B-Fest ’02

B-Fest Diary: 2002

It’s Monday evening, January 28^th, 2002. I’ve finally rested, and then sat around for a couple of hours enjoying the quiet. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t trade the hurly-burly of B-Fest weekend for anything. Still, that’s one of the nice things about the event. It’s fun when it starts, it’s fun while it’s happening, and it’s fun after it’s over. Beat that.

This year was a pretty spectacular one. The line-up was top-notch, including one film most everyone utterly hated. (This, actually, has a good side. It can increase focus. That being said, I pretty plan to live the remainder of my life never having watched that picture again.) I just want to take a moment to tip my hat to Justin Vader, the student who organized this year’s Fest, as he did last year. He will graduate this year, passing the torch on to some other extremely lucky/unlucky compatriot.

Moreover, we had a great bunch of people come in again. These included:

The Stomp Tokyo mega site was represented by their founders, Chris Holland and Scott Hamilton, as well as Joe Bannerman from Opposable Thumbs and the eminent Dr. Freex (or Freeman, to us insiders) from The Bad Movie Report. Staff Sergeant Andrew “Don’t call me Sarge” Borntreger, USMC, was also in attendance. Apostic from B-Notes, our Jabootu affiliate site, made the scene. This pleased everyone, as he’s been even more enigmatic than usual lately, after having major surgery last year. Luckily, he seems to have recovered nicely and was the same solid fellow – not a pun, Apostic, I assure you – that he’s always been.

Also on hand was my old and dear compatriot Jeff Witham, flying in as usual from Arizona. Veteran attendee Sue Wright also made the scene, much to everyone’s delight. We also had the honor and pleasure of meeting Lianna Skywalker, author of a notably droll and suitably caustic Battlefield Earth piece we recently posted here. Having met none of us before – and so being ignorant of what a painfully harmless bunch we are — she brought along a friend of hers named Kirsten. I have to admit I didn’t catch Kirsten’s last name, assuming she had proffered it, but nonetheless it was nice of her and Lianna to come in and add some new blood to the proceeding.

Lianna especially threw herself into the spirit of the event. She quickly exhibited a Diet Coke-fueled raw energy that, amongst a group that else wise largely consisted of thirtysomething guys exhibiting various levels of overweightedness, only Andy Borntreger could match. She shouted japes at the screen with as much energy as any other person there and frequently leapt upon the stage to engage in acts of impromptu theater. (One person, of the sort perhaps best described as an asshole, apparently found her exuberance not to his liking. Therefore he anonymously – good thing for him — wrote a very specifically nasty note to her on one of the paper plates heaved around during the saucer scenes in Plan 9. There’s one in every crowd, folks.)

Meanwhile, the crowd was as big as I’ve ever seen – probably as big as I’d ever want to see — and laser pointer users were violently shouted down. Like I said, it was a good year.

There were, of course, glitches, but they proved of minor import. The worst was that I went to Wal-Mart to buy a couple of futons to install in my trailer, hoping to provide a tad more comfort for those staying over at my place. Unfortunately, one of them proved defective – a fact my brother and I learned after very nearly finishing its assembly. Of course, this proved to be an item that Wal-Mart had phased out, so I couldn’t just replace the defective part for another. Hence I was forced to make people sleep on a mattress lying on the floor, which hadn’t been my intent. Better luck next year.

Also, somebody had swiped my car the night before B-Fest, and the front passenger door no longer opens. This could have been problematic, except that three of the guys attending had rented cars, and had all gotten upgrades from what they had originally planned. Apostic got a Saturn, comfortably seating four and with amble trunk space. Andrew ended up with a four-passenger truck featuring a big flatbed compartment. This proved so entirely handy for conveying all our myriad gear that it quickly was decided to obtain such a conveyance next year as well. Meanwhile, Jeff showed up in a passenger van that easily seated six. Between these three vehicles, we were all set.

I want to take a moment to again thank these three guys in particular. I get some overblown credit from my peers for organizing things on this end, but I can only do so because of the help I get from folks like these.

