Movies At Dog Farm Live Events And The Origins Of This Site - A History

     I've just celebrated my forty-fifth birthday.  One of the only bits of enduring wisdom I can share with the youngsters is this: write down everything.  Someday you're going to have trouble remembering.  In preparing for the fourth Movies At Dog Farm live event, it occurred to me that I've never really laid down a history of these live events.  I'm already having trouble remembering particulars, so it's time for a little historical preservation.

     Movies At Dog Farm was a mini movie festival well before this site was ever conceived.  My good friend Phil Neff, a professional photographer, had been in the habit of hosting a weekend long gathering for photographers and models once or twice a year at his home in Timberville, VA.  Phil's home also happens to be a dog boarding facility situated on a gorgeous, wooded, and remote property.  Yes, Virginia, there is a real Dog Farm.  First, though, I have to go back a little further to explain how the notion of programming movies for Phil's event first came about.

     I had concocted something I christened the First Annual Drive-In Movie Summer Series for myself and a couple of friends in the summer of 2011.  We met at my house once a week for thirteen weeks and watched one in a series of movies I had selected.  Inside.  On a television.  That name referenced the nature of the movies we watched rather than the mode of presentation.  I tried to do it up right, though.  I even prepared a program that offered bullet points for each movie to provide at least a modicum of historical context and  factual info for each title.  My two "subjects" were not inveterate genre fans, so I was hoping this would be a bit of a learning experience for them.  

     My selections were intended to be a representative sampling of drive-in fare spanning the years 1971 to 1981, which I dubbed the last golden age of the drive-in theater.  "Drive-in movie" is an admittedly non-specific term, but for the purposes of this series I defined it as any movie that possessed a healthy dose of WTF and spent a sizable portion of its theatrical run playing drive-ins.   For the record, the thirteen movies selected were: Zombie (1979), Ilsa, Harem Keeper Of The Oil Sheiks (1976), Private Parts (1972), Squirm (1976), Wolfen (1981), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), Shivers (1975), Let Sleeping Corpses Lie (1974), The Manitou (1978), Mountain Of The Cannibal God (1978), It's Alive (1974), Motel Hell (1980), and The Beyond (1981).

     The First Annual Drive-In Movie Summer Series went off with nary a hitch, and I immediately began to acquire movies for a follow-up provisionally titled Son Of Summer Series.  Unfortunately, it gradually became apparent that Son Of Summer Series wasn't going to happen.  I was already sitting on a stack of new DVDs, though, and I bellyached to Phil about the cruel fate that had befallen my burgeoning B-movie brainchild.  Phil asked if I'd be willing to transmogrify my failed Summer Series into nighttime entertainment for his guests at his next photography event, and I of course accepted.  I sell audio/video equipment for a living, so I knew I'd be able to procure a projector and speakers for the event from my employer.

     That first Movies At Dog Farm live event was still months away at that point, which afforded me plenty of time to decide exactly which titles might find an appreciative audience at Phil's.  I don't care what anyone else may tell you - programming movies for a film festival isn't for the faint of heart.  I really had no idea what might play well to this particular audience, and I chose titles and subsequently discarded my choices with alarming regularity for the next four months.  During that same time period I also created a Movies At Dog Farm group page on Facebook in the hopes of getting to know a little something about my intended audience.  That Facebook page remained active after the first event, and it ultimately became the site you see before you when Phil pointed out that my increasingly lengthy "comments" on Facebook began to read more like blog entries.  

     For anyone who's ever wondered: that Facebook group is why my empire of dust has always been called Movies At Dog Farm rather than Movies At The Dog Farm.  I thought it read better without the article.  Phil said the missing article made it sound like I was employing the Frankenstein monster's mode of expression (Fire bad! Movies At Dog Farm good!) and of course, Phil's remark just guaranteed it remained  Movies At Dog Farm.  I regret nothing.

