The B-Fest started, as it always does for Rob and I, with us making a very long journey. Luckily, both of us having jobs, we had enough money to fly ourselves from Maryland to Chicago, thereby saving us 11 hours. Unfortunately we were both pretty damn tired from having jobs (more on this later), so it was pretty much a toss up. I'm still wrestling with the job/no job paradox (I'm leaning toward no job), but that's just me.

We came up in the afternoon and didn't have too much time for anything except to get our schedules and snacks for the fest. We ate a quick dinner and then headed off to the Norris Center for the time of our lives.

The setup was somewhat confusing this year. The A&O Film Board operators were a little bit late and it took a while for people to start showing up. I think Ken Begg (of Jabootu's Bad Movie Dimension fame) was picking up some friends, so we were wandering a bit until we met up with some guys who actually knew who we were. Here's the gist (word for word transcriptions of this conversation can be obtained from the Federal Document Clearinghouse):

Rob: "Hi, I'm Rob, and that's Alan."

3 Guys: "Hey, nice to meet you. This is (name withheld because I forgot), and (sorry, I really forgot), and our friend (really, you guys were nice, sorry about forgetting your names -- one of you guys works for torgo.net though, right?). Have you guys come before?"

Rob: "Yeah, we were here last year. We're sort of bad movie fans. We actually, uhh, have a site .. called Oh, the Humanity"

3 Guys: "Oh, we know that site! We though you guys were dead. It hasn't been updated for months!"

Me and Rob: "Uh - sorry - yeah, well we had some things come up (sorry) and uh, you know.. sorry"

Which is pretty much how the evening of introductions went (sorry!). Our plan to lay low was busted, but eventually the ticket sellers showed up and things started moving. The doors opened and we rushed down the bottom left, a row behind the front (our spot, man -- and don't you try to take it -- unless you're meaner than us or know how to distract us with candy).

After everyone was nice and comfortable, the lights dimmed and Fiend Without a Face hit the screen. This was an excellent choice, and though I'd seen it before I was right there singing "Fiend without a face, got no human grace, fiend without a fay-hace!" with everyone else. It was great to have a rollicking "flying brain" movie right at the start.

Next came The Spider. Maybe other attendees have a different opinion, but I felt this selection looks better on paper than it does in real life. A giant spider attacking townsfolk flick sounds perfect for the B-Fest, yet the film was boringly repetitive that we had to keep reusing the same jokes. I think we had the special edition director's cut, because I haven't seen so many shots of the same cave since Marshall, Will and Holly went on a routine expedition. The highlight was definitely the classic scene where the spider comes back to life in a high school gym where "hep" kids are jitterbugging. Oh baby!

The Spider finally came to a close and next we had: The Fearless Vampire Killers. I'm not sure how well "spoofs" play at the B-Fest, and I can't say this one did anything great. I felt the whole time like there were people out there who must love this movie a lot, and although I'm not one of them, it was (in my opinion) too well put together to have a great time with. Which is not to say the audience didn't make fun of it. My guess is that there was a unwritten rule that Sharon Tate jokes were iffy but Roman Polanski was absolutely fair game (although we B-Festers aren't known for our sensitivity when it comes to riffing.)

Return of the Ape Man, starring (in a way) Bela Lugosi and John Carradine can be best described as a study in two guys going in and out of a cage. In between the crowd yells of "Bela", the audience and I spent most of our time wondering just what was with that tiny blowtorch the late Mr. Lugosi was carrying around, threatening people with. "Ape Man no like tiny fire! Scared you put tiny hole in Ape Man's new leather couch!" The moral of the story: If you love an Ape Man very much, set him free -- if he comes back and kills your lab assistant, he was never yours in the first place.

Then it was midnight. What can you say about Plan 9 From Outer Space? I won't even try. Everyone knows it's supposed to be the worst movie ever (a good portion like to tell us so in daily emails). Just see it for yourself. For those of you who have never experienced it at B-Fest, you can get an idea of the initial impressions I had from last year. The jokes don't differ that much, but I was very happy to see that the growing tradition of writing amusing phrases on the paper plates was widespread this year. On the other hand, my growing certainty that the wicker/rattan debate is a bizarre cover-up choreographed by cane furniture manufacturers has drawn unwanted attention from certain secret government operatives. Ssshh... I can't talk now. Meet me at the Dairy Queen at 8:30 and we'll talk then. The password is "Can you put extra nuts on that?" Plan 9 was great, though. Just 4 or 5 more viewings and I'll start paying attention to what would have been supposed to be happening if someone had cared when it was written. The big question that I have -- why is the space girl always glancing quickly at her breasts? I mean, I know why I'm always glancing quickly at her breasts, but...