Apostic gamely ferried folks and gear around at my request and slept on a foldout bed in my kitchen without compliant. More sneakily, he paid for eighty dollars worth of gear at Wal-Mart that I was intending to buy, including two boffo coolers, while I was off procuring ice to fill them with. In fact, it was he who sent me off after the ice so as to surreptitiously slip the cashier the money while I was gone. This afforded me new insight into exactly how devious Apostic could be when the mood struck him. Anyway, the coolers and some other gear remain in my house, but their ownership resides elsewhere.

Jeff suffers from being one of my oldest friends, I having known him since high school, and thus the one I can put to the greatest inconvenience. Again, he freely did anything I asked of him without complaint, including finishing up the assembly of the second futon I’d bought. (This, it should be noted, with Andrew’s help.) In fact, Jeff was aggressive in asking me on a regular basis whether there wasn’t more he could be doing. The only thing he wouldn’t do, much like Apostic and Andrew, was allow me to chip for their vehicle rentals. In fact, as I’ve indicated, they kept pressing money on me. Their generosity in this regard, and in many, many others, put my small contributions to the event to shame.

I also want to thank my brother Kevin, who took an afternoon off work so that we could take his van to procure various gear, including the pair of futons. He also took me to Costco, where he had a membership. There I bought, amid other items, a couple of foldout chairs, the kind that fit into carrying cases. Foldout chair technology has come a long way, I learned. These provided enough room for even I to be comfortably seated, which is no small statement. Furthermore, they were quite well padded and came equipped with cup holders. So comfortable were they that I brought them along to the Fest, where they proved quite popular.

Special thanks also to my library co-worker Susan Franke, who lives near the campus and kindly picked me up seven advance tickets, saving me $35 in the process.

Even so, my largest kudos must again go to Andrew Borntreger, who again proved himself a trooper in every possible way. Aside from his great patience with my every ‘request’ and his driving duties, he’s invaluable for being by far the most physically fit of the B-Masters. While the rest of us struggled with pillows and blankets and fold up chairs, he uncomplainingly would grab the heavy stuff, the coolers and cartons of 36 containers of bottled water, and heft them up and then down the stairs in the Norris Center auditorium where the actual Fest is held. Needless to say, he also performed similar duties when it came to loading and unloading the gear into the truck. As well, he’s about the cheeriest guy you could know. One of these years he won’t be able to make it and my job will be three times as hard.

Anyway, after the usual months of planning, the day came. Thursday brought in Apostic, Sue Wright and Andrew. Sue’s afternoon flight came in shortly after Apostic’s, so he was kind enough to bring her along with him as he procured his rental car, saving me a trip to the airport. He first had a bit of trouble finding her, however, resulting both in some three-way phone tag and some rueful gags regarding some earlier misadventures the two had suffered at O’Hare a couple of years ago. (At my hand, it must be noted.) Apparently some minor curse is involved.

They eventually found one another, though, and made it to my house. We had dinner at a nice little steakhouse, which Sue very kindly picked up the tab. Then, with Apostic at the wheel, we drove her down to the hotel room she’d rented near the campus. Her plan was to get a nice night’s rest, show up at the Fest, and then depart during the late evening / early morning section of things to the comfort of her lodgings. Thus did she return Saturday morning not only refreshed, but having missed the infamous film that so tormented the rest of us.

Apostic and I then headed back to my place, where we awaited Andrew’s arrival. Unfortunately, he was somewhat delayed, and didn’t arrive until well after midnight. We talked a bit and then hit the hay.

The next day Andrew, Apostic and I headed over to the L & L Snackshop, a local legend for their breakfasts. Then we did some last minute shopping, including for the coolers that Apostic paid for. By the time we returned to my place, Jeff had arrived and made himself comfortable. Noting the capabilities of the various vehicles at my disposal, I decided to forgo bringing my somewhat incapacitated car, figuring that a three-car convoy would be easier to manage than a four-car one. And so we headed to Superdawg for a last hot meal, where Andrew wisely forewent the tamales that had so plagued him the year before. Unfortunately, though, we failed to stop to get the sub sandwich Andrew had wanted to bring to the Fest with us. One thing he asked of me and I blew it. And so it goes.

