Casino of Frankenstein (Pt. 3)

Seriously Deep into the Heart of the American Drive-In

(Missed the first two parts of this travelogue? You can find them here: Part 1; Part 2)

I was the Bottle Opener King of the Jamboree.

At least in my little section. Before heading to the drive-in, I picked up a camping chair and soft cooler from REI. (I’m not a camper, but I’m obsessed with REI. The gear, the maps, the dehydrated Lobster Thermidor in little bags… all of it.) My wife noticed that the cooler came with a cute little bottle opener, attached to the shell with a nylon string. Sweet.

While setting up, I heard the couple next to me realize, shit, we brought these bottles of beer, but we didn’t pack an opener.

I said, “Don’t mean to intrude… but I have an opener here, attached to my cooler. Help yourself anytime.” They were grateful, and even gave me a handmade beaded bracelet as a thank you. (Below, left, with the white skull.) I was genuinely touched.

Word slowly spread that I was the Dude with the Bottle Opener, because at random times over the next few hours a fellow mutant would creep up to me and ask, Hey is it cool if I borrow your opener? Of course it was cool. It was nice to be useful to my mutant community.

Anyway, as Joe Bob Briggs would say: back to the flicks.

I sat in my hunter green REI camping chair and prepared for what I consider the ultimate indulgence: sitting back and watching five or six horror movies in row. This is my horror nerd version of Calgon, Take Me Away. Nobody’s calling, no pet needs to be walked outside, there are no deadlines. There is only the drive-in.

And tonight was a very special night at the drive-in, because the headliner was John Carpenter!

Now this is going to sound like a brag, but… well, okay, it is a brag. I know John. I’ve written a whole bunch of graphic novels and stories for Storm King Comics, edited by Sandy King Carpenter. They are truly a joy to work with. I consider them family. And they treat their writers and artists like family, too.

But primarily… I’m a total John Carpenter fanboy. This started with Halloween, first broadcast on network TV on October 30, 1981. I was nine, and ever since I was trained to look for that glorious “John Carpenter’s…” tag in front of any given movie title. The Thing? Oh yeah. Starman? Yes. Big Trouble in Little China? Hell yes. They Live? Fuck yes. And you haven’t experienced joy until you’ve visited John Carpenter’s home and realize he has a row of mock Sutter Kane novels (from In the Mouth of Madness) on his bookshelf.

So it was a special thrill to see my fellow mutants’ reaction to a black luxury car speed toward the stage, presumably straight from Harry Reid International. That’s right: John Carpenter had made it to the drive-in, and we were about to watch Prince of Darkness.

Prince of Darkness is a fascinating and intense blend of nerd survival horror (PhDs getting mowed down instead of horny camp counselors), metaphysical horror (does Satan exist at the quantum level?) and all-out horror horror… there are specific scenes in this one that will haunt me until I die. The mirror (and The Other Side), for one. Also, the cryptic dream message from the future—which feels inspired by the science-based terror stories of Nigel Kneale.

It was the perfect Jamboree opener.

John took the stage for a series of interviews with Joe Bob, which is also a feature of The Last Drive-In series. (Over the years, Joe Bob has assembled an astounding group of genre guests, everyone from the late and legendary Roger Corman to modern masters like Joe Lynch). John Carpenter was the John I know from real life: straightforward, deadpan and fucking hilarious. And it was wonderful to see him awarded “The Hubby,” Joe Bob’s special lifetime achievement award for drive-in excellence.

The award, Dear Reader, was a hubcap. Specifically, a hubcap from a Plymouth Fury (in honor of Christine).

John was asked about censorship in his films, and he said he was censored only once—by the MPAA who’d screened his second feature, Assault on Precinct 13 (which is a masterpiece of a siege flick; please watch it immediately). There’s a scene where a little girl with an ice cream (played by Kim Richards… yes, the Real Housewives Kim Richards) is blown away by an L.A. scumbag who doesn’t even have the decency to let her finish her cone.

The MPAA lost their minds. John said he’d cut the scene. John then put the scene back in before it was released to theaters. That, my friends, is how you deal with censorship.

Next up was a stone-cold Carpenter classic: The Thing.

Praising The Thing at this point is like carrying an armful of snowballs to Antarctica. More than 40 years later, it has yet to be bested in terms of practical effects or paranoia. Adding to the drive-in experience this time, however, was our location next to the North Las Vegas Airport. Helicopters would routinely take off (and land) to our left. Remember that opening scene from The Thing, where the Norwegian chopper is in hot pursuit of that sled dog? Well yeah, we were treated to a Sensurround-like moment when the onscreen chopper was mirrored by a nearby chopper in real life.

Sometimes, life is beautiful and sends you little gifts.

By the time John Carpenter sped away in his mysterious black car, it was… what? Well after midnight? I wondered how Joe Bob was going to squeeze in three more movies before dawn.

Third up was another all-time favorite: Return of the Living Dead.