Then I miscalculated. I figured that Zardoz, the mind-numbing journey of Sean Connery toward mid-life career crisis (in a diaper or loincloth, take your pick), would stultify the crowd into dead tiredness. Now, having seen, digested, and gotten an ulcer from viewing Zardoz before, I figured I would nap while the rest of the crowd beat up their brains on it quietly. Boy, was I wrong. I awoke in the middle to the roar of the audience who seemed to be captivated. Jokes flew a mile a minute and heavy sleepers started to wake up. The drunk guys behind me cheered Sean on, and I couldn't help but wake up and throw in a few stock Connery jokes (references to "Pussy Galore" being at a premium). But it cost me. I had lost valuable sleeping time and my schedule was thrown off kilter. Still, I can give the film one commendation -- it makes a lot more sense when people are yelling at it. "Yeah, now I get it!"

I absolutely stayed awake for all of Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, a phenomenal choice. If there was anything the B-Fest was missing, it was androgynous villains named calling themselves "Superwoman" and the Strawberry Alarm Clock. "Good sense, innocence, crippled mankind! Thank you, we're the Strawberry Alarm Clock and we'll be appearing through the whole movie until it gets really weird at the end!" -- "Play Incense and Peppermint again, dude!"

I was trying to stake awake for Reefer Madness, but the missed Zardoz nap was taking its toll. It is a very sad personal note to say that my drifting in and out of sleep deprived me of my favorite B-Fest time, my "sweetspot" as it were. This is the time around 4:00 or so when even the old campaigners are getting pretty tired, and the general mood of the Fest quiets down. It's a great time to throw out a few jokes and the whole audience can hear -- though they're often too tired to do more than give a little chuckle. But it keeps the spirit alive -- just like keeping the Olympic torch always burning -- only for something worthwhile. And I missed it because I was so tired -- damn you, 40 hour work week! I can already feel the bitter part of me that likes Dilbert growing inside me -- for the love of God, will no one tear it out of my breast?!?

It was about this time that I discovered the grimy floor, littered with Hershey Miniatures wrappers as it was, is still about 34.2 times more comfortable than the McCormick Theatre seats for sleeping. I slept a while then. Fans(?) of Reefer Madness, Terror from the Year 5000, and Saga of the Viking Women will have to look elsewhere for re-caps. I know, reproach me if you will for not staying up the entire night -- but in my defense Rob and I had stayed up the entire night before watching Walking Tall Part II and so I think we deserve some slack.

Well, I had to wake up for the next movie. Who could not love the classic Robot Monster? It's the exciting story of a shag rug with a plastic popcorn bowl on his head who sweats away his days wandering in the desert and spends his nights with a Fisher Price Bubble Mower. Wait.. that's not right... Well, it's close enough. Needless to say, we had a great time with this junk pile, although I think frequent B-Festers might be starting to put it on their "a few too many showings" list.

I'm going to place the shorts in here. They were placed between movies, but in remembering I confess to having no idea when they occurred. They all feel like I was watching them when I was pretty damn sleepy. I'm not sure it matters much anyway. B-Fest newbies might want to check out last year's memoirs for a description of The Wizard of Speed and Time. Nothing much different this year, except I could have used a few more showings -- I'm not sure 2 was enough for us.

What is Communism? has never done much for me. I know the crowd loved it, but I was already bored during the first showing I saw at B-Fest and I'm not going to be excited about it next year. More interesting was the short about a doped up detective who rides an inflatable fish. I've forgotten the title, but there were at least 3 drug connotations contained within his name -- "Junkie McCokewell" or "Detective Hophead Smack" or something. I don't know who the intended audience was, but it might get a good reception in an opium den or two.

If there was ever a Hallmark moment at the '99 B-Fest, I think it came during the viewing of the sing-a-long short, Blue Hawaii. Imagine a pre-Elvisized, all male Korean War USO show (Pal Joey couldn't make it) rendition of the classic song, lovingly synchronized to a bouncing ball which gleefully jumps across lyrical notes over crudely drawn cliches of Polynesian culture. That ball had the whole of the attendees entranced. We drunkenly bawled out the words (all 18 verses) as if some cosmic force was compelling us. I am sure this force was something mystical, and not merely a combination of sugar and the need to pee very, very badly -- and I think we all felt it.

Now back to our regular scheduled movies: Next was The Tingler, in which Vincent Price takes his coat on and off again -- many, many times! Film buffs may remember the "chilling" scene where the villain is chased into a movie theatre on screen, and then all the lights go off (in the theatre The Tingler is showing in) as the audience is encouraged to scream. I suppose during first-run showings, ushers would go around touching people with the 50's equivalent of Gak or poked 'em with Super Super Slim Jims or hit them with shuffle board poles padded with jello jigglers or something. The B-Fest usher must have been too lazy. Come to think of it, he never came back after I gave him $75 for popcorn either. I want my butter flavored popcorn, pal! I remember The Tingler best for a short lived routine that grew out it.

Me: "I don't get it. It's been 2 hours, and this guy still hasn't taken a pee. When's he going to the bathroom?"