Eventually we made it down to Norris. Andrew and Jeff got separated from Apostic’s lead car, but the way was simple and they had no trouble catching up with us. Then the laborious unpacking began, again with Andrew and Jeff doing all the grunt work. Inside we met the Stomp Tokyo guys, the main party of which had arrived at Midway that afternoon and taken a limo down to the Fest. (I did very little airport driving this year, which was fine by me.) Joe Bannerman, meanwhile, arrived with Skip Mitchell, a Chicagoan who writes for his site, as well as Skip’s wife – who’s name eludes me, sorry — and their friend Jennie. Sue Wright then showed up from her hotel.

A number of us had comp tickets, due to various sites paying money to sponsor films at the Fest. Meanwhile, I’d bought a number of pre-sale tickets – five bucks cheaper a shot – and handed them out to those who needed them. Eventually I had two left over (good at math I’m not), plus the two comp tickets. So I gave a pair of them to Julie Quandt, an old high school acquaintance who flew in from Iowa to attend the event, and her husband Tim. The two comp tickets I left at the desk for Lianna and Kirsten, who didn’t arrive by the time the show started.

Meanwhile, a couple of extremely nice fellows came up and identified themselves as readers of our site. This is, the record shows, the second time this has ever happened to me. I also introduced them to some of the other Cabal members, and they seemed suitably impressed. B-Fest is undoubtedly the only event I could go to where perhaps dozens of people in attendance had actually visited us.

Our gear in place, our group split up the way it generally has come to. The Stomp Tokyo guys, like Chris and Scott and Freeman, would sit a couple of rows back, due to the limited seating available up front. The rest of us congregated down there, where there was plenty of room for coolers and sleeping bags and fold up chairs and the Tower of Snacks. However, it should be noted that the Stompers would occasionally migrate down for a movie or two to hang out. All in all, everything worked out well.

Eventually the time came and Justin came out to introduce things. There were also numerous raffles and such, mostly for gear provided by the Stomp Tokyo guys, who now have a sort of official liaison role with the Fest. (They also provided their usual plastic tumblers as giveaways for all the attendees.) Then the films began.

Our first feature was the actually quite good and yet enjoyably silly The Crawling Eye. (1958) It was the perfect beginning film, setting up plenty of opportunity for jokes, whether about the goofy knit caps on display, or the female lead’s purported psychic powers, or the way everyone was constantly smoking and drinking. In the middle of this Lianna and Kirsten made their appearance. Lianna immediately began smacking me over my proclivity for bad puns, before giving up the cause as hopeless. (Bad ‘eye’ puns being a dime a dozen. I also noted that a steel grate lowering to protect a window made me ‘shutter.’)

One running bit established here involved the constant ‘ominous’ insert shots of a mountain, to which the audience would ritually react with a lusty scream of mock terror. After that any movie featuring a mountain view got the same treatment. Meanwhile, Joe kept loudly noting how far into the film we were without having seen any of the title creatures, who actually only show up for the last ten minutes or so. Still and all, this is a pretty good movie, and is now available on DVD for those so inclined.

The second film was Gymkata (1985), at which I groaned, as I find that one quite boring. Actually, it didn’t seem that bad this time, probably because it was playing so early. Olympic gymnast Kurt Thomas is a master of the vague art of Gymkata (which involves, as the film’s tagline tells us, “The skill of Gymnastics…the kill of Karate”). This generally means he flips around a lot and occasionally kicks someone.

Made in the Reagan ‘80s, the film follows the always ineffectual-looking Thomas as he travels to Fakeastan, or somesuch mythical ‘middle European’ country, where the US wants to set up a Star Wars missile detection site. The audience was making so much noise throughout this that the plot details got lost, and when a film-ending crawl mentioned that the base was to be put into place, the crowd reacted with vocal confusion.

