SUMMER OF PEACHES

Watching the kaleidoscopic fever dream that is Rob Fatal’s La Bamba 2: Hell is a Drag leaves the viewer with the indelible impression that the very zeitgeist is having a revolution.

As the title suggests, La Bamba 2 is something of a spiritual sequel to the 1987 film starring Lou Diamond Phillips, which, in of itself, is a bit of a conundrum. After all, how does one make a sequel to a film that is based on such true, extremely finite events as the life of Richie Valens? If you’re Rob Fatal, you do it with panache, surrealism, and no small amount of camp.

La Bamba 2, which will have its world premiere at the San Francisco Underground Short Film Festival (hosted by our own Peaches Christ and Sam Sharkey), is as much an ode to Valens as it is to Fatal’s own personal and cinematic explorations of self and culture. Moreover, it is a film that isn’t confined by any one set of rules, utilizing the biography of an icon to explore the hopes and dreams of an individual seeking an identity of his own.

The plot of La Bamba 2 mostly concerns itself with the character of Rob Fatal (playing some semblance of himself), whose idolization of Richie Valens has led to a lifetime of yearning and identity crisis. However, Fatal gets the chance to come face-to-face with his hero when the rocker is taken captive by the forces of the underworld, and Fatal is pulled down to Hell to help in the search.

Utilizing a gender-bending cast (the secondary title is Hell is a Drag, after all), Fatal’s journey through the inferno is intercut with bizarre recreations of moments from Valens’ own life. What results is a surrealistic parallel of two men trying to find themselves in worlds that seemingly contradict who they are meant to be. It’s fantastically deranged, fully realized chaos…and it’s delicious.

I suspect that when my dear ghoulfriend Peaches Christ pointed me in the direction of Fatal and his campy mind-trip of a film, it was with the knowledge that unusual cinema is my bread and butter. With its evocations of the work of David Lynch and Kenneth Anger, La Bamba 2 showed me that in Rob Fatal I had found a kindred spirit in the world of weird. Eager to talk with the burgeoning filmmaker, I was happy when he took some time from preparing for his premiere to sit and discuss the motivations behind his movie.

Fatal acknowledges his filmic influences, and he wears his adoration of cinema on his sleeve. However, much like La Bamba 2, there are many layers to what led him to commit the story to film. From a dissatisfaction with the world of Chicano cinema to revelatory thoughts on why the original La Bamba still resonates, Fatal shared with me all the details of what made him take this cinematic journey to Hell and back.

First and foremost, your film is about to premiere at the San Francisco Underground Short Film Festival. That’s got to be exciting. How are you feeling?

Among other things, I’m feeling excited, grateful, humbled, and anxious about the premiere. It’s been two long years making La Bamba 2 come to life, and now it’s about to be shown as a fully realized project. Moreover, to have the film premiere as part of Peaches Christ’s festival is a dream come true. I’ve been an admirer of Peaches’ work for a while. It is like the stars aligned and my film found its way to Peaches and Sam. I’m so excited to have it premiere at the SFUSFF. It’s like home.

In an earlier conversation, I mentioned that the film had echoes of Kenneth Anger, and you told me that he was one of your major inspirations. In watching the piece fully, I can see all sorts of influences at work in La Bamba 2. The film calls to mind a range of artists and works, including David Lynch, Jodorowsky, and Richard Elfman’s The Forbidden Zone, yet it remains wholly unique. Rather than have me tell you what I think I saw, I’m interested to hear from you directly what works influenced you in the creation of this piece. What artists and filmmakers, if any, did you look to while making this film?

During the emotionally brutal summer I spent writing the film, David Lynch and, in particular, Alejandro Jodorowsky’s films found their way into the script. Their surreal worlds and characters became my escape and language to understand all of the chaos that was around me. Specifically, the journey plots and visual cues of  Jodorowsky’s Holy Mountain, El Topo and Fando y Lis. As for Lynch, I guess his spirit just hovered about the project, but I know he’s in there. There’s definitely some Twin Peaks, Lost Highway and moments from Blue Velvet and Muholland Drive. Stanley Kubrick’s precision, geometry, and classical grandeur was a cornerstone for the film. The other opposing cornerstone was the brutal and heartfelt trash of John Waters (my hero), such as Pink Flamingos and Polyester. All of this mixed with Kenneth Anger’s Scorpio Rising, which is arguably how we created the costume for the character of Bob. Also, the Kuchars’ Sins of the Fleshapoids and Hold Me While I’m Naked essentially equal La Bamba 2: Hell Is A Drag.

On a similar note, I have to ask: Why La Bamba? Why not the sequel to something else? What drew you to this material? Based on a prior interview you gave, I understand this isn’t the first time you’ve written a sequel to something from the popular culture canon.

When I was younger, La Bamba was, and maybe still is, my favorite film. At first it was because it was something my family came together around: We watched it a lot. We owned the soundtrack, and would dance around to it together. In high school, the film was a cultural reference for me and other Chicanos. We would quote it to each other like a sort of secret code none of the other kids could understand. From that connection in the Chicano community, it became a source of pride. We had something that was powerfully ours. As I got into college and began to make my own video art, I began to understand the rarity of La Bamba. It was one of the highest grossing Chicano films of all time, a generation bridge between those of Ritchie Valens’ time and those decades later who would see his echo in the film. It was a Chicano film, and it helped me come into my own identity as a person of Mexican descent, particularly as someone who was often labeled “white washed” and couldn’t speak Spanish, much like Ritchie in the film. I feel like he and I had something in common. But, like all relationships, mine with La Bamba was gray, to say the least. As I began to study intercultural media communications, feminist theory, and queer theory, I began to see some really dark points in my own Chicano culture, and thus in my own family and identity. The portrayal of women in La Bamba and Chicano films tended to be merely as objects of a man’s desire. They were either wife, mother, or sex object. I began to understand that Chicano films as a genre were loaded with stereotypes of men and women, and used many of the same plots over and over: Assimilation vs. anti-assimilation, migration, gang wars, etc.  I noticed how nearly all of these mainstream Chicano films, including La Bamba, were from the perspective of straight Chicano men, thus, ALL queer people were totally invisible. This changed with La Mission, but that film is, again, arguably from the perspective of a straight Chicano gang member machismo man. As my own identity became more complex, I was seeing myself less and less in La Bamba.

As I entered graduate school and fully committed to my life as a video artist, I found myself again engrossed with La Bamba. This time, it was not with the color of my skin and the location of my family heritage, but in the desires of the characters within the film. I was a dreamer who was a fame glutton, just like Ritchie, struggling to find myself between many cultures. I was an insecure outcast, like Bob, desperate to be recognized and loved. I wanted family, communion, and connectivity, yet shuddered at its toxic nature and trauma. I found elements of fate and mysticism in my life that helped guide me forward to some unknown fate, a theme that runs deep in La Bamba. Similar to Ritchie, I’m scared of death, but want to live as much as possible…even if death is a byproduct of that.

For all of these reasons, La Bamba is my favorite film of all time, and the only film I could dedicate two years of my life scrutinizing with simultaneous parody and homage. It is a vehicle to speak about many topics in Chicano film: Identity, spirituality, etc…

What, if anything, would you like audiences to take away from their viewing experience of La Bamba 2?

My reason for making this film is very selfish. I want to see if other people are questioning the same things as I am: Spirituality, obsession, purpose, desire, and identity. I want people to resonate with this film, and know they are not alone, which is exactly what I get out of it when I see people who “get” La Bamba 2. I know I’ve found other people to travel with on this long and winding journey. I want to build community and dialogue with this film. In a more simple sense, I want people to be entertained and provoked.

