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Impressions: Fangoria Weekend of Horrors (Chicago)
By James VanFleet
Mar 11, 2006, 22:20

The top ten moments of my first convention (because going to a convention wasn’t geeky enough – I had to make a top ten about it).

10.  Horror Fans that Put Me to Shame

I had no idea I was so damn mild.  I mean, I make my friends and acquaintances uncomfortable when I say Dawn of the Dead is my favorite film.  I had two dollars in library fines the other day for The Body Snatcher.  Nearly everyone at the convention outdressed and generally out-fanned me.  Everything from a tiny four-year-zombie to Kabuki Man to a doorman dressed as Blade.  I’m not saying that these people should be ashamed or anything – I’m just used to being that far end of the spectrum.  I wasn’t planning on going to a horror convention and feeling like a regular joe moviegoer, but there you are.

Terrifying, isn't it? A fire alarm with no protective seal.

9.  A Free, Early SLiTHER

There’s no better theater crowd than a packed group of fans watching a balls-to-the-wall horror comedy.  Plenty of laughs, plenty of frights, and a whole lot of yelled encouragement during the gruesome death scenes.  The movie was a pleasant little treat, a    fun nod to 80’s horror and 50’s monsters, sprinkled with the requisite in-jokes and cameos.  But viewing it in those settings kicked everything up about three notches.  A bunch of horror fans bussing out to a screening of a genuinely good horror flick is like the Knight and his followers heading for Canterbury.

8.  The Silent Hill Clip

If you’ve seen it, you know it.  My interest in this film dwarfs any other horror film on the horizon.  It has the potential to be the most satisfyingly trippy genre flick since The Cell.

7.  Wait, was that Mick Garris?

I’ve loved this guy’s stuff since The Stand, and I think that his Masters of Horror is, collectively, the most respectful and mature horror project since . . . well, a while, that’s for damn sure.  Mr. Garris screened a special presentation of his episode for MoH, “Chocolate” (and I still think it’s one of the series’ best).  What’s interesting is that, before he introduced the episode, he entered the room, checked the projector, then left, and no one noticed except me.  He’s an unassuming, casual guy.

Romero fields a question about his really short pants.

6.  Good Question, Great Answer

How boring can it be, hearing people asking the same questions over and over?  It drives me crazy.  So I asked Romero if his change in style for Land of the Dead was a conscious choice, then I asked Savini if there were any CGI effects that he admired.  Not the best questions, but I thought they were different.  What was cool was when Savini put some real thought into answering his question (most answers by celebrities are prepackaged, for the ease of both parties).  He listed the Lord of the Rings movies, the first Jurassic Park, a few others.  But then he started wondering what made a special effect good: was it the craft and invention on display, or the seamlessness?  Then Romero jumped in, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t actually have a spontaneous discussion on the issue.  It wasn’t resolved, but there was a sense of reality there that was missing from most of the panels.  As I walked back to my seat, trying not to miss a word, I saw one fan in the front rows mouthing: this is awesome.  Pretty much.

5.  Sandweiss Signs My DVD

I’ll keep things brief, since I rambled about her in my introduction to the Fango Convention.  Getting her to sign my Book of the Dead DVD was a success – my timid attempt at holding a regular conversation proved less successful.  I think I mentioned my name twice and her awesomeness about twelve times.

Don't call her "Cheryl."

4.  Gordon and Lovecraft

Confession: I’ve written a Lovecraft screenplay.  I thought I did alright.  Funny how talking with Stuart Gordon reminded me how it’s really done.  After his screening of Dreams in the Witch-House (an episode that continues to grow on me), I chatted about how difficult it can be to interpret Lovecraft’s written work.  He disagreed politely, explaining how Dreams as a short story had plenty of visual cues.  For a brief moment, fandom and cultdom fell by the wayside, as I felt like I was just talking to someone else on an equal level.  It was rad.

Gordon's laughing on the outside, but inside . . . well, okay, probably laughing.

3.  Samara Orders the Honey Turkey

I was dining on a Build Your Own Burger™, when a girl at an adjacent table, flanked by a significant other, asks me “So, are you here for the convention?”  I turn around and see an adorable girl with blonde hair.  I take the opportunity to chat with her, and she mentions that she’s been to a few of these conventions.  I ask her if she’s a fan.  She isn’t.  She’s actually an actress.  Kelly Stables.  The girl who plays Samara.  A girl who, conveniently enough, looks absolutely nothing like Samara.  The rest of the conversation, I’m thinking, “Jim, were you really expecting a girl with a ripped nightgown and three-foot black hair?”

2.  Romero

Here’s a life lesson: when you meet your hero, you can’t play casual.  It doesn’t work.  So I opted instead to keep things quick.  Romero had a flight to catch, his signing was almost over, and I had gotten a ticket for two signatures purely by accident.  So I walk up to him, look at his coke-bottle glasses, and I tell him that I’m grateful for the autographs, and that he’s an inspiration for my writing.  So he asks me how that’s going, I tell him it’s going well, and he congratulates me and wishes me the best.  Just seeing the man go out of his way to talk with me, one of a thousand fans, I mean . . . wow.  No words can describe it, so I’ll take a cue from Will Ferrell’s James Lipton: it was scrumtrulescent.

This guy owns you. Accept it.

1.  Meeting Justin Paul Ritter

Who the hell is Justin Paul Ritter, and why is he number one?  Ritter is the man behind the indie serial killer flick, Katiebird: Certifiable Crazy Person.  Sounds like a rejected Troma Film, but the movie is a dissection of a woman whose mental health deteriorates over time, resulting in mania and fragmented reality.  That’s all well and good, but Justin Paul Ritter himself is the draw.  He’s an earnest, eager man who made the tiny-budget film in a desperate bid to follow his dreams before bankruptcy set in.  I haven’t seen the film, so I can’t determine whether or not he succeeded, but the man embodies the very best of what a genre filmmaker can do: go beyond the traditional with meager finances, high concept, and give it their all, caution be damned.  It’s the story behind The Last House on the Left, The Evil Dead, Bad Taste, The Blair Witch Project, and a hundred others.  Passion and invention drive this genre, as they do any genre, and Ritter’s drive is palpable, and real, and infectious.