Thomas, actually, is more concerned with learning the fate of his secret agent dad, who we saw get killed in the beginning of the film. He also falls in love with the kingdom’s princess. Eventually, to win the base and the girl, Thomas must join the kingdom’s traditional Deadly Game. (That’s right, it’s another Most Dangerous Game rip-off.) This is a trek where contestants are hunted and killed by ninjas (?!). The winner, however, can ask for anything he wishes, like setting up an American military base there.

Thomas’ mock kung fu antics are seldom convincing, and he has a hilarious habit of running into makeshift parallel bars and pommel horses when the need arises. (The former of which magically appears between two buildings as he’s being chased by assassins. Watch the chalk fly off the thing as he spins around on it while bashing his pursuers.) The one Giant Evil Guy trying to kill him is dispatched, meanwhile, with little help from Our Hero. First Thomas dodges and lets the guy catch an arrow, later the dude is hacked up by the homicidal population of the film’s hilarious City of the Insane, an ancient village who’s inhabitants should have killed each other off centuries ago.

I did like the part, however, where the contestants where being chased through a cornfield. I got laughs with my impression of the hunting horns from Planet of the Apes here, as well as groans from noting that the characters were being ‘stalked.’ I also laughed upon being reminded that the film was adapted from the novel The Terrible Game, an all-too accurate title.

Here we got our now *sigh* traditional showing of What is Communism? As usual, a number of us, including Apostic and Jeff, retreated to the lobby until the whole thing blew over. Luckily the piece was only shown once this year, unless there was an encore while I was out Saturday afternoon.

Following this was the, for me, nostalgic pleasure of Hardware Wars, a short parody of Star Wars no doubt familiar to any film buff about my age. It’s funny, twenty-odd years later and its still about the best one I’ve seen. Chewchila the Wookie Monster (a Cookie Monster puppet died brown) is worth it alone.

The third film was meant to be Battlefield Earth, which I sponsored for the Jabootu site. Lianna, unsurprisingly, was much excited over this. However, the film arrived with the reels all mixed-up, including being backward and upside down. (A cosmic joke, perhaps.) So this feature was to be delayed while some audience members, including Lianna, helped them figure out how to fix the problem.

Here I figured that, given the way Murphy’s Law worked, it would be shown while I was gone from the Fest. That’s right, for the first time in my many years of B-Fest attendance I was going to miss part of the show. A high school acquaintance of mine had tragically passed away recently, and a memorial service was to be held Saturday afternoon. My old friend Andrew Muchoney provided transport to this, and Jeff and Julie and I left the Fest Saturday afternoon at about 12:30, returning about 4:00. I was right, anyway, and Battlefield Earth ultimately played at noon, meaning that I saw about ten minutes of it before spending time in the washroom getting appropriately dressed and then departing.

But that was still in the future. Instead of Bad late 90’s Sci-Fi Action, we got Bad ’late 70 Sci-Fi Action. The next feature was the immensely confusing Japanese Star Wars rip-off Message from Space (1978). About all I can tell you is that there was cosmic glowing walnuts and that the film made not a tick of sense. Vic Morrow’s walnut, unsurprisingly, shows up in a whiskey tumbler. He wears a very ugly fur coat and a bad hat; the latter because he hadn’t met John Landis yet and still had his head. Actually, now that I think of it, many of the clothes here were awful.

Ah, some of it’s coming back. Here’s my impression: A samurai Darth Vader, bad f/x, an embarrassed Sonny Chiba, horrible clothes, guys who flip burgers for a living but can buy outer space hot rods and engage in action reminiscent of a futuristic version of The Dukes of Hazzard, and glowing cosmic walnuts. A bad midget robot, like the one on the ‘80s Buck Rodgers TV show. Also a comic relief outer space traffic cop who dies a horrible death. It was very loud and confusing, and the audience loved it. This was also the movie sponsored by the B-Masters’ Cabal as a whole. It also had the audience spending the last ten or fifteen minutes of the film yelling “END! END! END!”

