It wasn't easy, but our noble B-Fester has managed to make it without getting himself killed. And despite being completely unprepared, snackage wise (-- I believe I was denied some important, need to know information), he is determined to prove his mettle worthy to what is looming, and waiting to smite him most verily.

Now enough of this pre-game crap, lets get to the smiting!

Something sinister is hiding in the fog up in the mountain peaks, and since it's lopping people’s heads off, it’s up to Janet Munro and Forrest Tucker to save us all (-- but where’s Larry Storch?). Despite its title and goofy monster, this is actually a pretty good movie. Someone a few rows up had a great line when the monster is finally revealed through an opened door and piped up "Excuse me, is this the Dr. Who audition?" As the good guys duck and cover, the Air Force napalms the marauding horde of Crawling Eyes into oblivion.

The crowd’s enthusiasm is very contagious and I notice Paul has disappeared. He did this several times, and I finally figured out he hit the computer lab and was online. He saw the movies he wanted to see and was happy, which made me happy.

Alas, about half way through the movie, the government cheese, wasubi and Twinkies pushed my intestinal fortitude past critical mass. Time to find the john. (Am I sharing too much here?) On the way back in, I snatched another B-Fest cup and will continue this snatch and grab until I have a complete set to replace my fine china. Which means I can finally retire my Burger King cups. 

Thank you Stomp Tokyo.

A vehicle for gymnastic superstar Kurt Thomas -- well, he would have been a superstar if we hadn't boycotted the 1980 Olympics in Moscow -- it’s amazing how much gymnastic equipment mysteriously crops up in ancient European cities. (Parallel bars, a pommel horse, and the dreaded rings of doom.) Gymkataing his way into some ballyhooed survival of the fittest contest, Kurt meets Hercules and they fight Nazis on the moon, or something.

Since this turd-burger used to be a late night staple on TBS, I took the opportunity to track down a vending machine, bought a pop, and started buying some peanut M&Ms. Got two packages out, put change in for a third and punched the buttons before I looked over saw an empty coil screwing. And that was the last of my exact change. (*&^%$!!!)  

Back to the theater and another B-Fest cup, and I catch the end of the movie. And a personal note of thanks to the film for encouraging the guy two rows up, and five seats over on the left, to shout "GYMKATA!" at the top of his lungs for the next eight hours. Man, it was funny for the first seven hours but, seriously dude, eight was pushing it just a little too far.

The next movie on the slate was supposed to be Battlefield Earth, but when the projector fired up this ode to scientology, the film was not only upside down, but also backwards, which, not surprisingly, brought a great cheer from the audience. Alas, the lights came up, the film ground to a halt, and the emcee announced that the print could be salvaged but would take some time to do just that, so, with apologies to all, the schedule would have to be juggled rather drastically to compensate.

When an evil intergalactic overlord in Kabuki makeup invades a peaceful planet of space hippies, trusting in fate and prophecy, these space hippies launch a bunch of glowing space walnuts that will find the chosen ones, who are destined deliver them from evil. (Sure, why not.) The chosen ones include Sonny Chiba, Vic Morrow and Beebe-II, his Twiki-like robot. The rest are four young rocket jockeys who spend most of the movie in a highly agitated state [RE: spastic]. Following the hippie Princess and her space boat to Earth by converting the entire hippie planet into a rocket ship[!], the bad aliens blow up the moon to show they mean business. Eventually, the Princess rounds up the chosen ones, and they eventually fight and eventually destroy the evil Kabuki overlord. Then all the good guys board the space boat and head off to parts unknown.

While Message from Space is usually confused as a Prince of Space movie, in reality, it is a bizarre combination of Fugitive Alien, The Power Rangers and The Dukes of Hazard. It also borrows heavily from Star Wars and every other sci-fi movie from the '70s. Personally, I like the movie (-- and will review it here one of these days). It has two of my favorite actors in it -- Chiba and Morrow (-- in a pimp suit!), and lots of great miniature work, eye-popping space battles, and general Japanese cinematic carnage, mayhem and insanity. As the movie played out, however, it soon became quite clear that I was in the minority.

During the break, I started digging out my souvenir Y2k End of the World Special Editions to hand out to my peers. And a little explanation is probably in order: I work in the composing department for a small metropolitan newspaper, and since I got stuck working New Years Eve during the whole Y2k scare, I conspired with a couple of pressmen to print up a fake front page declaring that the world had, indeed, ended. Word got out through the B-Movie Message Board about them (-- for the life of me I don’t remember how), and I offered to bring some to B-Fest to give away. While I dug, I noticed Freeman "Dr. Freex" Williams, a fellow Art Bell fan, motoring toward me so I presented him with a promised paper. Next came Joe Bannerman of Opposable Thumb Films. He got a paper and I got a CD. (Thanks Joe!) We shot the breeze for a bit, and then wandered down toward the rest of the gang. There, I meet the other half of the benevolent Stomp Tokyo overlords, Scott Hamilton, and Chris Magyar of the late and lamented Diary of a Tuber.

I made the rounds, handed out the rest of the papers and had time to go and get another soda pop and B-Fest cup before the next film started. Heading back in, I also met the gang from The Brotherhood of Bad Movies and we shared horror stories of Geocities Hell. Nice guys -- go check out their site. I also notice a lot of people are lying on the stage as the lights start to dim. Curious, I head back to my seat, and as I opened another pack of M&Ms and settled in, with the clock reaching the midnight hour, I’ve already convinced myself that I can stay up for the whole flipping thing.

We’re starting to get a little surreal here. Our first short is about a guy who runs around at supersonic speed helping ladies cross the street, among other things. He books around the countryside, eventually tripping on a banana peel that causes him to soar over a jet and fly into a cave, where a clapboard tries to dry hump his leg. And then it got weird...

I noted how a lot of people were lying on stage before the film started, right? Apparently, The Wizard of Speed and Time is a B-Fest staple, and at some point, audience members started going on stage and stomp their feet in rhythm with the soundtrack. Quite a sight. It's also a tradition to immediately rerun the film backwards and upside down right after it finishes. Again, quite a sight. Make that: Sight, a quite again.

I am honestly sick of this movie. I know it. Tasted it. Backwards and forwards. And when the film cued up, I watched as the entire Stomp Tokyo crew evacuated the theater to parts unknown. Did they know something I didn't? I mulled for a moment on following them, skipping Plan 9, and getting better acquainted, but I’m glad I decided to stay put. Once again, the crowd’s enthusiasm won me over. The gentleman with the hot wings was nice enough to loan me a stack of paper plates to chuck during strategic moments of the film.

Plus, five bucks says Eros is a Communist.