     I finally nailed down the last of four titles just a few weeks before the event, with the intent of showing one on Friday night and three on Saturday night.  The four movies chosen for the event were Pieces (1982), Contamination (1980), Cemetery Man (1994), and Suspiria (1977).  Phil made a screen to hang up outdoors, and I began to work out the logistics of setting up 5.1 Dolby Digital Surround Sound in the woods surrounding the viewing area.  Obviously, that was overkill for movies this old, but I was personally enamored of the idea of both seeing and hearing Suspiria outside in all it of its bludgeoning auditory glory.  Not surprisingly, it rained the entire weekend, and I ended up spending an inordinate amount of time moving speakers in and out of the rain.

     Pieces was the only movie scheduled for Friday night, and it's worth noting that it was the one title of the four selections about which I had the most reservations.  I knew everyone would either get into the right frame of mind to appreciate its not-so-subtle charms or else the presentation would sink like a stone.  I didn't see the potential for much middle ground there.  Fortunately, it went over like gangbusters.  

     Unfortunately, my inability to stick to a schedule forced me to shelve the planned screening of Contamination on Saturday night in the interest of trying to get everything back on schedule.  Luckily, Cemetery Man was well received, though by the time we got through that we didn't get to screen Suspiria until after midnight.  Only three or four folks stuck it out for that one.  Just before we started Suspiria the rain stopped, the skies cleared, and the moon shone on the woods all around us.  It was glorious.  Owing to how few people saw this screening, I think it's likely that Suspria may be revisited at a future event.

     In the end that first live event was a little rocky, though I learned from my mistakes.  It was at least successful enough to warrant a sequel in October of 2012, the Movies At Dog Farm II Pre'Ween Picture Show.  I'll write a post at some point documenting that event, as well.  Until then, what follows is the text on the flyer I made up for the first event touting the movies I either screened or intended to screen.  The write-up on Pieces was later repurposed for a Gore-A-Thon post here on the site.

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Pieces (1982)  
aka Mil Gritos Tiene La Noche

Screened Friday, May 4, 2012


     Pieces is pure freak show exploitation, with an advertising campaign that sells the movie like a huckstering carnival barker.  "You Don't Have To Go To Texas For A Chainsaw Massacre!" screams the tagline, and then the movie's poster even more bluntly promises "It's Exactly What You Think It Is!"  The clear implication is that Pieces offers all the bad dialog, gratuitous nudity, and graphic violence you're looking for, all in one convenient package.

     That package mostly delivers, and it does so with a charming lack of pretense.  Director Juan Piquer Simon knew what he was making here and doesn't let a sense of decorum get in the way.  Legend has it that during filming an actress actually lost control of her bladder during one take when a functioning prop chainsaw strayed dangerously near.  That shot made it into the film's final cut, a testament to the aesthetic of tacky, unrefined showmanship that makes Pieces great.

     Director Simon once stated, "I don't know anyone who says 'I'm going to make a bad movie.'  Nor do I know anyone who says 'I'm going to make a work of art' and makes it."  Somehow, Pieces manages to be both bad movie and work of art at the same time.  The Texas Chainsaw Massacre may be the undisputed masterpiece, but Pieces earns its place in the chainsaw movie pantheon by being devoid of delusions of grandeur and simply delivering what it promises.  It truly is exactly what you think it is.

    

Contamination (1980)  
aka Alien Contamination 

Scheduled for Saturday, May 5, 2012, but ultimately not screened due to scheduling conflicts.


     Italian filmmakers made a veritable cottage industry out of riding the coattails of American made box office successes throughout the 1970s and 80s.  The Exorcist (1973) begat Beyond The Door (1974), Jaws (1975) begat Great White (1980), and Alien (1979) begat Contamination (1980).  Curiously, director Luigi Cozzi perceives Contamination as being a riff on Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, but the distinction is specious.  Contamination was released in the wake of the massive worldwide success of Alien, and it made extensive use in its advertising of its images of pulsating alien eggs.  It's a very real possibility that Cozzi is just being disingenuous.  Either way, Contamination is a hoot.

     Starring Ian McCulloch (Zombie) and featuring a pounding score by Goblin, Contamination starts strong, ends strong, and probably won't completely put you to sleep in the middle.  Even if you do begin to feel groggy, hang in there for the reveal of the cyclopean, paper mache alien overlord at the movie's conclusion.  Only the Italians can make formaggio of this caliber.  Blue Underground's restoration from the original vault negative reinstates the gory, gut-busting FX excised worldwide for Contamination's theatrical releases, making this the definitive cut of the movie. 