What can fans of your work expect next? Is there a new feature in the works?

Aside from the wonderful short video art pieces I am doing with my collaborators Jessica Leimone and Cara Levine, my next feature length video work is about a woman living for ten years in isolation in a cave in a post-apocalyptic future as a way to protect herself from the barbaric world outside. It is heavily influenced visually and thematically by Bela Tarr and P.T. Anderson. This story is told simultaneously with another story about a guy who was a film director before the apocalypse, and deals with the uselessness of his “talent” as a filmmaker now that he is in a post-apocalyptic world without electricity, theaters, and money. He is trying to tell this cave woman’s story and goes on a journey to recruit a film crew, having a series of philosophical debates with potential crew members about spirituality, survival, creation, art, fantasy, and reality. I haven’t finished writing it yet, so I don’t know if he makes the film or not. Stay tuned.

Featuring Event Photos by Nicole Fraser-Herron

“Is she really going to throw a Ball in a movie theater?”

Making my way through the historic Castro Theatre on the night of “Paris is Burning: A Celebration,” this was a question I heard more than one audience member ask in confused fascination. Of course, their puzzlement was not without good cause. A typical Ball can last anywhere from 10-20 hours, and usually requires a whole venue for its participants to gyrate and pose. To have a Ball in a movie house seemed rather outrageous, audacious, and, well, absolutely Peaches.

Of course, knowing Peaches Christ’s special panache for celebrating movies in a manner befitting their legacy, I cannot think of a more appropriate way to honor the iconic Paris is Burning.

…and, oh, did she ever.

With the stage set and the usual Midnight Mass promise to expect the unexpected, the audience settled into their seats with rapt anticipation.

Following the Peaches Christ intro-reel (everyone loves vagina bats), our hostess made her grand entrance…in a bathrobe.

Echoing the film’s iconic sequence where drag mother Dorian Corey speaks to the camera while putting on make-up, Peaches settled into a seat in front of a vanity, casually talking to the audience of 1400 as if they were her most intimate friends. Doing a send-up of some of Corey’s more famous speeches in the film, Peaches managed to pay homage to the movie, all the while parodying its firm place in gay culture.

“Shade,” Peaches said with a twinkle in her eye, “is that I don’t tell Heklina she’s ugly, because she knows she’s ugly. That’s shade.” The jab, aimed at the Trannyshack hostess and dear friend of Peaches, brought the audience to a roar. To her credit, Heklina, who was in attendance, took it with grace. Well, as much grace as one can while flipping the audience the double bird.

Continuing to echo Corey’s approximations of drag and drag culture, Peaches seamlessly transitioned into a discussion of what it meant to leave a mark on the world. What it meant to be truly legendary.

Sensing what was about to come, you could feel the audience starting to quiver with anticipation, a dull roar beginning from the back of the balcony. They knew a legendary drag mother was in the house, and Peaches, ever the showgirl, was building the frenzy like a master.

“…and now let me introduce you to a queen who is truly legendary, give it up for Latrice Royale!”

At mere mention of the RuPaul’s Drag Race superstar, the audience exploded into a deafening storm of cheers and applause. As per usual with a Midnight Mass guest, there was a short reel highlighting Latrice’s work shown on the screen, but the audience almost drowned it out. They knew that within moments one of America’s newest drag icons would be before them, and they could hardly stand the wait.

As the reel came to a close, a spotlight tore through the dark theater and illuminated the back entrance. There, framed by the door, was Latrice Royale. Strutting her way down the aisle to the stage, Latrice was ensconced in the shrieks and screams of the crowd, but it was clear her head was in the music. Showmanship oozed from her every pore, and by the time she stepped up onto the stage at the Castro, it was obvious to the crowd that every laurel she had received was well-earned. Gyrating and moving, Latrice owned that theater for the duration of her song, even going so far as to tearing her costume away to drop down into a split. It was, to say the least, an impressive performance.

With a screaming standing ovation closing out her number, Latrice was rejoined on stage by Peaches, who had now donned a glittery sequined dress and magnificent red wig. The two bantered for a few moments before Peaches revealed that the much whispered about Ball was going to commence, and Latrice herself was going to head up the judges’ table.

Allowing a moment for Latrice to catch her breath, the audience was treated to an amazing performance by the dancers of Vogue & Tone, who provided a little taste of what was to come when Latrice took her seat to reign over the ball. If such breathtaking dancing is what we were in store for, I had a feeling Ms. Royale had her work cut out for her.

However, no judge can rule on such pageantry alone (unless you’re RuPaul), so Peaches announced with pride that Latrice would be joined by several prominent members of the Ball community for the task. Joining Ms. Royale would be Joquese of Vogue & Tone, Tamia of The House of Comme de Garçon, noted ball producer U-Phoria, and legendary drag icon, Glamamore. An impressive line-up, and, admittedly, a tough set to impress. We knew we were in for a showdown of talents.

Furthermore, Peaches knew that no Ball was complete without a caller. With the judges firmly in place, our hostess relinquished her duties to emcee extraordinaire Spider Revlon, a Ball commentator and well-prepared ringmaster for what lay ahead. By introducing Spider to the crowd, Peaches made it known: This was no mere stunt show, it was a for real, classic extravaganza.

With three categories to burn through, the Ball had officially begun.

The first category, Runway Couture, allowed some of Midnight Mass’ regulars to strut their stuff for the judges. Familiar faces like Becky Motorlodge, Lady Bear, Monistat, and more worked their stuff, proving drag isn’t just a look, it’s also a groove. However, none quite brought the runway realness more than Sister Pat, who took the prize for her newspaper-constructed Marie Antoinette look. Though, from where I was sitting, they all looked totally fierce.

The next category, ripping its theme straight from Paris is Burning, was “Butch Queen in Pumps,” and demanded that contestants be as manly as possible while strutting in heels. The competition in this category was pretty fierce, as several very butch, bearded boys competed for trophy-glory. However, one particular dude, dressed in his football uniform finest, seemed to have the whole thing in the bag…

…or seemed to, until the Ball was crashed.

In the middle of the Butch Queen category, a lithe, sexy figure leapt on stage. We had a surprise competitor, but her garb didn’t really match the category…what was she doing up there? Suddenly, the audience realized what they were seeing: Raja!

Yes, drag superstar and the winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race season 3 had crashed our ball, and she had done so to enormous applause. Strutting around the stage, Raja vamped it up for the crowd, cooing, “I just wanted to compete.”

Although the crowd was thrilled by the surprise cameo, Raja was disqualified from the category for not fitting theme, but she didn’t care, nor did the crowd. It was a welcome distraction, and further proof that anything can happen at Peaches Christ’s Midnight Mass.

The prize ultimately went to the aforementioned football player, who justly earned his prize. He did, after all, do a headstand wearing football pads and red stilettos.

The final category, “Vogue Femme,” truly showed the audience what a Ball is all about. A bevy of dancers, voguing their way through calls by Spider, showed their very best for the judges. We saw classic poses and daring flips. The audience gasped in awe on several occasions as dancers vaulted through the air or weaved their hands in unimaginable ways. You may have seen Madonna’s video, but you’ve never seen voguing until you’ve seen it live. To say that the dancers almost seemed inhuman in their movements is an understatement. It was like watch true fluidity, ethereal grace set to a sweat-inducing beat. I was exhausted merely watching, but I was enthralled. The judges had a tough time weeding out the performers, as each brought something spectacular to the table.