Rob: "Oh.. No, no.. It's not The Tinkler, it's the The Tingler.."

Me: "Oooohhhh...."

Four minutes later:

Me: "What's the deal, there's no cocktail party, there's no music, and this guy hasn't talked casually with any strangers!"

Rob: "No, no.. He's not The Mingler, he's The Tingler"

Me: "Ooooohhh..."

Which just goes to show what kind of material 15 hours trapped in a room with only prepackaged Rice Crispie Treats and Black Cherry cola makes funny.

I hereby lay this bit in the cold cold ground. May it rest in piece.

I was definitely bored with The Creeping Flesh. Too many characters and not enough sea-chanteys! Seriously, I think they should have played up the whole sailor whore angle. I'm also not sure this flick was "bad" enough for the B-Fest. If I could have heard what was going on, I'm sure it would have been passing amusing as a regular movie.

Enter Girls Town, Mamie Van Doren's cinematic tour de-force about a girl who's sent to an all girls reformatory but just can't get herself straight. Ahem. Also billed as Attack of the Velvet Fog and Paul Anka, Pussywhipped P.I.. Could Paul Anka get any more Hansony in this role? His "Ave Maria" was so painful I had to do a couple hundred Hail Mary's to get the bad taste out of my mouth. Boy, it's sad when you have to root for Mel Torme in a movie. Anyway, Girl's Town -- come for the oversized breasts, stay for the rockabilly version of the theme "Girl's Town" sung by neither of the male leads. A hilarious camp film enjoyed by all. (News update after I wrote this: Mel Torme is dead. Disregard previous jokes about Mel Torme)

The final film on the roster was the Grand Unified Field Theory of monster movies, Destroy All Monsters! I'll leave this film to more knowledgeable Godzilla fans than I to dissect -- the indefatigable Ken Begg seemed to know everything and it's sister about it, so I'll leave it alone other than to say I loved it but that the fun of the flick was tempered somewhat with the bitter sweet parting from B-Fest was already weighing on my mind. Alas, Destroy All Monsters!, you left us too soon.

Thus ended B-Fest '99. The aftermath hit me so hard I had to sleep for 5 months straight.

Before I leave off, some notes on this year's show. First, let me just give hearty thanks to the guy with slide whistle (who used it to highlight the on-screen goings ons). If he isn't a double-damned genius, then gentlemen, I don't know who is. After his magnificent performance last year, a lot of us were concerned it couldn't be outdone and would only encourage less skilled players to crowd him out. We couldn't be more wrong. What a showman! -- how he had the mental willpower to stave off using it until late in the night I will never know -- and then, never did he overplay it or whistle out at an inappropriate time. Kudos to you, whistle guy.

Second, I loved the selection this year. I hope it was the acquisition of a 35mm projector that did it and not a one-time fluke. Repeats were way down and I think it was much better pickings than '98. Although there were several "not so bad" movies that could have been replaced with some real stinkers -- but I think this is partly a matter of a taste, so I won't say too much about it. The skit players did a fine job this year. Several of their bits were hilarious, others only so-so, but overall it was nice to see people with energy making the jokes we were too tired to. Thanks, guys.

Now the dislikes. People, let it go with the laser pointers. We get that the guy on screen now has red eyes, or the woman in the tight shirt has nipples (why do you think I was there?). The only thing as annoying as 5 red dots wandering aimlessly over the screen for 24 hours were the people constantly shouting "turn the damned things off!". With the proliferation of cheap, disposable laser keychains, I can only foresee this problem getting worse. I know a lot of the audience was looking to ban them by the end -- my advice is a recommendation to moderation. If you're thinking about bringing one, don't -- somebody else already did. And if you have one there, don't keep it on! Make your joke (if you really think there is one) and put it away. Take a cue from the whistle guy.

One further disappointment: again, there was no blaxploitation film this year. I only pray next year will bring the likes of Truck Turner, Shaft Goes to Africa, or -- dare I hope it -- an appearance by the Human Tornado/Avenging Disco Godfather himself, Rudy Ray Moore? In general, I think we could do with a bit more variety when it comes to genres. Just as long as they stay away from serials..

All in all, I had a great time at B-Fest next year and will, of course, attend in the year 2000 if my communal bunker has been opened so soon after Y2K comes. I'd like to leave you with a joke I intended to but didn't get to do at the B-Fest and now I won't ever get to (it's just not funny when it's true):

To be said during a scene where there's a radio broadcast voice-over:

"We are breaking in with a special report from NBC news.. Joe Dimaggio is dead.. Joe Dimaggio is dead... No, wait..."

Kids, don't make fun of the dead.

Till next year, guys,

Alan

Alan Gallauresi is a freelance journalist and a real trusting son-of-a-bitch, ain't he? Read his latest column, "B-Fest 99" in the pixelated text above you.