Cemetery Man (1994) 
aka Dellamorte Dellamore

Screened Saturday, May 5, 2012


     Cemetery Man, directed by Dario Argento protege Michele Soavi, is one of the finest horror movies of the 90s, foreign or otherwise.  It's also woefully under appreciated, perhaps because it was saddled by American distributors with a groaningly broad title that does little to indicate its blackly comic tone.  Its original title, a bit of Italian wordplay, roughly translates as "Of Death, Of Love", and that's much closer to the mark.  This is a movie with a lot on its mind.  It examines nothing less than the meaning of life itself, and it ultimately seems to decide that life has no meaning without love.  It also has plenty of zombies, gore, and nudity, so don't think it's just a dry, artsy slog through the Big Philosophical Questions.

     A then unknown Rupert Everett (My Best Friend's Wedding) does a fine job mining the script's dark humor as Fracesco Dellamorte, a cemetery watchman with the unenviable task of slaughtering the undead "returners" at Buffalora Cemetery.  It's all in a day's work for Dellamorte until a tryst with a beautiful widow turns tragic, leading him into a tailspin of escalating psychosis.  Is death the ultimate act of love?

     Cemetery Man is a truly unique gem of a horror film, lousy American title notwithstanding.  Thanks to Josh Kamikaze Buckland for suggesting it.


Suspiria (1977)

Screened Saturday, May 5, 2012


     Suspiria is Italian director Dario Argento's masterwork, a garish nightmare of over saturated colors and painterly compositions that plays like a fairy tale for adults.  Nominally about a coven of witches and the dance academy for young women they use to conceal their activities, the narrative is really only a framework upon which Argento builds his fever dream of stylish visuals and discordant sound.  Frequent collaborator Goblin provides the nerve-jangling score, easily the band's most effective, and the aural assault is every bit as important to the success of the enterprise as Argento's aggressive visual attack.  The two halves work in tandem to create a perfect storm of deeply disturbing hallucinatory horror.

     Suspiria tells the tale of Mater Suspiriorum, the Mother of Sighs, and is the first film of Argento's loosely related Three Mothers trilogy, each of which focuses on the story of one of a triumvirate of ancient, evil witches.  Inferno followed in 1980 and told of Mater Tenebrarum, the Mother of Darkness, the youngest and cruelest of the three.  The Mother Of Tears belatedly concluded the trilogy in 2007 and told of Mater Lachrymarum, the most powerful of the three witches.

     Argento failed to match the delirious heights of Suspiria with either of its follow-ups, but it would have been nearly impossible to do so.  The first was as close to perfection as genre movies get.  Everyone should see Suspiria at least twice:  once to let the malevolent magic wash over you, and once more to marvel at the flawless skill and technique with which Argento casts his cinematic spell.

Day Two Of Movies At Dog Farm III - Final Chapter Or A New Beginning?

The projector warms up for night two of Movies At Dog Farm III.  All images in this post by Herb Miller.

      So why, exactly, do I do what I do here?  To what end?  There's no shortage of movie blogs on the Internet curated by passionate and well-informed movie aficionados, so what purpose does the Dog Farm serve?  I had a moment of clarity while driving home in the wee hours of Sunday morning, prompted by an impromptu bullshit session that broke out as I was preparing to leave the Dog Farm following our viewing of The Sentinel (1977).  I should begin at the beginning, though, so let's rewind just a bit further . . .

The Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls menu on the screen at dusk. 