Following this was our first showing of the rather more enjoyable Wizard of Speed and Time. Sure enough, Lianna joined the other attendees lying on the crowded stage, stamping their feet in time to the Wizard’s travels. Then, per the tradition, the film was shown again, only backwards and upside down.

Next up was Plan 9 From Outer Space (1958), the very heart and soul of B-Fest. I stayed long enough to toss around the requisite paper plates, while holding my flannel shirt over my head to protect me from the barrage. This proved a good idea, as Andrew Borntreger caught a plate in the bridge of his nose, resulting in a cut. Note to self: Next year, pack bandages. Eventually, though, I grew tired, and having seen Plan 9 literally thirty times or more, napped through the last half. By the way, it’s wicker.

They moved the Blaxploitation classic Coffy (1973) into the next slot, although at one point it was scheduled to appear late Saturday afternoon. This Pam Grier/Jack Hill extravaganza features Grier murdering her way through the ranks of the drug-pushing operation that turned her young sister into a vegetable. The cast included such B-Movie faves as Allan Arbush – who played the zoot-suited Jesus in Greaser’s Palace, Andrew Borntreger’s favorite movie and which was shown at B-Fest the previous year – and veteran heavy Sid Haig. This was a really gritty, brutal and well-made piece, featuring such sights as Grier hiding razor blades in her hair before engaging in a catfight. When her opponent tried to pull on her hair – ouch!! Also watch for Grier’s hilarious attempt at a Jamaican accent at one point. Great stuff.

Can Hieronymous Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe and Find True Happiness? (1969.) ‘Hieronymous Bosch’ more accurately calls the film to mind. Anyway, it was the next film, and it joined such epics as You Are What You Eat and The Film That Must Not Be Named in the infamous B-Fest Hall of Shame. Yea gods, what utter crap. Anthony Newley, supposed showbiz Renaissance Man, wrote, directed and starred in this ‘surreal’ ‘60s musical fiasco. Mr. Newley is hardly unknown in the field of Jabootuish cinema, having starred in such gems as the Rex Harrison Dr. Doolittle, the Dave Thomas/Sally Kellerman version of Boris and Natasha, starred opposite Sandy Dennis in the original Sweet November, and ended his cinema career with The Garbage Pail Kids. Even better, we get to see his naked ass a lot here. Thank you, Mr. Newley, you sadistic bastard.

Newley stars as a showbiz guy who sleeps with lots of women, due to the efforts of the Devil (Milton Berle, no surprise there). However, he never finds happiness. And neither, believe me, do the viewers. At one point, because he’s a puppet of Fate or something, Newley flops around in clown make-up and with strings on him. A naked lady frolics with a donkey during a musical number. George Jessel appears in a white suit and parasol, grimly telling bad jokes. He’s Death, or God, or Something. Joan Collins appears in a film not even good enough to have her in it. (She was married to Newley at the time, poor woman. Meanwhile, his young daughters play Merkin’s young daughters here and receive third and forth billing. Sins of the Father, I guess.)

Now, one of my failings is that I’m too dense to enjoy surrealistic cinema. Hence I didn’t get that much out of last year’s Greaser’s Palace. Even so, I got the idea that the folks who made it at least had some idea of what the film meant. Not so here. It’s all very smug and generally proved excruciating for those of us who bulled their way through it rather than finding sweet surcease in sleep. (I mean, look at the film’s title for Pete’s sake. Mercy Humppe? Gee, that’s deep.) Read Dr. Freex’s review for a taste, but track down this film at your own danger. For what it’s worth, Andy Borntreger, who adored Greaser’s Palace, hated this film with a singular passion. He spent the first half of the film yelling “F*** YOU, MOVIE!” The latter half of the film prompted instead primal screams of rage and frustration. I think he actually liked Sextette better.

Between reels (?) of Merkin they showed was a really gross porno cartoon. Again, not my thing, to say the least. The hatred of Merkin, however, was so palpable that many of us hoped this to be a sign that we were to be spared the last part of the film. Instead, they restarted it after the cartoon was over. Marquis De Sade, thou art revenged.