The final prize ultimately went to dancer Ryan Davis, who proved to be a (really cute) being of living motion. His skill was remarkable, and he proved to be a very formidable foe on the dance floor.

With the final award given, the Ball came to a close, leaving the audience with the knowledge they had seen something truly unique. Peaches Christ actually had managed to pull off having a Ball in a movie theater, and it turned out to be pretty damn amazing.

As the judges cleared the stage, it was revealed that the crowd was in for one final treat before the movie began: Queer electro-hop duo Double Duchess were going to preview their new music video for the Castro, as well as accompany it with a live performance. As Double Duchess rocked the house, they were joined onstage by some of the voguers from earlier, tying the evening’s events together with one legendary bow.

With the preshow over and the Ball done, it was clear that Peaches Christ had, as always, celebrated the night’s movie in the grandest fashion.  Working with Peaches, I’ve had the opportunity to do a number of shows with her, and they’re always unique, but I have to say that Paris is Burning certainly stands as one for the ages. Defying expectations and truly delivering a pulse-pounding spectacle, this is a Midnight Mass they’ll be talking about for years to come.

As such, I offer my hearty congratulations to Peaches, Latrice, Double Duchess, and all the competitors for truly allowing the audience to have a ball.

…and, as a special note to my dear ghoulfriend: Peaches, you shot your arrow…and it went real high. Hooray for you.

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A predator in Prada, her eyes sweep the runway with a cold gaze. In the world of high fashion, Anna Wintour’s opinion is everything, and as the editor of Vogue, she evokes…

…wait, what?

I’ve just been informed by another of Peaches’ undead minions that, despite the grand flourishes of Anna Wintour’s Midnight Mass-esque persona, hers is not the vogue we’re here to talk about today. Instead, I’m here to take you to the floor and highlight the world of voguing, a dance movement that came from the gay Harlem ballroom scene and emerged into a cultural phenomenon.

To be fair, I knew all along this piece wasn’t about Ms. Wintour, but I couldn’t resist. After all, despite their worlds of difference, the Queen of Fashion and the Queens of the Ball have one huge thing in common: They both understand that presentation is everything.

As Peaches prepares to unleash Paris is Burning this weekend at the Castro Theater (with legendary guest star Latrice Royale), my dear ghoulfriend and I thought it wise to revisit the cultural impact of voguing on gay culture and beyond. Now, to truly explore the significance of this movement would require far more time than our little space here allows, so we decided to focus on one aspect that Peaches and I are always ready to celebrate: Film.

For a dance movement, the world of voguing has been extremely well-documented on celluloid, allowing historians visual access to a burgeoning counterculture from its very beginnings. A glance at the current pop culture landscape shows echoes and evocations of voguing everywhere, making it hard to believe that at one time it was solely part of the underground. Yet, before Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, and Dance Moms all added the model-like pose movements to their repertories, urban gays and drag queens were doing it first, sparking a dance revolution.

Taking this monumental progression into consideration, I’ve selected four films that I consider essential to the understanding of the ball culture’s rise to mainstream prominence. For better or worse, these films redefined a generation, and helped introduce this magical (and sometimes harrowing) world to outsiders.

So, without further ado, read, learn, and move.

Paris is Burning (dir. Jennie Livingston)

It is by no sheer coincidence or promotional trick that Paris is Burning tops this list. Jennie Livingston’s seminal documentary is, without argument, one of the most significant pieces of LGBT cinema ever produced, let alone the definitive word on ball culture. Seven years in the making, Paris is Burning reveals the lives of urban gay, transgender, and drag performers who participated in the “Golden Era” of the ball scene, detailing their real struggles amidst a world of dance competition.

Featuring such famed drag icons as Dorian Corey (right), Pepper LaBeija, Anji Xtravaganza, and many more, the film introduced to the zeitgeist the very language we now associate with drag queens. Ardent fans of RuPaul’s Drag Race ought to know that such key phrases as “shade,” “realness,” “sashay & shantay,” and more did not begin with the Supermodel to the World, but are, in fact, terms Ru learned from Paris is Burning. Just as Ru now teaches the children of drag, she too was taught by the queens of the ball scene. Solely by striving to create a little camaraderie and normalcy for their own community, the queens of Paris is Burning unknowingly laid the foundation for the modern drag-era. To be sure, present day queens are still trying to fill the shoes of these particular predecessors, and that’s a bar that’s set extraordinarily high.

Also extremely present in Paris is Burning is the iconic visage of Willi Ninja, a performer whose very presence defines the modern concept of voguing. By running the complex lives of the drag queens parallel to Ninja and his dancing constituents, the film shows an interconnected world of struggle, celebration, and community. Performing on the same stages, the dancers and queens alike create a world of living fantasy, allowing momentary escape from the all too harsh world around them. At once heartbreaking and inspiring, Paris is Burning is a definitive document of gay life at the time, and a reminder that you can, if only for a moment, dance your troubles away.

Madonna: Truth or Dare (dir. Alek Keshishian)

In 1990, two things happened to bring the art of voguing to the mainstream. The first, as mentioned, was the release of Paris is Burning, which made the world aware of the dance. The second was a song by Madonna, which made it a phenomenon.

Celebrated and reviled, vilified and venerated, there is no denying that Madonna is a gay icon. The release of her song “Vogue” was so essential to the 1990s landscape that I didn’t even have to mention it by name above, and yet you knew exactly what I was talking about. With her eye firmly on the underground, Madonna reached into the ball culture and pulled out a dance hit that brought the concept of voguing into every home in America. No longer was this strictly relegated to the gay underground, but kids in suburbia were voguing now, too. Moms, dads, neighbors, even your high school principal now knew what it meant to “strike a pose,” and the Material Girl’s flame was burning brighter than ever before.

Because of Madonna’s mainstreaming of the art form, there remains a cultural debate amongst the LGBT community: Is she a celebrator or an appropriator? While the matter of Madonna’s status as a thief or a champion won’t be settled anytime soon, there is no denying that the concept of voguing will forever be associated with pop music’s most controversial temptress. However, giving credit where credit is due, Madonna certainly cannot claim the patented moves herself. As previously mentioned, the look of modern vogue that we know and celebrate can most closely be connected to Willi Ninja. Recognizing this talent, Madonna brought him in to choreograph the music video for “Vogue,”
thus ensuring the moves we forever associate with the dance are those of its very master. So, though not always credited, Madonna had a genius orchestrating her moves from the shadows, creating a perfect union of talent and cunning.

So, what’s this have to do with film? I’ll tell you.

In 1991, the year after “Vogue” was released, Madonna unveiled her now infamous documentary Truth or Dare. Featuring many of the same dancers that appeared in the Ninja choreographed video, the film documented Madonna’s Blonde Ambition Tour, giving a unique backstage look of the pop star and her entourage. Not only does the film feature concert footage of Madonna performing “Vogue,” but it also has many candid moments of her and her dancers voguing and playing backstage. Whether the film is exploiting or celebrating the gays  in Madonna’s life is debatable, but it serves as a powerful document of a world ruled by Madonna in the wake of the “Vogue” phenomenon. Although fairly consistent in career, it is arguable that Madonna has never been more famous than she was in the era of Truth or Dare, and as such, we see the gay counterculture rising through her lens to the mainstream in ways it had never done before.

A provocative piece of filmmaking, Truth or Dare is a film of ambition, conquest, and dance, which are all attributes the queens of Paris is Burning would agree make anyone fierce.

