Ripvanryan Digressions of a Listless Film School Drop Out
Sundance '10: Frozen 12:42am, January 29, 2010
Before screening Frozen, director Adam Green stood up and apologized to the audience in advance if the movie happened to make anybody sick, vaguely referencing a situation at a previous screening. I was immediately skeptical. I’d heard bullshit like that before, back when Grace was screening at the 2009 festival, how the movie was strong enough to make hippies and old people poop their pants. And whereas Grace wasn’t a bad movie, there was no way it could possibly live up to its unearned reputation as the festival badboy.
But Frozen…well, Frozen made my palms sweat. A lot. And frankly, there’s no better compliment I can give a movie. I liked Star Trek, but hey, it didn’t make my palms sweat. Frozen had me secreting so much hand sweat, I found myself running woozily short of electrolytes during the final half hour.
After the screening, Adam told a couple of good but harrowing stories about shooting with the trained wolves. I loved the wolves in Frozen. And I loved that they were real. Roland Emmerich-style cheesedick CG wolves would have killed most of the suspense.
I stayed in Park City for a couple of nights and saw Buried and The Violent Kind the next day. Don't even get me started on The Violent Kind. That’s a whole ‘nother story.
Sundance '10: Tucker and Dale vs. Evil 2:56am, January 24, 2010
With a decent-sized snowstorm moving into the canyon, the drive from Salt Lake City to Park City was not a relaxing one. Normally a hotbed of winter car crash fatalities, Parley’s Canyon was particularly treacherous this year. As a result, foot traffic on Main was relatively sparse. My socks were soaked balls of ice inside of 20 minutes.
With the blizzardy conditions, I had a hard time spotting any celebrities. Although I did see Shawn Doyle (Big Love) in the lobby of the Park City Marriott. But that’s about it.
The shuttles were running incredibly slow, with the exception of this one driver, who skidded in and out of traffic like he was trying out for Nascar. After freezing my ass to the bone on Main for a few hours, I made my way to the Library Theater for a midnight screening of Tucker and Dale vs. Evil. A stoney-looking snowboarder immediately approached me in the parking lot and asked if I would help push his car out of the snow so he could pop it into gear. (That’s me on the right.)
It didn’t end up working out, the thing just wouldn’t pop, so I ended up abandoning his plight in favor of a good spot in the ticket line. Alan Tudyk wandered around the snack bar for a few minutes before hopping up on a chair and offering a few brief words of gratitude to the ticket holders. It was a touching moment. Well, not really.
Following the screening Tudyk, Tyler Labine (Sock from Reaper), and director Eli Craig answered a bunch of dumb-ass audience questions about the movie (seriously, somebody has got to pre-screen these people). One solitary dude in the crowd yelled out “Sock”, which made me sort of proud.
Following a blazing New Year’s party at Sweddy Eddy’s place, my exceedingly generous and sober younger brother drove myself and the wife back to our apartment, where we promptly went to sleep.
Supposedly.
The thing is, I woke up this morning and discovered a mysterious cut on my pinkie finger.
What? Where did this come from?
After clambering out of bed and stumbling to the living room, I discovered blood on the carpet.
And the wall.
Employing my shrewd detective skills, I combed my pad for additional clues. Well, well, well, what have we here? Apparently a shelf is missing.
Oh, wait, there it is, by the CSI blood smears on the carpet.
But where is the accompanying vase? Oh…okay, wait a minute, I think I get it now. Somehow the shelf broke, the vase fell and shattered, and in an attempt to clean up the mess, I cut my pinkie finger and bled all over the place like Octomom on her period. Case closed.
20 Years Later: Michael Myers' House From Halloween 5 5:00am, October 30, 2009
Earlier today I took a detour through The Avenues of Salt Lake City, Utah, to take a few photos of Michael Myers' house as featured in the universally loathed Halloween 5:The Revenge of Michael Myers. (Halloweens 4, 5, and 6 were shot in Salt Lake. I guess you could say the franchise suffered its mid-life crisis here.)