Next up was the beloved ‘50s cheesefest The Slime People. Having just had my ass kicked by Merkin, though, I slept through it. Been there, done that, have the DVD.

However, I had to get up for the early Jabootu subject The Lonely Lady (1983). Ah, Pia Zadora, where have you gone? We love you so much. If I followed what Chris Holland told me (brains don’t always work well during B-Fest weekend), the Stomp Tokyo guys actually paid the full rental fee of this movie to bring it to the Fest. Jabootu bless those fellows. No use going back over this, those that are interested can read my review. Boy, I love this movie.

Test Tube Babies (1953). And enjoyable ‘educational’ film about artificial insemination. This all sets up a hilarious (and surprisingly racy) long sequence in which the innocent heroine’s house party turns into an orgy. Particularly good is the awful actress trying to play a sophisticated Tallulah Bankhead-type broadway star. She ends up in a catfight with another woman who’s been doing a striptease and ends up topless. Very funny stuff, although you couldn’t hear much of the drop-dead funny dialog because of audience noise.

Corpse Grinders (1972). See what I said regarding The Slime People. Sweet, sweet sleep.

Breakfast Break. This was an expanded forty-five minute break, but it occurred before the Norris cafeteria opened at 11:00. (Admittedly, in the past the cafeteria was open earlier. This will be missed.) The idea was good, but should have been scheduled at 11:00, or at noon and called a lunch break.

Breakin’. (1984) This year’s Greatest Movie Ever Made. Lucinda Dickey, where have you gone?* In one fabulous year you star in this, Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo and Ninja III: The Domination. After that it’s three years until you appear in the direct to video Cheerleader Camp, then three years more before you have a cameo in a Perry Mason telepic. Then nothing? Perhaps you can come back in a cop buddy film co-starring Pia Zadora.

“Hi, this is Lucinda Dickey of Breakin’ & Ninja III The Domination. In reply to a reviewer on this site, I would just like to inform him and others that I am currently living in California and I am remarrying to a great guy and that I have three lovely children. I have not had anything to do with Hollywood for some time now and i am just enjoying life. It is great to see so many fans out there that still remember the Breakin’ movies, they were so much fun to make and it’s even nicer to see the popularity they have amongst you all.”

Further information on her short but fondly remembered acting career can be found at http://www.lucindadickey.com]

Still, at least we have one preserved scene of her wearing a tuxedo top matched with fishnet stockings. Rahhr. This was made after Flashdance, right? Too bad the main characters didn’t really dance that well, but hey, we got an embarrassing appearance by Christopher McDonald. Hey, was this maybe made in the ‘80s? I don’t know, I got that vibe. Anyway, I nominate Lorenzo Lamas’ Body Rock for this slot next year.

Battlefield Earth (2000). As noted, I missed this. Lianna represented Jabootu.

Tarantula (1952). Missed it, dammit. First giant bug movie ever at B-Fest, and I miss it. My favorite sub-genre, too. Plus it stars Mara Corday! Arggh.

The Mummy (1959). This is the Hammer Peter Cushing/Christopher Lee version. Returned to B-Fest halfway through it, missing the terrific resurrection scene. Great stuff, though. Ever since I was a kid I’ve loved the scenes where Cushing shoots the mummy and actually blows holes through it. In the ‘50s this was quite graphic, still being a time when people who were shot just grabbed their shirts, went “Uhhhh!”, and fell over.

Godzilla 2000. This is a really fun movie, but I caught it like five times when it was in the theaters a bit ago. Still, how can you complain? Some of this is great stuff, but weariness was catching up with me.

And so, roughly twenty-four hours after we’d begun, the show was over. I had been somewhat dreading this moment, as the auditorium was simply trashed. A couple of years ago our group was about the only one to stay around for clean-up duty, and if this had occurred again we’d have been there awhile. However, lots of folks pitched in and made light work of it. Even so, I found that I should have brought more than seven large garbage bags with. Next year, I’ll bring ten.