How Do I Look (dir. Wolfgang Busch)

A spiritual sequel to Paris is Burning, Wolfgang Busch’s documentary returns to the subjects of Livingston’s groundbreaking film to examine the ball culture in the modern era. Although hardly as popular or celebrated as its predecessor, How Do I Look paints an all too revealing portrait of a community’s struggles decades on.  By interviewing luminaries such as Willi Ninja, Octavia St. Laurent, and others, the film examines the impact of HIV/AIDS on ball culture, and the endurance of hope in spite of tragic loss.

As many of the film’s subjects succumbed to illness over the course of its creation, the movie serves as a touching memorial to the original founders of the ball scene, all the while shedding light on the new generation who continue to dance for a better tomorrow. Updating the examination of the ball culture to the modern-era, How Do I Look shows that sometimes the more things change, the more they stay the same. However, with that said, the film also imparts the message that the endurance of hope, above all things, is what this is all truly about.

Leave it On the Floor (dir. Sheldon Larry)

They can’t all be documentaries, and though many dance-oriented films have referenced the stylistic approach of voguing (Save the Last Dance and the Step Up franchise come to mind), few have ever dared make it the focal point of the narrative. However, Sheldon Larry’s ambitious 2011 film Leave it on the Floor changes that, taking us into the world of the Los Angeles ball scene. Evoking the world of Paris is Burning, but moving the action to the modern West Coast, Leave it on the Floor tells the story of Brad (played to perfection by Ephraim Sykes), who runs away from home and finds himself taken in by ball performers.

Brad’s immersion into the LA ball scene easily draws parallels to Dorothy’s arrival in Oz, as his escape from the dreary world of his home life leads him into a world of color, populated with outrageous and amazing characters. The movie is truly a fist-pumping celebration of the ball scene, and Larry’s direction provides the viewer a colorful and heart-breaking look at a world of escape. Yet, the true genius of Leave it On the Floor is that it shows that via this escape, we sometimes find our own truths.

Earlier in the article, I referenced the fact that Beyoncé and Lady Gaga have both been known to vogue. The pair infamously vogued together in their video for “Video Phone,” performing a move called “The Leiomy Lolly” (invented by transgendered vogue superstar Leiomy Maldonado, for those keeping score at home). It is interesting to note that Beyoncé’s choreographer Frank Gatson Jr. is also the man responsible for the dance moves of Leave It On the Floor, and he pulls out all the stops to make the film’s numbers breathtakingly visual as possible. However, whether Brad or Beyoncé vogues better is up to the viewer to decide.

Remarkably fun and with killer dancing, Leave it On the Floor is really the perfect cherry on top of the vogue cinematic sundae, as it returns us to the spirit in which we entered: A celebration of life.

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In fairness to all the films mentioned, each one of them provides the audience with a reason to get up and dance. Indeed, there is so much more to be said about each work offered up today, I could likely spend a whole article on each. And what of all the voguing works we couldn’t cover? Countless music videos and films have showcased the amazing talents of vogue performers, and the cultural impact of this underground dance is not going anywhere anytime soon.

This is merely a primer, a way for you to discover the inner-dance floor diva we have in all of us. This weekend, as Peaches, Latrice, myself, and the whole of the Castro Theater sashay and shantay in celebration of this cultural movement, take second, wherever you are, to do the same. Above all else, voguing begins not with skill, but the need to express yourself… and don’t we all?

These films are a great place to start your discovery of this amazing world of dance and life, but also remember: It also starts with you. So, investigate what it means to have a ball, and then strike a pose.

After all, no matter how miserable it gets outside, I know a place where you can get away…

…it’s called a dance floor. And here’s what it’s for…

So, come on…

…you know the rest.

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If you’ve ever been thrilled by the ruby red splatter of blood or gasped in glee at images of sinewy guts, then there’s a strong chance you owe a debt of honor to Herschell Gordon Lewis.

A towering figure in the pantheon of fright, Lewis has been hailed by many as “The Godfather of Gore,” and it’s a title he’s earned every right to hold. Though blood and violence onscreen existed long before the audacious auteur hit the scene, it was with a veritable sense of sleaze that Herschell Gordon Lewis literally upped the ante of the horror genre to the visceral level it exists at today.

Declared by John Waters to be one of “the greatest filmmakers of all time,” Herschell Gordon Lewis began his legacy in fright films for the rather simple reason of needing to make a quick buck. In the late 50s, Lewis was working as a humanities teacher and ad man in Chicago, directing commercials in his spare time to supplement his income. After buying out the advertising studio he produced commercials for, Lewis turned his attention to larger projects: Film.

In 1959, Lewis joined forces with producer and distributor David Friedman (a veritable legend in his own right) to create Prime Time, the first of many collaborations, and also the first film produced in Chicago since the early 1900s. Although Lewis didn’t direct this initial foray into film, it was at this point he began to cut his teeth in the world of cinema, and it was the experience of shooting Prime Time that informed all that would follow.

“I just listened to too many people,” Lewis said of the experience in an interview with The Onion’s AV Club.  “It cost far more than it should have, and it was kind of useless, which I realized even as we were making it.”

Constantly learning and ever the economist, when Lewis next stepped on set, he was determined to not make the mistakes of his previous outing. With 1961’s Living Venus, Lewis took on the mantle of director for the first time, and exploitation cinema has never been the same.

Throughout the early 1960s, Lewis and Friedman launched an all-out sleaze attack on the drive-in, crafting not horror films, but sex cinema and nudie cuties. Inspired by the work of Russ Meyer, the duo took advantage of the blooming sexual revolution by offering up a buffet of filmic lust. With features like The Adventures of Lucky Pierre, Nature’s Playmates, and Goldilocks and the Three Bares, Lewis and Friedman introduced a grittier side of sex films, and the audiences who were hip to the cause ate it up.

However, in 1963, the course of Lewis’ career would change forever. With the swinging world of sex cinema slowing waning, Lewis and Friedman looked to other markets to continue to develop their craft. Their sights landed on the cinematically dubious genre of horror, and thus, Blood Feast was born.

“We intended it as a specialty film that we might show on Halloween, that type of limited showing, to be euphemistic.” Despite all intent, Lewis and Friedman had no idea what they were about to unleash.

A landmark film, Blood Feast became instantly notorious. The story of a caterer who uses body parts of victims for his meals (all the while sacrificing to an Egyptian goddess) was unlike anything that audiences had ever seen. Hailed by many as the first true gore film, Blood Feast was violent, blood-soaked, and left viewers equally revolted and engaged.

In a retrospective review, AllMovies referred to Blood Feast as one of “the important releases in film history, ushering in a new acceptance of explicit violence that was obviously just waiting to be exploited.” Lewis, to his credit, calls it something much simpler: “A watershed.”

Following the drive-in success of Blood Feast, Lewis and Friedman were able to hit the newly found gore market hard. In the short time span following, the team released two more instant icky classics: 1964’s Two Thousand Maniacs and 1965’s Color Me Blood Red.  Audiences marveled as Lewis and Friedman pulled back the curtain to reveal to them crazy southern cannibals and blood-thirsty artists in shocking situations never before seen on the silver screen. Horror directors and international auteurs the world over were scrambling to emulate this newly found visceral style.

Following the completion of what fans dubbed the “Blood Trilogy,” Friedman and Lewis parted ways, Color Me Blood Red being their swan song as a team, their legacy all but assured. However, never one to rest on his laurels, Herschell blazed forward in the world of film.

