My Diseased Mind

Last Night At The Alamo Drafthouse (Part 3)

Part 3 – Night Warning

After Earthquake, I worked up the courage to go down and harass Harry Knowles for an autograph. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but he was very gracious, personalizing it and writing “It ain’t cool that this is the last night at the Original Alamo! He also drew his signature doodle of his face, and signed his name. Geek heaven. While he was signing, they threw a few more blasts from the Earthquake sound system our way, and I got the full effect of the subwoofers at relatively close range. I think I’m sterile. Here’s hoping, anyway. I also noticed that the only ceiling tile that had come loose was directly above Harry. No biggie; the novelty hard hat would protect him. I stuck around long enough to wish him luck on his upcoming wedding and collect my autograph before triumphantly walking back to my seat where I attempted to explain to my uncle who Harry Knowles is, and why it’s a big deal that I got his autograph.

During the break, they showed at least 30 minutes of sex and gore clips from various movies, with what looked to be a little bit of porn mixed in. It was an interesting sociological exercise; every woman either laughed or shrugged it off, while every man was in a state somewhere near hypnosis. At that point, I could have easily watched another 3 hours of it. I saw lots of movies I recognized, but even more that I really want to see.

But alas, that wasn’t the case. And actually, I’m better off for it. The last movie of the night was some real, honest-to-god nightmare food, and I’m glad I got to see it in a crowded theater. I’m going to save all discussion of Susu until tomorrow, so I’ll get right into the movie.

Night Warning is like a cross between Psycho, Mommy Dearest, Misery, and Friday the 13th with plenty of incesty goodness and overacting to go around. Susan Tyrrell plays Cheryl, aunt/adopted mother of Billy(Jimmy McNichol), whose parents die at the beginning of the film in spectacular fashion and under cloudy circumstances. But that was 14 years ago, and Jimmy is a perfectly well-adjusted jock with a hot girlfriend and a crazy aunt. His problems revolve around deciding where to play college basketball and occasionally mixing it up with a young Bill Paxton. At this point in his career, Bill’s acting arsenal was pretty sparse, seemingly limited to holding his wrist and squeaking, “Foul! Foul!” repeatedly. Everything goes south when aunt Cheryl’s wiring gets a little frayed, rendering her more and more batshit with every scene. She’s less than enthused that Billy is getting ready to run off to college, and goes to some pretty fucked up lengths to prevent him from doing so. Sure enough, a local repairman winds up dead, and Detective Joe Carlson (Bo Svenson) is on the case. Svenson is the only character in the film capable of chewing the scenery as well as Susu, and he doesn’t disappoint. To wit:

Detective Joe Carlson: I took a look at this fellow Brody. Seems he was fairly athletic. Why didn’t he pin you down on the couch?
Cheryl Roberts: He tried, but I got away.
Detective Joe Carlson: Now you said he touched your boob. How?
Cheryl Roberts: I refuse… to answer anymore of your questions.
Detective Joe Carlson: Lady, I don’t give a shit what you do.

After the movie, we had another brief Q&A session with Susan, and then commenced to tearing our seats out. It took some doing, but we gradually emptied the place out, and I’ve got four green velvet-seated seats from the original Alamo Drafthouse. It was pretty sad to see the place close down, but what a way to go out. In a few months, they’ll be opening a new one a couple of blocks away, in the old Ritz location. From what I hear, it’s going to be much nicer, and will have multiple screens. The wheels of progress are rolling along and all that shit, but even so, it’s still a little sad to see such a cool place close down.

Tomorrow: Susan Tyrrell