     For some inexplicable reason I always feel compelled to actually schedule showtimes for these events, and this one was no exception.  Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls (1970) was scheduled to begin at 8:30, just as daylight waned and the woods grew dark enough to fire up the projector.  We had watched our movies indoors on the preceding night, but I decided at the eleventh hour to move things outdoors for the second.  I was reminded of countless childhood trips to the drive-in, when the air would grow crisp at dusk and the projector would spring to life as the final light of the day gave way to nightfall.  Anticipation welled up inside me.  Then . . . the start of the show was delayed for roughly an hour as the guests milled around and chatted, waiting for Phil to finish preparing a vat of chili for everyone.  As is always the case, the schedule was blown before the first movie began.  Lesson learned.  I waited patiently while everyone drew their conversations to a close and settled in with their piping hot bowls of chili.  We were starting late, but everyone seemed ready now to direct their full attention to the screen.

Our makeshift outdoor theater before the start of the show . . .

     I harbored a lingering doubt about sharing Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls with an audience, and the initial twenty minutes or so made me sweat.  Everyone was too quiet.  I felt self conscious about laughing at bits of dialog that no-one else seemed to find amusing.  BVD is an odd bird, and I began to fear that perhaps I'd chosen the wrong movie for the crowd.  Then there were signs of life.  I began to hear politely subdued discussion around me.  I began to field whispered inquiries about what we were watching.  After a slow start, everyone finally seemed to be tuning in to the campy vibe of BVD just as the character of Z-Man Barzell exulted, "This is my happening, and it freaks me out!"  Apropos, really.  The audience became less discreet about commenting on what was unfolding before them, and by the time the movie careened into its frenzied final act BVD had managed to win over the audience completely.  My gamble had paid off.

. . . and again after the movies commenced. 

     After a brief intermission between films I started the evening's second feature, The Sentinel.  Though considerably less outrageous, high spirits engendered by BVD carried over.  The evening had grown chilly, but everyone bundled themselves up in sleeping bags and blankets and settled in.  The Sentinel played out like the champion B-list horror show it is, and the audience was engaged throughout.  The final credits rolled at around 1:30 in the morning, after which the lights came up and a line formed for the bathroom.  I took that as a victory.  The audience had been sufficiently involved with what they were watching to hang in there until the bitter end, bursting bladders be damned.

     As the crowd started to gather their things and disband, I began to disassemble the AV equipment and load my car for the ride home.  Phil Neff and Herb Miller lingered for longer than the others, and we began to talk excitedly about what had just transpired.  Herb had enjoyed The Sentinel, a movie about which he'd been previously unaware, more than he expected.  Phil shared with me some details of the crowd's enthusiasm for Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls earlier in the evening.  We started to reminisce about previous Movies At Dog Farm successes - Pieces (1982) and Suspiria (1977) in particular.  We began to spitball ideas for the next Movies At Dog Farm then and there, even hatching a plot to throw a "movies only" fundraising event later in the summer to finance acquisition of our own projector for future gatherings.  I was gratified.

     As I drove away, the theme for Suspiria played on my car's CD player, a perfect sound cue to end Movies At Dog Farm III.   I spent most of the hour long drive home chewing on ways to set up that fundraiser we had discussed, and I began to think of all the other cinematic obscurities I still wanted to share.  It occurred to me that my usual mode of movie consumption - home alone on the couch watching the movies unfold on a regular old television - is lacking.  There's simply no substitute for enjoying a movie on the big screen in the company of an appreciative audience.

     I don't really fancy myself a critic, and I tend only to write here about the movies I love.  I spend a little too much time watching these flicks, and I relish the opportunity to share the best of them with friends both old and new.  Nothing can convey the satisfaction of hearing a group of otherwise normal individuals enthusiastically sharing their best dramatic renditions of movie quotes like, "You will drink the black sperm of my vengeance!"  Presenting these odd little cinematic gems to an audience not predisposed to watch such things is why I do what I do here.  That's a simple motive, but I think it's a worthy one.  Thanks, everyone, for affording me the opportunity to do so.

(Mostly) Effective Tips For Teaching A Straight To Like Horror Movies

     My last post addressed the way in which straights (non horror fans) can have a tendency to look down their noses at horror fans, like we're Trekkies or something.  They only do this because they're ignorant.  It's our duty as fans to try to remedy this ignorance.  Following are a few tips from my own experience that I hope will help my fellow genre fans to convert the unwashed masses.