Here’s a still of Michael Myers’ house taken from the 1989 movie (with Dr. Loomis [Dr. Sam Loomis!] limping up the front steps):
And Michael Myers’ house today:
Yeah, nice colors, right? I guess Miley Cyrus must have moved in at some point. Oh, and in case you can’t get enough reminiscing about the incomparable Halloween 5, here’s a shot of Rachel’s house from the movie:
And Rachel’s house today:
A fat, juicy Happy Halloween to all you B-D Readers! Get out there and scare somebody this weekend!
Indie Horror + Fine Dining = Awesome 11:37pm, October 26, 2009
My wife spotted the ad in the paper: ”Independent Scary Film Night, October 23, 7:00pm…this intimate evening will include appetizers, dinner, dessert, discussion, and film.” The venue? Diva’s Cupcakes and Coffee. Um…okay, I guess. Intriguing maybe, but my expectations weren’t particularly high. I imagined a grainy VHS screening of Carnival of Souls followed by a round of day-old butterscotch crunch cupcakes, like something you might experience for free at the local library. But at $30 a ticket, I was desperately hoping for so much more.
"Diva’s Cupcakes and Coffee, Exterior”
Diva’s Cupcakes turned out to be a quaint but spacious hang-out. Once we’d picked up our tickets from the girl working the cupcake register, the wife and I were herded outdoors to a lovingly decorated porch. There were several dining tables set with glass and silverware, with seating for about 60. A half-dozen plasma televisions were meticulously placed around the perimeter. A handful of heat lamps whooshed fire. Lit Jack-o-Lanterns filled every nook and cranny. Quite frankly, it was horror movie nirvana. And I started to get excited.
"The Porch"
After a couple of fistfuls of harvest bruschetta, I noticed one of my tablemates return with a couple of glasses of wine. Where the hell had that come from? Directed to the upper corner of the porch, where a girl clad in funereal black was somberly serving goblets of wine, I happily put in my order (one red, one white) and inquired as to the cost.
“No charge,” she said.
What is this strange and wonderful place?, I wondered to myself, briefly questioning my own earthly existence. The harvest bruschetta was followed by a hearty vegetable soup, and then poached salmon with asparagus and squash. Then apple crème brulee. And (it goes without saying) more wine.
"Harvest Bruschetta"
Before long the entire porch was bloated and happy, swimming in its own juices, and it was totally time to start the flicks. Yeah, there were a couple of negligible horror shorts from our local branch of the 48-Hour Film Project.
(Sorry, quick digression: If you manage to actually crank out a movie in two days as some sort of sadistic local filmmaking exercise, well, good for you. But do you really want to embarrass yourself by making that piece-of-shit rush job your calling card at future film festivals? What, you haven’t made anything better in the past year?)
There was also an amusing piece called A Refreshing Sensation—about a man’s attempts to relieve stress through self-mutilation—that seemed to share DNA with Douglas Buck’s Cutting Moments. The finale was from director Spanky Ward, a possession/mystery story called Whispers in the Dark. Quite frankly, I was blown away. It was an extremely accomplished piece of auteur filmmaking, smooth and scary, and I immediately assumed it was cruising the festival route. But surprisingly, Ward admitted during the Q&A;: “You’re the first audience to see this movie.” He claims a budget of under $500. I’m dubious. The movie looked too damned good. Whatever the case, Spanky Ward is one to watch.
So thanks to Diva’s Cupcakes and Coffee for an indie horror night well done. As a horror fan, I couldn’t have asked for anything more. Well played, Diva’s. Well played.
Before screening Frozen, director Adam Green stood up and apologized to the audience in advance if the movie happened to make anybody sick, vaguely referencing a situation at a previous screening. I was immediately skeptical. I’d heard bullshit like that before, back when Grace was screening at the 2009 festival, how the movie was strong enough to make hippies and old people poop their pants. And whereas Grace wasn’t a bad movie, there was no way it could possibly live up to its unearned reputation as the festival badboy.
