Years ago, long before this "blog" was created, the New Beverly Cinema in Hollywood would treat its patrons with holiday-themed grindhouse gems. It was there I viewed the good-bad (Silent Night, Deadly Night) and the awful (I've walked out of films that I knew would be bad and yet were worse than that). Part of the experience in this room of confusion is the theater itself: the lighting was dim. The floors were never cleaned. The staff was on the good side of "carny." The marquee had barely enough letters, and was broken on one side. Take a Bic and create that laundry list of changes you'd make...you'd be right, but it wouldn't be the same. Look at it this way: if you were shoveling in Hamburger Helper on the finest China for sale...part of you wouldn't be able to enjoy that salty treat because your mind would tell you shit is wrong.
But thanks to every freak-film-lovers' friend, QT, the New Beverly has received a generous hose-down. The marquee works, and is new. The seats: removed, spaced out, with new seats put in. Light-bulbs added. The snack bar...well, the menu is now on a barely readable chalkboard, but you can't have everything. Hell, they even placed a sign attempting to limit what food and drink could be brought in, but that didn't stop the clanging of bottles during the first screening: Christmas Evil.
Might you know this film under the title "You Better Watch Out?" I hadn't, nor had I viewed it in the past. The lesson learned from this tale was anyone could be Santa if they want to...because everyone loves Santa. It helps if you're a single loner, because you'll meet a lot of people...first, by spying on the kids all through the year, and secondly, by "not being a stranger" and giving them gifts. (Santa also keeps track of who's good and bad, with such nuggets as "negative body hygiene") Death by toy did occur in this film, including one man sliced with the star from the Christmas tree (in the bedroom, where it usually is).
The director was there afterwards; an old salt, who was married that morning. He seemed reluctant to tell new tales at the start, but soon warmed up and mentioned that a minor role in the film (a guard played by an old man) slipped and fell during filming. This was winter, after all. He passed away 2 weeks later. "I killed him, basically." Please...we don't come here for sour memories. I congratulated him on the wedding and thanked him for showing the film. He was polite but busy hawking production stills from the film. He's married now - he needs extra cash.
After a moment to say a sneaky "hi" to the flask, it was time for the second screening: New Year's Evil. Oh my...now this one, I know. But I can't turn down 1980 Los Angeles at any time. Many questions were unintentionally raised by this film:
1. Why did 99% of films and TV shows capture punk and new wave music incorrectly?
2. If your establishing shot is the Burbank Holiday Inn Towers, why shoot everything else at a hotel in Sherman Oaks? (This was our best guess)
3. If a killer's motives are "I'm fed up" shouldn't we relate to that instead of laugh?
For those not in the know, there's a syndicated TV special counting down the top New Wave songs of the year (1979? - it was released at the end of 1980, so maybe it's meant to be then). Two bands are playing the songs...neither of which fit the genre. But it's not a real countdown...you're supposed to call in and make requests. Whatever, it doesn't matter. A man calls using either the cheapest or oldest voice distorter saying he's going to kill a "naughty girl" at the stroke of midnight in each time zone (in the continental U.S.). He isn't believed because this kind of music draws "wackos." But this man has a series of minor disguises, and travels around LA, doing exactly what he planned. Wait, why did--
We shouldn't arrive at this destination to ask questions, especially when we know the answers. See! characters that dominate a scene and then are never seen or referred to for the rest of the movie. Demand! more scenes from the late lamented Van Nuys Drive-In (a hearty round of applause greeted that sight). Don't Wait! for the film to end so that we can argue on what's the worst line reading.
It was near midnight when the "new wave" soundtrack blared on the screen, showing the credits and a landscape shot of the lights of L.A. The rain didn't diminish our attempts to "re-enact" the film and wake the neighbors with dialogue that seemed even funnier the second time around.
It is the second time around, isn't it? Giving this theater new life...giving barely-seen and much-loved films another go-round...giving hermits the chance to go into public. It was another Hollywood Christmas present.