1)  The Classics Are Your Cornerstone

     The classics are considered classics for a reason.  It's no accident that every Halloween brings a wave of those "Ten Best Horror Movies To Watch On Halloween" lists from a slew of straight websites.  Sure, you'll see some variation, but these lists are mostly populated from a pool of the same titles on every single site.  We horror fans generally roll our eyes and think something like "The Exorcist?  Again?"  Still, though, you'd be surprised how many straights have never seen The Exorcist.

     The classics are a great place to let your student dip a foot into the bloody pool of horror, because your student will want to see these titles for many of the same reasons that filmmakers want to remake them.  Even if your subject has never seen these movies, he's at least aware of them.  He already has at least a vague idea of what they're about, often because he's already seen some of those aforementioned remakes.  Yes, even straights who profess not to like horror movies will occasionally go to see one - just goofin' - and chances are, what they saw was probably a remake with a familiar title.  Take the "in" and show them the original.


2)  Know Your Student

     Don't show a pregnant woman It's Alive (1974).  The amusement to be had from watching her squirm uncomfortably will be fleeting.  You've made watching a horror movie a distinctly unpleasant experience for her, and that only serves to reinforce her claim that she doesn't like horror.  She won't trust your recommendations in the future because she won't trust your motives.

Lena Leandersson - Let The Right One In (2008)

     Take time to find out what kind of movies your student does like, and choose a title that somehow ties into that.  If she likes arty foreign films, show her Let The Right One In (2008).  If she likes comedies, show her Shaun Of The Dead (2004).  If she likes being intellectually engaged by a movie, show her Pontypool (2008).  Remember that your student already has preconceived notions about the horror genre.  You're trying to make an end run around those preconceptions in the hopes of demonstrating that the horror genre is multifaceted enough to encompass movies that even she will enjoy.


3)  Make It A Learning Experience

     Some people respond well to the idea of developing an intellectual appreciation for something even when they believe that something doesn't actually appeal to them.  Sometimes that intellectual appreciation can develop into a genuine enthusiasm once they've become attuned to the particulars of the subject.  Use that to your advantage when introducing someone to the horror genre.

     I programmed two different series of genre movies for some of my students that I referred to as The Drive-In Movie Summer Series.  We watched one movie each Wednesday for twelve weeks.  Prior to starting this undertaking I even went so far as to create a program schedule with bullet-pointed facts, trivia, and production info.  Putting the movies into some kind of context for my students before watching them piqued their interest, and it served to make the whole experience something more than just "horror guy subjecting straights to B-movies".  They were only humoring me at first, but they were fully and genuinely invested in the experience by the end of the summer.

John Travolta - The Devil's Rain (1975)

     Be careful, though.  Don't get too bogged down in horror-centric details and lose sight of your goal.  For example, one of the movies we watched was The Devil's Rain (1975), and I made sure my resident John Travolta fan knew he was in it.  That's a bullet-point that mattered to her.  On the other hand, telling her it was directed by the same guy who directed The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) would have meant nothing to her.  This leads nicely into number four . . .


4)  Build On Your Successes

     If you show your student a Fulci movie and he objects to the graphic violence, shelve the Fulci movies until later.  If you show your student an Argento movie and he objects to the lack of narrative cohesion, fall back to horror movies with more linear narratives.  Don't force the issue.  There may be an opportunity to reintroduce Fulci or Argento later, but only if your student is still watching horror movies later.  Some directors, subgenres, and styles are acquired tastes.  I was only lukewarm on Argento's Suspiria (1977) the first time I saw it, and that's almost unfathomable to me now.  My tastes had to broaden and mature.  Your student will never get to that point if you insist upon beating him relentlessly about the face and neck with movies you think he should like.

     Use softer "gateway" horror like Gremlins (1984), Poltergeist (1982), or Arachnophobia (1990) first to get a feel for what your student might find tolerable, then branch out from there into thematically similar "hard" horror.  Take the time to build a foundation for your student's education.  We all had to walk before we ran.


5)  Recognize Your Student's Opinions Are Valid (Even If They're Wrong)

     You will inevitably show your student a horror movie you love that he doesn't care for.  Don't get discouraged.  Don't take it personally.  This is an opportunity, not a setback.