Bouncing back and forth between gore and the sexploitation films that started his career, the now solo Lewis continued to thrive. With a near consistent output, Lewis released cult gems like 1967’s Gruesome Twosome and 1968’s She-Devils on Wheels, proving he was just as prolific as ever.

One notable entry that came in 1967 was Lewis’ epic, A Taste of Blood. Occasionally referred to as “The Gone With the Wind of Gore,” A Taste of Blood, about a salesman turned vampire, clocks in at over two hours, making it Lewis’ longest running film to date. In a genre where films usually are no longer than 90 minutes, Lewis’ lengthy approach was unheard of, but achieved in a way only a true master could execute.

Other notable films of the following decade included Lewis’ tale of crazed street gangs, Just for the Hell of It, and 1970’s Wizard of Gore (this is the movie Jason Bateman and Ellen Page watch together in Juno). Still celebrated by many, Wizard of Gore, about a magician with a less than credible stage act, remains one of the most cited gore films of a generation. Frequently referenced by this generation’s violence aficionados like Quentin Tarantino and Eli Roth, Wizard of Gore was later remade in 2007 into a film of the same name starring Crispin Glover.

In 1972, Lewis entered relative retirement with The Gore Gore Girls (a personal favorite of this writer). The film, featuring comic legend Henny Youngman, shows a master filmmaker going out on top. The film, about a rash of stripper murders, is easily one of Lewis’ best. Acerbic and sassy, The Gore Gore Girls mixes humor and horror together in a delicious blend long before it was a chic thing to do. So beloved is this particular film here at Midnight Mass HQ, it was the point of reference Peaches Christ herself used in her opening song for the All About Evil stage show, titled Gore Gore Girl. It’s no secret that my dear ghoulfriend and I are both whores for the gore because of the great Herschell Gordon Lewis.

With nearly forty film titles to his credit, the legacy of Herschell Gordon Lewis endures. In 2002, the director returned to the set for the first time in 30 years to direct a sequel to Blood Feast (titled Blood Feast 2: All U Can Eat) and crafted an original work in 2009 called The Uh-Oh Show. The return of Lewis to the silver screen was celebrated by fright fans the world over, and with just cause. The genre was forever changed by this auteur’s sense of cinematic bloodlust, and the very look of horror was forever altered in his wake.

Perhaps the most shocking fact about Lewis, however, is the life he lives outside of the world of scares. As proven by his economical approach to filmmaking, Lewis is a master of business. To a whole other community, Lewis is known as one of the foremost experts in direct marketing. In the three decades between directorial efforts, Lewis carved out a career for himself in the world of high powered advertising, becoming an advisor to the elite and one of the world’s most trusted experts on copywriting and marketing.

Whether for carnage or copyright, Lewis is a trusted source who is celebrated by many camps the world over. His legacy was recently documented in Frank Henenlotter’s documentary The Godfather of Gore, and Lewis recently told his own tale by way of a similarly titled autobiography, The Godfather of Gore Speaks. His work is still constantly discussed, dissected, and scrutinized by academics and fans alike.

In fact, in a major discovery of the last year, three previously lost films of Lewis’ early days (The Ecstasies of Women, Black Love, and Linda and Abilene) were found and restored, allowing a whole new generation of fans to discover works by a master that were originally thought forever gone. For those in the know, this discovery is tantamount to finding a lost recording by The Beatles. Such is the legacy of Herschell Gordon Lewis.

I’m going to level with you, my dear children of the popcorn. When this column was started, the entire purpose was to introduce to this generation and celebrate some of the very best cult filmmakers the world of shock cinema had to offer. I would be remiss if I did not say that, of all the entries thus far, Herschell Gordon Lewis may, in fact, be the most important Cult Filmmaker You Should Know. So important is his legacy, I can say without hesitation that, if not for Herschell, modern horror as it stands would not exist today. From John Waters to Troma, John Carpenter to Eli Roth, all of the greats of the last fifty years bear the mark of Herschell Gordon Lewis and the world of weird he left behind.

If you’re a modern monster kid living in the world today, think of Herschell Gordon Lewis as your grandfather in gore, or, as previous Cult Filmmaker honoree Amy Lynn Best said, “At the least, your grandma [in gore’s] creepy fun friend.”

So, if you’re previously unfamiliar with the work of this icon, do yourself a favor: Indulge in your bloodlust.

We salute you, Herschell…for being all that you are, and for making us all “whores for the gore.”

Until next time.

 

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Photos by Nicole Fraser-Herron

 

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Photos by Brian Benson

 

In the midst of a discussion about the pitfalls of filmmaking, I suggest to iconic director Jeff Burr that he should teach a master class on the subject. Burr laughs me off with a word of polite thanks before moving onward, but I remain serious in my assertion.

Known by many genre fans for his contributions to existent franchises and off-beat indie fare, Burr has made an impact on the horror community over the last three decades by pushing ever forward with his craft. Although likely most identified as the man who gave the Sawyer family life anew in Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3, Burr’s wide body of work encompasses a plethora of thrills and chills that have helped give him the insight to inspire and advise a new generation of filmmakers.

In fact, it is Burr’s place as an inspiration to those that have grown up with his films that led to our little fireside chat today. Recently contacted by Henrique Couto, an Ohio-based independent filmmaker, Burr was surprised to discover that one of his lesser known films, Eddie Presley, had served as an inspiration to Couto on his own forthcoming feature, Depression: The Movie. Now, thanks to the cinematic kinship of the two films, Eddie Presley and Depression are set to play a once in a lifetime double bill at the Hollywood Theater in Pittsburgh, PA…and Burr couldn’t be more tickled about the idea.

Not surprisingly, it’s a sentiment Couto wholeheartedly shares.

“Jeff’s work had a huge impact on the landscape of film when I was growing up. His work always stuck out,” Couto tells me. “Sharing the bill with Eddie Presley feels incredible; Eddie Presley was how I learned films could really be personal and full of feeling. My idea of why films are made was entirely changed upon my first viewing of that film. There would be no Depression: The Movie without Eddie Presley.”

Forever excited and passionate about films, my plan to sit down with Jeff Burr to discuss the theatrical revival of Eddie Presley developed into a full-fledged conversation about the ups and downs of a career of cinematic carnage. From directing Vincent Price to the revelation that the real massacre in Texas may have happened behind the camera, Burr painted an earnest portrait of a career on the fringe.

Gracious and inspiring, Burr was more than willing to dish on his illustrious career and to give some valuable advice for filmmakers with a taste for fright. A true cult icon whose career developed from a whisper to a scream, I’m proud to present to you, my dear children of the popcorn, the legendary Jeff Burr.

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We’re big fans of horror hosts here at Midnight Mass HQ, and we routinely celebrate the likes of Elvira, Rhonda Shear, John Stanley, etc. Because of this, I was delighted to discover that you attribute some of your earliest interest in the genre to your local host, Dr. Shock.

Yes! A guy named Tom Reynolds, whose name I didn’t even know growing up, and Dan East. They were Dr. Shock and Dingbat, out of Channel 9, Chattanooga, Tennessee. It was much more comedic than scary, in the same vein as Bernie Anderson (aka Ghoulardi – right) and Mad Magazine. They were the channel that had the Shock Theater package from the 50s, so they showed all the Universal Horror films. It was an odd combination, Universal Horror, silly humor, and a lot of cheap-exploitation films from the 60s and 70s. I was a regular watcher of that, for sure.