I came to this one late, first watching it around 2010 or so. A few years later, I took my daughter Evie to Monster Mania in Cherry Hill, NJ, which featured a cast reunion. I was thrilled to see James Karen (known to most Philadelphians as “The Pathmark Guy”) as well as Allan Trautman, a.k.a., “Tarman.”

This photo of Evie and the real-life Tarman will always be a treasure.

This screening kicked off the second special event of the Jamboree: a gathering of three legendary “scream queens”—Linnea Quigley, Brinke Stevens and Michele Bauer. Linnea, of course, famously portrayed “Trash” in ROTLD. She was also Fangoria Magazine’s tongue-in-cheek version of Jane Fonda.

Brinke Stevens as the star of the fourth movie of the night, Grant Austin Waldman’s Teenage Exorcist… which, as Joe Bob noted, featured neither teenagers nor a proper exorcism. But not only did this star Brinke Stevens, but she wrote the script, too. In only three or four days, as she told us mutants.

Is Teenage Exorcist a lost classic? Um, no. But it is the perfect horror comedy to be watching in the desert at 3 a.m. as you’re beginning to hallucinate.

I suppose this is a good time to tell you how to survive a horror all-nighter. I have some experience with this. Some basic guidelines:

Don’t drink alcohol. Or if you do, keep it to a minimum, and imbibe early on. Too much booze will make you sleepy, and sleep is the enemy here. Don’t worry: mind-altering effects will occur later.

Dress comfortably. I usually wear shorts and a horror t-shirt, but pack a zip-up jacket and a blanket for when it gets cold. And it will get cold, at a certain point. Even in the desert.

Pack caffeine and snacks. My go-to is Diet Coke from the concession stand, along with movie-style boxes of candy. Sometimes around 1 a.m., I will make the questionable choice to eat a hot dog or White Castle sliders. My body will be like, what the fuck, dude? And I will be like, shut up, you need the protein. And my body will be like, whatever, dude, you’re going to hate yourself tomorrow. And I will be like, tomorrow is a distant country, tonight it’s all about the movies. And my body will be like, God I hate you. But I won’t care. Because this is the drive-in. And the drive-in never dies.

Nodding off? Go for it. This happens to me all the time. My brain will tell me it’s taking over, and try to impose a nap. I will play along, knowing that I will be treated to a series of visual delights. At the Jamboree, the painted parking lines on the asphalt below me took on a life of their own. They began to float. I’d look up to Brinke Stevens on the screen, but she’d have problems of her own. I would have to deal with these painted parking lines myself. But they were all around me. There was no escape. Holy fucking shit these parking lines are going to slice me into tiny pieces…

Breathe. The parking lines aren’t coming for you. (Seriously.)

Walk around, relieve your bladder. Blood flow is key. So is reminding yourself that you’re a human being, flesh and bone and blood. If you miss a few minutes of the flick, no big deal. You’re here for the war, not the skirmishes.

The fifth and final movie of the first night of the Jamboree was a Fred Olen Ray opus: Beverly Hills Vamp. This starred the final screen queen, the wonderful Michelle Bauer.

I give Michelle all the props in the world for hanging out with us mutants so very late. Despite it being close to 5 a.m., Michelle was witty, warm and all-around wonderful. Though she still acts, her main job these days is overseeing an asphalt company. Much like the asphalt beneath our camping chairs. The night had come full circle.

Or I was seriously hallucinating.

Beverly Hills Vamp is actually a super enjoyable Hollywood satire, complete with bloodsuckers and brothels. Eddie Deezen stars—and he co-starred in Teenage Exorcist as well, making these features an unofficial Deezen Double.

But the real surprise of these last two features was actor Robert Quarry, a.k.a. Count Yorga. I am a Yorga Superfan. And hearing Quarry playfully mock his signature role in this movie? Yeah, that made my heart soar.

And at 6 a.m., I desperately needed soaring of any kind.

As Beverly Hills Vamp played, I noticed the desert sky was not quite so dark. The stars dimmed. Was that… the sun over the horizon?

Once the movie was over, there was one treat left for us die-hards. I looked around and noticed that more than half of us mutants had called it quits. (Sensibly.) But no, I was here to stay until the bitter end, even though my eyes felt gummy and I was completely over the idea of wearing shoes.

And that last treat was…

A fucking Garfield cartoon?

Yes, a Garfield cartoon… only this one featured the vocal talents of Brinke Stevens. This was Darcy the Mail Girl’s pick, and it was wonderful. The perfect way to readjust to the daylight hours.

I walked to the drive-in restroom to relieve my bladder and question my life choices. I splashed water on my face. I walked back toward the stage. Took a photo of the survivors.

And then… Jamboree night one was over. I packed up my hunter green REI chair and trudged over to Mildred, my faithful 2013 Honda Accord. I drove back to El Cortez with the early morning sun stabbing me in the eyes like it wanted me to die. But I didn’t care, because I’d enjoyed one epic night of indulgence.

Calgon, take me away.

But also: Calgon, put me to sleep. Because there was a second all-night ahead of me, and Calgon, if I’m honest, I was worried for my very soul…

This travelogue will resume tomorrow…