Angus Scrimm - Phantasm (1979)

     Ask your student to identify what they found unappealing about the movie.  Gently prod them into examining critically exactly why they didn't like it.  Resist the urge to tell them they're wrong and then proceed to explain to them why they're wrong for half an hour.  Instead, turn their criticisms back on them, and make this an opportunity for them to examine what in particular didn't appeal to them.  This will, in turn, prompt them to consider what they do like.  You've now made your student an active participant in his education, strengthened his own critical faculties, encouraged him to view a horror movie as a topic worthy of examination, and let him know it's o.k. if he doesn't like everything he sees.  You can deal with the fact that he's a nutcase for not enjoying Phantasm (1979) at a later date.


6)  Be Prepared For The Day The Student Becomes The Master

     If you've done your job well, this will happen.  You'll have another horror literate friend with whom to watch your favorites.  All of those years you spent amassing a wealth of useless knowledge about the horror genre will not have been wasted.  When you help your student develop her affinity for zombie movies and she later comes to you interested in watching The Battery (2012), you'll know you've succeeded.


     So what tactics have worked for you?  Post a comment below to share your own tips.  One final note:  I was just joshing with that Trekkie slur at the start of this post.  I like Star Trek.  Really.

Movies At Dog Farm Reflects On 2012 And Looks Forward To 2013

The Sun Sets On 2012

     If anyone had told me at this time last year that I'd be sitting down in front of a laptop on New Year's Eve 2012 composing a post for my own movie blog, I wouldn't have believed it.  I'd never even been on Facebook before the beginning of 2012.  It's funny how often we end up stumbling down paths we hadn't anticipated.

     Thanks to Phil Neff for encouraging me to program movies for the two Movies At Dog Farm Events that ultimately led me here.  I look forward to programming one for the spring.

     Thanks to all the new friends and acquaintances that I met through these events (and through the Facebook page promoting them) for encouraging me, as well.  The Movies At Dog Farm blog would not have happened had I not been trying to share what were actually blog entries on that original Movies At Dog Farm group page.

     Finally, thanks to all the other bloggers I've met while getting my own blog off the ground.  I'm inclined to think better of the world in general when I see others with no vested interest in the success of this enterprise taking time out from their own projects to offer kind words, tips, and support.  Your input is greatly appreciated.

     I'd also like to take a moment to draw attention to the banner for the Horror Blogger Alliance in the Dog Farm sidebar.  They've been kind enough to admit me into their ranks.  There's loads of great content there, so be sure to check it out.

     Going forward . . . you can expect to see my thoughts on Texas Chainsaw 3D sometime next weekend.  I'm also hoping to add the occasional guest post just to keep things interesting.  Horror is my wheelhouse, but I'd like to see Movies At Dog Farm maintain a slightly broader scope.  I'll also continue to tweak existing content in the new year - Movies At Dog Farm Remembers, Noteworthy On Netflix - so if you see something you like (or don't like) please keep me posted.

     On a related note, The Dog Farm Kennel chatroom at the bottom of the page is almost always open if I'm online.  Just bark, and I should hear the notification.  The one thing I miss here in the blogosphere is the social interaction of the Facebook group page.

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     Movies At Dog Farm resolves the following for 2013:


. . . to watch at least one "regular movie" for every three "Dog Farm movies" I watch.

. . . to smile more.  My look of perpetual consternation is etching itself permanently into my face.

Photo Credit:  Dave Engledow on 1x.com and on Facebook

. . . to learn how to change a diaper with the skill and quiet dignity of an English nanny.

. . . to reserve judgement on the forthcoming remakes of Evil Dead and Suspiria until presented with the irrefutable empirical evidence that the remakes are, in fact, inferior to the originals.

. . . to create a podcast.

. . . to get through the next Movies At Dog Farm Event without pain killers or antibiotics.

. . . to do my damnedest not to age this year.  This shit has got to stop.
 
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     Keep coming to visit, and I'll do my best to make Movies At Dog Farm a place worth visiting!


                                                Have a safe and happy New Year!