Would you say that it was the discovery of Dr. Shock and horror that drove you to make films, or were you just a casual fan to start?

I was always interested in film. One of the first movies I remember seeing in the theater was Frankenstein Conquers the World. It was a double-bill with Tarzan and the Valley of Gold, so I think it was around 1966. It was just amazing to me, to see this little kid grow up into a monster and fight another monster…which also led to a love of Japanese monster movies. So, I can’t say that Dr. Shock directly led to me wanting to be a filmmaker, but it certainly fed my love of the genre and movies.

As you know, in that era of the late-60s/early-70s, there was no cable to speak of, at least where I lived. Also, VHS was not really yet a thing. So, you either saw a film in the theater, or you saw it later on television, where it would have been chopped up and edited. So, it was great to have that outlet in some capacity. I was also a fan of magazines like Castle Frankenstein, The Monster Times, and Famous Monsters, but they were hard to find. You’d read about a film and hope to see it at some point.

It’s funny that you mention Frankenstein Conquers the World being one of the films that you recall seeing first in the theaters, because you did later go on to work on a Frankenstein film with David DeCoteau, titled Frankenstein & The Werewolf Reborn!

Well, DeCoteau made the Frankenstein half of the film and I made the werewolf half, so I can’t really claim there was any solid connection between the two. I also didn’t mean to suggest that Frankenstein Conquers the World was the very first film I saw in the theaters, it just was one of the earliest. In fact, I believe the very first movie I ever saw in the theater was a James Bond film, Thunderball. I remember being vividly horrified when a character got trapped in an airplane cockpit underwater and drowned. That just shook me.

It’s interesting to me that this vivid scene of violence stuck with you in Thunderball, because you’re certainly no stranger to violence in your own films.  You’ve always had a rather dubious relationship with the MPAA. The initial cuts of Texas Chainsaw 3, Stepfather 2, From a Whisper, and Night of the Scarecrow all initially got slapped with an X-rating. Do you think, both as a genre enthusiast and a filmmaker, this upfront finger-wagging only adds to the mythos of a fright flick? Or is it ultimately just a pain in the ass for you as a director?

At the time I was making those movies, the pendulum had swung back toward the conservative side. Almost everything that was cut out of those movies then, you could probably show on television now. It really was just the political climate and mood of the country more than anything. Not to mention the mood of the MPPA.

I’ll tell you, even at its most graphic, Leatherface, or even the scenes from Stepfather 2 and From a Whisper, could easily pass with an R-rating today…especially when you look at what they’ve been able to get away with in the Saw films and other similar movies. But, the pendulum may be swinging back to the conservative side again. Who knows?

Well, the reason I asked about the MPAA is because you mentioned growing up reading magazines like Castle Frankenstein and Famous Monsters…

The reason I mentioned those is because growing up in a small town in Georgia , they were kind of a lifeline. There wasn’t a lot of press or material that was available on the background of these movies, or the genre in general. Pre-Star Wars, movies really hadn’t given over to press sensationalism and merchandising, so it was hard to get information on some of these films. Those magazines were like reading drumbeats from a tribe that was your own, but you didn’t know where the circle was…it was just amazingly validating to get these magazines. It was just nice to know there were people who liked these movies too, because even then it was considered very odd, very left of center to the mainstream.

Right, I know that I, and many of our readers, can sympathize. I grew up in a rural area, and we didn’t really get much. For my generation, Fangoria was that lifeline. The reason I made the MPAA connection was because, not only was it a revelation to know other people loved these movies, but whenever I’d read an article that made it seem like a movie was “too shocking for theaters” or “too dangerous” to go uncensored, it just made me want to see it more.

Of course! That’s the forbidden fruit, absolutely. That was the basis of 70s exploitation movies, because they were definitive of what you could not see on television. That’s what I sought out, too. You wanted the R-rated horror or action film, as opposed to G/PG fare; because you knew there would be something controversial or titillating in those movies.

That’s something that irritated the hell out of me on Leatherface. It got a lot of publicity, certainly within the industry, before it came out because of all the ratings cuts. If they could have, or would have, released an unrated version, I think it would have done pretty well the opening weekend. It would have had a lesser release, true, but the way they released it was just kind of dumping the movie anyway. So, I think it would have done better unrated for exactly the reasons you say, because people are drawn to the controversy. What’s worse, though, is they then marketed the movie as “the most controversial horror film ever,” which kind of set the audience up for a big disappointment if that’s what they were expecting.

As a little kid who was reading those horror movie magazines, getting a lifeline to the genre, it’s inevitable that you would have run across one of the poster boys of the era, Vincent Price, in the pages of Famous Monsters and the like.  On your second film, The Offspring, you achieved every fan’s dream by casting him. Rumor has it you nabbed Vincent Price for the role simply by knocking on his front door and asking. Is that true?

That’s how it started. The truth is, of course, a little more complicated. But, that’s exactly how we began the whole process. I figured, “He’s never going to respond to the mail of an unknown filmmaker,” and I assumed the script would just be thrown into a stack of rejected screenplays. So, the producer and I got his address from a celebrity address service, and we went up to his door with the script and a bottle of wine in hand (Price was a noted wine connoisseur).  We came bearing gifts, and wouldn’t you know… he opened the door himself when we knocked! It was a flurry of “Gee, Mr. Price, we’re fans of your work…” and “we wrote this script,” and he actually invited us inside.  He had ever y reason to ignore us, and even if it was on a polite level, he could have said, “Okay boys, contact my agent,” but he was just so gracious. He invited us in, sat and talked with us for about 15 minutes, took the script, and that’s how it all started. I would say we did the right thing by going there, because that kept us in his mind for a while. It took a bit to submit the deal, because part of it was showing him some of the movie that we shot, etc. It took about six months before he actually agreed to do it, but I think it was a combination of our persistence and his bemusement over our persistence. At that point in his career, it’s not that he wasn’t getting offers, but I think a lot of people just assumed he was too expensive for a lower budget horror film. I think, for sure, The Offspring was the lowest budget film her ever made as a professional.

As a horror fan, coming into only your second film, was it intimidating to direct someone with that much legacy behind them?

I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, and I don’t want to seem arrogant, but at a certain point, you have to forget that they are a legend and direct them as an actor. You have to work professionally with them. I would never say we were on the same level, he taught me a lot. But, you have to get over whatever fandom part of the equation there is and deal with him as an actor and how he’s going to integrate into the movie you have in your head. And with that said, he was nothing but professional, gracious, and accommodating to any direction I gave him and the task at hand. He was just amazing. He literally came to me and said, “I want direction.” I think he wanted to allay those fears in me right away. He could have been the eight-hundred pound gorilla, but he was absolutely gracious, exactly what you’d expect from an actor of that caliber. He was an increasingly rare kind of actor who was extremely generous with his talent and his time.

From directing Vincent Price, your next film was Stepfather 2, then Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3. You became something of an MVP crafting sequels to popular horror films. Is there added pressure when contributing a new installment to a franchise? For example, Leatherface made you quite literally the first filmmaker to take the reins from Tobe Hooper, who not only directed the first two, but created the whole thing. Is that an intimidating thing to take on?

Well, I guess if you really thought about it…-laughs-

Again, you have to approach it as a professional first. In the case of Leatherface, it might have been a bit of a different scenario if I had come on the film at a more normal time. I was hired very late in the game, and I was replacing other directors, so I really didn’t have time to contemplate that sort of thing, because I literally had to enter rolling up my sleeves and figure out how to get the film across in the amount of time given, working with a company I had never worked with before.  I certainly wasn’t their first choice, but I don’t think I was their fifth choice, either. So, it’s nothing against them, but I was kind of an inexperienced director, but I also think I was the first guy who said “yes,” that they were able to then say, “Eh, he won’t screw it up too bad.”

