Though nothing could ever top 2002's schedule, I think 2004 had a lot better line-up than last years. What follows is a brief plot description and reactions to those films we endured. It was also determined afterwards over egg rolls that three themes threaded their way through almost all them: airline disasters, wet slobbery kisses, and a character getting kicked in the junk or some other kind of blunt groinal trauma. So, in the interest of science gone awry, I've listed how these instances occurred for each film.

Enough already. Get to the movies! Roger. Wilco. Lock and load. And be careful opening that frozen Diet Dew ya idgit!

Something very strange is going on over at Mystery Mountain -- OoOOooOo -- so John Agar and a guy I call Rampart [...because he played the Doctor on Emergency] investigate by running their jeep into some convenient rocks. Then, inside a cave on Mystery Mountain -- OoOOooOo -- they find Gor, a giant inflatable brain from the planet Arous. Being kind of cranky and radioactive, Gor kills Rampart and takes control of Agar's mind and body. But when his girlfriend grows suspicious of his odd behavior,  she and her father head to Mystery Mountain -- OoOOooOo -- to find out what happened to him. Finding what's left of Rampart, they also find another inflatable brain who claims to be a galactic bounty hunter, here to bring Gor back to justice. Meanwhile, Gor, through Agar, blows up an airplane with his mental powers and threatens to do more unless the Earth surrenders. Told by the other alien, whom I call Shecky, that their only hope is to strike Gor's only vulnerable spot, the fissure of Rolando, the girlfriend gets a subtle [...if leaving a note the size of a billboard can be called subtle] message to Agar, who sticks an axe in the fissure. There, that ought to do it. As the monster deflates, the world is saved. Hooray.

Wow, I'm embarrassed to admit, but this was the first time I'd seen this thing. I'm sure Shecky appreciated them making him take refuge in a dog. "Why must I inhabit the Earth creature that licks its own ass?" or, as Mike pointed out, We don't want to know what orifice that brain just crawled out of. If you take nothing else from the film, the fact that John Agar could really lay on a wet, slobber-knocker of smooch is more than enough. So much so that any extended sloppy kiss will now and forever be known as Agaring in my household.

The early '90s saw a spurt of live-action, fighting-giant-robot movies and Robot Jox was the best of them. I assure you "best" is a very relative term when applied to this Cold War parable (-- but wasn’t the Cold War over by the ‘90s?). Set in the far-flung future, rival nations square land disputes by pitting specially trained combatants, who use giant, tripped-out robots that are packed to the hilt with weapons of mass destruction, and let them beat the hell out of each other; winner takes all, but like the gladiatorial arenas of old, survival is not guaranteed.

During the first two features, several members of A&O Films were trolling around the audience and asking everyone to remove their stuff from the aisles. Word had obviously gotten around that the festival had sold out, bringing concerns from campus security, namely a gal we dubbed Fire Marshall Sally. After Robot Jox ended, the audience was informed that the next feature, The Beatniks, would not start until all the aisles and exits were clear of baggage, blankets, and survival rations to bring McCormick Auditorium back up to code. 

Having seen The Beatniks before, I was tempted to call their bluff. But, I've seen The Towering Inferno enough times to know that cataclysmic disasters should always be averted whenever possible. They opened up a side room to stash things, but being too chicken to leave my stuff unattended, I jammed it all under my seat (-- and Mike's when he wasn't looking). I'm also a little terrified that my earlier premonitions about a visit from the Fire Marshall came true ... Guess I'd better not say anything about the meteor dream then, huh?

Note to self: Bare essentials only next year.

When Eddie, a dopey hoodlum, flexes his vocal chords at a local diner, he’s overheard by [I assume] a very desperate, one-lung record producer, who offers him a record contract. With fortune and glory in the palm of his hand, Eddie chucks it because he refuses to dump his old friends. He does inexplicably dump his old girl, Iris, a fairly good looking brunette, for good girl Helen, a scary-looking woman with a marine cut, Adam's apple, and lazy eye. This act proves to be the beginning of the end for our hero.

And as the rest of Eddie's gang, a bunch of degenerate no-goodniks, do their best to ruin his chances of a better life by destroying the hotel room the record label has him staying in, the final nail in his singing career comes when Moonie, the most psychotic of his friends, kills a fat bar keep, sending everything completely down the drain.

There might have been a stinging moral lesson in The Beatniks, but it just wasn't quite obvious enough to be sure. (Yes, kids, that's called sarcasm.) It was written and directed by famed voice actor Paul Frees and featured a fine scenery-chewing performance by Peter Breck as Moonie. But, in truth, The Beatniks has no plot, no point, and, oddly enough, no Beatniks.