergic reaction rash all over my body. It has been excruciating. After suffering the worst itch you could possibly imagine last weekend — there is no way I could have focused enough to be able to write a coherent review — I finally got myself to a dermatologist, who prescribed me a round of steroid pills to beat the allergic reaction into submission. I also have no idea what caused this, so I’m about as anxious as the newscasters in Batman ‘89 of using any products on my body, lest the Joker poison me again. I still have fairly angry looking rash spots across my body, but, mercifully, the worst of the itching has subsided, although, it’s still there. Then, I bricked my phone on Wednesday when it slipped out of my hand as I was setting it down.
So, enjoy a golden oldie this week. Odds are you missed it the first time around. What follows is the essay I wrote after attending a screening of the complete Man with No Name trilogy. I picked this one because I enjoyed writing it and it was the first not-strictly-a-movie-review piece that I ever wrote for my site. I originally published it on June 19, 2015. I had been writing film criticism for six months at that point, so please be kind when considering my skill level. I am simply reposting it without a fresh round of edits because… I’m itchy.
Peace.
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I got up from my seat in the theater and did the math. I spent eight solid hours – a full work day – in a dark room with no windows watching Sergio Leone’s tribute to, and redefining of, the Hollywood Western genre. Most people would probably call me crazy, but I was hardly alone in the theater. There were 50 or so of us taking advantage of the special screening offered by the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema chain, which was celebrating Clint Eastwood’s 85th birthday by screening Leone’s Dollars Trilogy: A Fistful of Dollars (1967), For a Few Dollars More (1967), and the epic The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1967). Three iconic films shown back-to-back-to-back, paired with all you could eat spaghetti. What did I get out of the experience, you might ask? Did I gain any new insight into the movies, myself, or life in general? I’m not sure that I did, but I can tell you I had a hell of a lot of fun either way.
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