QTlll continued in the afternoon with a Saturday Kiddie Matinee featuring VISIT TO A SMALL PLANET with Jerry Lewis in a skewed adaptation of Gore Vidal's more satirical Broadway hit. I know the AICN crew were there. I was not, sleeping in, writing at my favorite cafe, Mojo's.
I had to reserve my strength for that evening's all night EXPLOITATION MARATHON! The list of films was unique with some real gems including
ALLIGATOR written by John Sayles, starring Robert Forster and Ralph Bakshi's rarely-seen animated racial drama COONSKIN.
Come Saturday night at the Alamo Drafthouse. Festive vibe. I'm fully rested, prepped to immerse myself in my first theatrical all-night movie mainline. Bethany and Manny have joined me in the cause. I bought one of the Duke Wayne adorned Alamo mugs that act as a bottomless coffee to help you make it through the night. Here's the big line-up:
* Coonskin
* Alligator
* Death Collector
* Nashville Girl
* Little Cigars
* Surprise Bonus Wake-up Movie
I had already settled on the midle seat, third row. Bethany and Manny sat excited on either side, all of us laughing or marvelling at the breadth of trailers. Robert Rodriguez was there, and Mike Judge, as I recall.
Harry Knowles has a good report on the night here. He and the Austin Geek Mafia sat behind me.
Quentin bound on stage, dressed in black, pumped up, ready to rawk and rawl all night shock a thon the audience. He went on a great riff about how many of these films have very good scenes or moments, or even scripts in the case of John Sayles and ALLIGATOR. His enthusiasm was infectious. “Oh... and another thing... don’t worry about falling asleep... That’s kinda one of the things that’s great about this kinda thing. You fall asleep remembering a man being bit in half by a giant alligator and you wake up to see a country western singer getting a blow job and you’re kinda like.... WHOA... what’s happening here... is this the same fucking movie, where’d the hell did these Dwarves with machine guns come from, what’s happening.”
He warned everybody that he and others would be watching to see who stayed or went. "We know who you are," he promised. I guess we would be filed under "chicken shit" if we bailed. Not me. Who would survive this exploitation onslaught and what would be left of them?
Quentin did his customary drop the microphone and it was Showtime at the Alamo!