Next we to reload our gear and people, give various folks directions, and head out to Paul and Holly Smith’s condo. The last two years we’d used my Mom’s house for this, but she retired to Kentucky last year and so this wasn’t an option. Even so, the place proved big enough for our purposes, which basically included yakking in small groups, watching Brainiac on DVD and Apostic’s Weird Al Yankovic video collection, and eating pizza.

Chris Holland took on the pizza duties — during which he assembled a pizza preferences database, now recorded on his PDA — ordering enough pizzas that at least four of them now reside in my oven – it’s now Wednesday morning — tucked away and awaiting garbage pick-up tomorrow. (When I later mentioned the plethora of pizza, he wearily raised an eyebrow and noted that it was likely to be either too many pizzas or too few. And his instincts were right, anyway; B-Fest is an event marked by its excess.)

Meanwhile, Andy, Jeff (I think), Sue and I ran out to Binny’s Beverage Depot to pick up an array of liquor and soda – including Lianna’s desperately sought Diet Coke. (When we returned, she attacked the carton like a Killer Shrew, and all but sat upon it to make sure it didn’t disappear on her.) Then we took Sue to her hotel, getting her safely checked in before returning to the party. This went off without a hitch, and we made our return in short order.

Memories of the rest of the evening are, as you might suspect, few. Eventually Apostic, Jeff (who took the mattress on the floor; sorry, dude), Andrew and Chris Holland and I returned to my trailer, dropping off Sue at her hotel on the way. Of this I have no memories, being well past midnight – 1:00? 2:00? I couldn’t say – and I hit the hay.

To arise Sunday morning about 7:00, so as to drive back to Paul’s to pick up Lianna and Kirsten. (Luckily, Paul’s house is a short ten-minute drive from my house.) All of us sort of mumbled at one another, our conversational circuits not exactly being in their best condition. I dropped them at the Rosemont El station, where they grabbed the Blue Line to within a couple blocks of Union Station. (Luckily the weather was almost insanely clement this weekend; it much has hit 60∫ this weekend. Luckily we entirely missed the huge snowstorm due to begin later today.) There they would grab their Amtrak train home. I thanked them for coming, offered my hopes that they’d return, and so our Fellowship began to break apart.

Eventually we picked up Sue from her hotel – wish is situated about five hundred yards down from my trailer – and then went and collected the remainder of the folks over at Paul & Holly’s. (Jeff, meanwhile, had taken off in his van to rejoin his wife for their flight back home. See you, dude.) Sue had smartly suggested I call the restaurant we were planning to breakfast at and see if we could make a reservation. We could, and did. Soon we had packed eleven people into a table meant for ten and began ordering our food. Our waiter had a time of it, as someone apparently had requested separate checks.

The most memorable thing to come out of breakfast was that Scott ended up with a number of platters of food; resulting in the waiter having some sport with him over his apparently prodigious appetite. Of course, the rest of us gleefully leapt upon this opening, and made Scott the butt of similarly themed jokes for the rest of the weekend. Thus someone’s large, overstuffed duffel was theorized to be “Scott’s lunch.” His reactions to this japery pretty sum up the concept of ‘long-suffering.’

Then it was back to my place, where we packed the area in front of the TV. Chris Holland dug out a fan Star Wars movie, which while faulty in some areas had some eye-poppingly good visual effects. I think we watched some other stuff, and then I dug out my copy of Sea Serpent. To my pleasure, few of any of my comrades had seen this one before and the film proved popular. The overall cuteness of the monster was much noted; as was a rather goofy courtroom scene wherein the two opposing attorneys were constantly shouting, “I object!” This proved to be the catchphrase we’d all been searching for this weekend; it’s only too bad we hadn’t seen the movie either before or at B-Fest. Anyway, the line got a good workout thereafter.

By now it was mid-afternoon, with Joe and Chris Magyar due to be dropped off at the El Station and Sue at O’Hare (my only airport run all weekend – yay!) around 5:00. Joe mentioned wanting to hit Superdawg before we left, so we all trooped out there. Sue nicely took a picture of us website type before the Superdawg statues, with the others strategically placing me in the foreground. Since I’m fatter than any other of the guys, this resulted in the rest of them looking extra svelte. Anyway, we then dropped off the indicated individuals and again headed back to my abode.