My position there was a lot more tenuous than I initially thought. Because I was so late in the game, we had to start shooting two weeks after I was hired.  I was thinking that once we got started, they’d eventually let me run with it, because there was no time to argue. That really wasn’t the case.

I will say that Leatherface was the first picture I did without a producer that I knew. That was the first Hollywood film for a company where I was the director and had no support system. I was just a director, as opposed to director/producer, etc. My brother produced my first two movies, along with a guy I went to school with, Darin Scott. They let me be creative without questioning every decision I made. That was exactly the opposite of the situation on Leatherface. Every creative decision had to be justified to a hundred different people. Which is, honestly, professional directing for hire. I didn’t get that or know it to that degree at the time.

Well, based on this information and your earlier discussion of some of the cuts made to the film, are you satisfied with Leatherface as it stands? Or do you wish you could have had more control over the process?

As a filmmaker, I view the whole process of making a movie a very holistic thing, where every department works in concert with the director’s vision. So, that really demands more control. I’ve never understood how a director could shoot something and not edit it, for example. When you shoot something, you’re shooting with the editing in mind, the sound effects in mind, the music, everything. It’s all in your head. So, to not have that ability to see it through, yes…it’s very disappointing. Any movie has degrees of that, though. So, am I satisfied? I’ve never been satisfied with any movie I’ve made. I think any filmmaker would say the same. There’s always something you would want to do differently, and especially on a production like Leatherface where a lot of the decisions were compromised.

For Leatherface, because I didn’t come on until rather late in the game, there were a lot of key decisions made that I had nothing to do with, including shooting the film in Los Angeles and building the house to the degree which they did. I would not have done either of those things, and I would have liked to have shot it in 16mm. I also would have had Gunnar Hansen in it, etc. But, that doesn’t necessarily mean that those things would have made a satisfying movie, either.  Let’s be honest, the first and the second Texas Chainsaw films kind of run the spectrum of the subject matter. You have the documentary style of the first one. It’s incredibly creepy, grueling, and amateur in a meaningful way. The second one is a very glossy, “high budget” film with a star. It is a completely different take on the subject matter. Much more satiric and comedic, maybe even political, given the time it was made. So, going from those two extremes, anything you would have made, no matter how you would have made it, would have fallen between those two poles. I think a third movie of that franchise was kind of, not doomed, per se, but certainly by comparison always was going to be a lesser movie when compared to those two. Add to the fact that it was a New Line production around the time Freddy was in decline, so they were sort of looking for other horror franchises, so that had added pressure unto itself. I’m not saying it was a doomed project from the beginning, but it was the third movie of a would-be series, it was destined to always be an odd compromise.

I will tell you this, I am proud of some of the things I did on the movie. I think the cast is a lot of fun, and I think the film does have a lot to offer. It’s a pretty good movie for the budget. So, I’m not dismissing the movie, either.

You mentioned Texas Chainsaw 2, which starred Caroline Williams, who you worked with on Stepfather 2 immediately prior to shooting Leatherface. Did you know at the time you’d be working on the third Texas Chainsaw? Or did the quick nature of your hiring not allow for that foresight? I’m just curious to know if Caroline, as a Chainsaw alum, had any advice for you as you were heading to “Texas.”

When I was making Stepfather 2, I had absolutely no knowledge I’d be taking on Leatherface. We shot Stepfather 2 at the end of 1988, going into 89. Though, I think Stepfather 2 got me the job for Leatherface, because New Line screened it and then had my agent call me in for a meeting. That would have been in April of 89, and then New Line didn’t officially hire me until June. So, no, I didn’t know.  Also, the casting of Caroline in Stepfather 2 wasn’t predicated on the fact that she was in Texas Chainsaw 2, but rather because I thought she was wonderful for the role. She had this great Holly Hunter quality for the movie, and she’s just so much fun.

Though, when I got the job to do Leatherface, I called up Caroline and said, “Hey, I’m doing this, would you mind making an appearance?” I wanted her to do a little bit more of an extensive cameo, but the producers would not allow it, so it had to be a silent thing. I certainly asked her about Tobe, but I don’t really remember asking her for any advice. There really wasn’t any connection between the second and third films, although there was some half-assed attempt at continuity. Our movie sort of acts like the second film doesn’t exist.

Shortly thereafter, in 1992, that’s when you made Eddie Presley. It’s a little bit different than the genre fare for which you’re primarily known. For the people who may be going to see it at its upcoming event screening in Pittsburgh, or for those discovering it at home on DVD, what can you tell us about the film?

For one thing, although not the only thing, it definitely was a direct response to my Leatherface experience. I wanted to go back to an independent film situation where I could control everything and have my own directorial back. My experience making Leatherface totally informed every bit of making Eddie Presley.

…and very tangentially, but real, Tobe Hooper helped finance Eddie Presley, and he probably doesn’t even know it. We had a big meeting with investors that flew out to California from Texas to invest in the movie. We had a dinner at a very famous restaurant called Musso & Frank’s, and the investors were meeting me there. We’re outside the restaurant, walking in, and Tobe Hooper is walking out. He spots me and says, “Oh, hey Jeff! I haven’t seen you since we had our breakfast about Leatherface…” and it seemed like he was my best friend, even though we had only met a couple times. The investors were so impressed with that, it encouraged them to invest in Eddie Presley.

It’s a low-budget film, but it’s one I had complete control over. We adapted a one-act play I had seen, and expanded it into this slice of LA life character study. I think the movie, whatever else it does or doesn’t do, certainly captures Los Angeles in the pre-riot, Daryl Gates police chief-era of 1991.

It is a lower budget film that was independently financed, but you somehow managed to put together this “Ocean’s 11 of Cult” ensemble. Quentin Tarantino, Bruce Campbell, Kitten Natividad, Ted Raimi, to name just a few, all make appearances. How did you go about casting the film and getting these people attached?

There was no formal casting director, just me. I love actors, so some of the people were friends of mine, some were people I worked with before, and some were friends of friends. All were people I loved that we got in very non-traditional ways. It was an unusual type of film, and all the roles were pretty unusual, so all the actors who were in the film really took a leap of faith.

It really is an amazing cast of, as you say, “The Ocean’s 11 of Cult Films.” Tim Thomerson, Roscoe Lee Brown, Bruce Campbell, Ted Raimi. And Quentin, he was someone I had only met a few months prior. We met before Reservoir Dogs. So, he wasn’t QUENTIN at the time, but he had shot Reservoir Dogs. It just hadn’t come out yet.

Quentin Tarantino later cast Duane Whitaker, who is in Eddie Presley, in Pulp Fiction. Furthermore, Duane Whitaker has a line in Pulp Fiction, “Is it Tuesday or Wednesday?” A line, which, he also says in Eddie Presley.

I did not know that! I hadn’t made that connection. I know the context of the line in Eddie Presley, of course. That is a huge coincidence, if it is one, for sure. However, Duane Whitaker’s getting cast in Pulp Fiction wasn’t a coincidence at all.

Since we leapt right into discussion of Eddie Presley, I would be a little remiss if I didn’t mention the fact that the film has been selected by indie filmmaker Henrique Couto to play in Pittsburgh (as previously alluded to) as the second half of a double bill that also features his movie, Depression. Did you know Henrique prior the film pairing?