Everyone still here was in for the night. This included Apostic, Andrew, Chris Holland, Scott and Freeman. It was, needless to say, a good crew. We watched some more videos, including Master of the Flying Guillotine (aka, as Freeman explained, One-Armed Boxer 2), which proved a brilliant choice. Then Andrew and I took a run to O’Hare — OK, that’s right, two airport runs — to return his truck to the fine folks at the Budget rental agency. (There, maybe that’ll get us a discount next year.) When we returned we watched something else, but I kept falling asleep and so went to bed around 10:30. After I did so, the others searched and searched and finally dug out my copy of It Came From Hollywood, a film I had myself suggested watching. A documentary on Bad Movies, I thought it would provide a good trivia contest, as the numerous film clips were unidentified as they paraded across the screen. Unfortunately, I missed my chance to test my mettle against my associates. I can only assume that Freeman handily won the contest.

I got up to see off Andrew and Mark, who left circa 7:00 AM to return Mark’s rental car and then hit their respective flights at O’Hare. The next person to go was Freeman, due at the El at about 7:50. (I think I got him there late; I hope he didn’t experience problems because of that.) When the original plans were made, Chris and Scott were due at Midway at the same time, so that they could travel down together. The latter two’s flight time was changed by the airline however, so Freeman traveled alone. Now that I think about it, this was a good thing. Again, my injured car allowed for only two passengers at a time, so juggling three would have been a feat.

Back to my place, where the soul survivors, Chris and Scott, had raided my video room and dug out Larry Buchanan’s Mistress of the Apes. Scott had much sport with my fastidiousness, as I recoiled from the various rape and bestiality themes. However, the best moment was watching their reactions when the amazingly goofy “Mistress of the Apes” theme song started up. Believe me, it’s a doozy.

Following this we repaired to breakfast, then returned to watch most of the wondrous Sting of Death, a pristine copy of which is available on a fabulous DVD double bill with the same director’s Death Curse of Tartu. Chris and Scott were both much impressed, especially with the awesome “Do the Jellyfish” song provided by none other than Neil Sedaka. I believe both indicated that they intended to pick up the disc after sampling some of its wares.

Then the time came, and we drove off to the El station. I bid farewell to these noble gentleman, then returned home and fell blissfully into my bed. Eventually I awoke later that night to begin this very article, and here we are.

And so another spectacular B-Fest has drawn to a conclusion. Much thanks to everyone who attended, and to Justin and those who actually brought this year’s Fest about. Just to be a pushy Parker, though, I stopped by the Swank film distributors website the other day and assembled the following list of available feature. Pretty much all of these, according to my memory, have never been featured there during any of the twelve or more Fests I’ve attended. Here’s hoping that at least a couple of them will be on display next year:

Amityville Horror 3 / Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman / Baron Blood / Black Belt Jones / Black Caesar / Body Rock / Can’t Stop the Music / Change of Habit / The Concorde – Airport ’79 / Curse of the Undead / Deadly Mantis / Death Wish III / Enter the Ninja / Five Fingers of Death / Girls in the Night / Godzilla Vs. Mothra / Happy Hooker / Happy Hooker Goes Hollywood / Happy Hooker Goes to Washington / Howard the Duck / Hypnotic Eye / Island of Terror / King Kong Escapes / King Kong vs. Godzilla / Lambada / The Land Unknown / Mac & Me / Macabre / Magnetic Monster / Madam Sin / Mitchell / Monolith Monsters / Monster on the Campus / Mysterious Island / Night Monster / The Night Walker / Nine Deaths of the Ninja / Pufnstuf / Queen of Outer Space / The Raven (1963) / Slaughter / The Swarm / Strange Brew / Tentacles / Terror in the Wax Museum / Thing that Couldn’t Die / Them! / The Thing with Two Heads / Walking Tall / War of the Worlds / Yor The Hunter from the Future