I met Henrique at a horror convention in Louisville. He came up to me and told me that he loved Eddie Presley, which, as you can imagine, is not something I hear every day. That made us immediately friends. –laughs-

He told me about Depression, and that Eddie Presley was inspiration for that movie. I met him again at Cinema Wasteland, and the movie was done. He gave me a copy, and told me about how he was trying to arrange a screening. I feel honored that Henrique, a young filmmaker, would want to pair his movie with Eddie Presley. I think it’s a dynamite-ly depressing double bill, and I’m honored he’d want them together. I think it’s a good companion piece for his movie. I also think that Depression is a big leap for him as a filmmaker. It’s a very funny, very engaging, and surprisingly tender movie.

I think that it’s really cool that you’re being so supportive of Henrique and are willing to be part of the double feature. You’ve got a wide array of credits to your name, and are certainly known among horror fans. There are a number of indie and low-budget filmmakers out there who the “names” of the genre usually don’t give a second glance. Do you think it’s important or crucial to the genre for people of your caliber to support them?

Of course! That’s the nature of the game. I’m going to use a phrase, and I don’t mean to include myself in the phrase, but you “climb up the backs of giants” in any art form. You’re influenced by the people that came before you. So, it’s your artistic duty to support the new wave. That doesn’t mean that the old wave, so to speak, is irrelevant. At any given time, there might be a movie of mine showing on cable or something, and it’s an honor that people want to see anything I’ve done years after the fact. If someone is influenced by or wants to see a movie you’ve made, that’s one of the joys of filmmaking…or any kind of art, really. To create something that someone is getting something out of many years later, that’s a major compliment.

Depression is a very a-typical, no budget movie. Whereas you meet a lot of indie filmmakers at conventions, they may have their versions of Saw or a zombie movie, this is really a leap forward as a filmmaker. Henrique has made a unique, almost Kevin Smith-esque movie, but I don’t even want to make that comparison, because it’s wholly its own thing. Only Henrique could have made it, and that’s what we all strive for in film.

Absolutely, older filmmakers should help, support, and mentor younger filmmakers. When I was a beginning filmmaker, I was given support by a variety of people and it was invaluable. Just on a mental level, it’s invaluable. The problems you have on the low-budget films are the problems that I have making a little bit above a no-budget film, and I’m sure they’re the same problems Steven Spielberg has making the 200 million dollar film. No one tells you these things when you start. Filmmaking is filmmaking at all levels. So, there’s always information and interesting techniques that you can glean from a variety of filmmakers.

It certainly seems, based on this discussion, that you’re connected to and proud of all your work. But, I’ve read other interviews you’ve given and even in things you’ve said here, Eddie Presley stands out for you.

Personally, to this day, I feel like I have three films I can call my own: From a Whisper to a Scream, Eddie Presley, and Straight into Darkness. Those were the ones that, if I was a politician, I’d say, “I’m Jeff Burr, and I approve this message.” Those are the three. Now, maybe people think the other ones are better than those three, but that’s neither here or there for me. The other ones had decisions that were made, in my estimation, that weren’t the best. So, those are the three I stand behind without a mountain of qualifications. Every movie I’ve done, I’m dissatisfied with, because the gap between what I wanted to do and what I did is fairly great. But with those ones, it’s less. There’s always that dissatisfaction, for me personally, hopefully not the audience. However, that means that, as a filmmaker, you’re always trying to learn with each movie. I also think the day you make a movie that you’re totally satisfied with, and you would never change a thing, then you should retire, because it will never get better.

That’s solid advice for filmmakers, new and old.

If you’re a filmmaker and say that, it’s a red flag to me. It’s just very suspicious. Not necessarily in an interview, but even in one-on-one conversation. Anyone who loves their own work that much, I’m very suspicious of…-laughs-

Ever looking to better yourself and move forward, I know that you’re still working on films.  A film called Tornado Warning being your most recent.

It’s my most recent feature, yes. It’s a movie I did for SyFy Network. Insert punch line here.

So, what is next for Jeff Burr?

I’m writing several scripts. I’d love to direct another film. Getting paid to direct something is a Godsend. You’re getting paid to do something you absolutely love. So, I have nothing but gratitude for the chance to work in the field. That said, someone once said that “making a film is like doing a crossword puzzle in a falling elevator.” It is possible, but it takes extreme concentration. So, that’s what it’s all about. The older I get, the more concentration I want to give. When you’re a young filmmaker, you want to make a film to make a film. You’re dying to make a film, any film. The older you get, you really you care more about what kind of film you do, because you know the headaches and heartaches that go into the process. You want to be discerning. That’s where I’m at right now. Of course, I have to make a living too. So, if SyFy Channel wants me to direct another movie, Hell yes, I’m going to direct that movie. Plus, it keeps you in practice. Also, you never know, you may meet an actor you want to put in another project. It’s always good to work, rather than not work.

I do have a project I want to do though, it’s a very strange comedy. I’ve been working on it for a while now, and I really can’t say much more about it. I also absolutely want to do another horror film.

As for older stuff, I don’t have a date yet, but Night of the Scarecrow is going to be out on Blu-Ray from Olive Films, probably sometime in 2013.

Any special features Night of the Scarecrow fans can expect?

There will definitely be a new commentary. I’m trying to do more, if they’ll let me. –laughs-

I asked our readers, via Twitter, whether they had any questions for you. I picked the following out, from Elizabeth Foreman, because I am also curious about your answer.  Elizabeth asks, “Is it possible to shock anymore? What lengths/limits would you push in a film to get that shock factor?”

That’s a great question. I’d say it’s always possible, but it also depends on how you define a shock. I think it’s obviously harder to shock, but the human mind always contains the capability. It’s possible, but it’s not easily done. I think it’s a combination of atmosphere and situation. The feeling leading into the shock is now more important than ever.

So, I guess my follow-up to that would be to ask whether you’ve seen a film in the last five years that has shocked you?

I’d have to give that some thought. I do have an intense dislike of situations where I feel like the filmmaker is trying to shock. Situations where it’s so blatantly obvious that all they have in their repertoire is to reach for shock and nothing else. I haven’t seen A Serbian Film, which I have heard that if it doesn’t shock you, you don’t have a pulse…but, I think that’s the whole reason for that film to exist, and I don’t feel like that’s a good road to drive on.  Because I haven’t seen A Serbian Film or the few others that came out in a similar vein, I can’t really say for sure. So, while I’m sure there is a film that’s out there that has been made in the last five year period that would shock me, I just haven’t seen it yet.

Your passion for film is obvious, and you seem to have a lot of plans for the future. It’s inspiring.

I love making films now as much as I did when I was a kid making Super 8 films in the backyard. There’s still a lot of that same guy in me when I make films now. It is fun and I enjoy it, and that’s never going away. If Hollywood hasn’t kicked it out of me yet, they never will. I’ll always have that enthusiasm and passion, and I just want to channel it into projects that can go the distance. I’ve never made a film that quite goes the distance, for a variety of reasons. That’s my hope, my goal, and my aspiration.

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For more info on Jeff Burr, please visit http://www.jeffburr.com/

To check out Henrique Coutou & Depression: The Movie, please visit http://freakproductions.net/depression/index.html

For our readers in the greater Pittsburgh area, check out the event screening/double feature of Depression and Eddie Presley at the Hollywood Theater (http://www.thehollywooddormont.org) on December 7^th, 2012