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 Monster Mash The Music Box hosts its own kind of massacre
"I have a question I've been wanting to ask for a long time," says a
young woman in a black hoodie, leaning toward the microphone that the
man with the bowler hat and cane holds. "When can we expect the
triumvirate return of Gizmo?"
The audience erupts into applause as Joe Dante, director of
"Gremlins," smiles, crossing his legs and leaning back in his
throne-like chair. The Music Box is packed with horror-movie fans,
hunkering down with pillows and comforters in preparation for the Music
Box Massacre 2, a twenty-four-hour marathon of hair-raising flicks.
After viewing a screening of his two films, "Homecoming," part of the
Masters of Horror series, and "Piranha," Dante basks in the glory of
his fans for a few moments more before a brief intermission. The band
Lair of the Minotaur takes the stage to howl and attack its instruments,
while much of the audience filters out to the lobby to seek an autograph
from Dante, or to throng around cable-access legends like Count Gregula
and Count Midnight.
The Count and his Countess stand by the Horrorbles Horror and Sci-Fi
Memorabilia booth, where they swill Monster energy drinks, free of
charge, compliments of the Music Box. "It's good to see so many fans
out to support the genre," says the Countess, adjusting her scarlet
devil horns. The woman behind the booth at Horrorbles agrees, "This is
one of the few genres of film where people applaud after the film is
through." A fan waiting in line for Dante's John Hancock expresses his
delight over how much the festival has grown this past year, noting that
the audience is much bigger and much more diverse than that of the
Massacre's maiden voyage in 2005.
As Lair of the Minotaur shrieks its last, the crowd filters back in.
Monster cans and pizza plates crunch underfoot as the David Lynchesque
red curtain rises. A girl in black pulls a blanket around her shoulder,
and the boys with the Misfits hoodies who had been headbanging moments
before return to their seats. The starscape emblazoned on the Music
Box's ceiling illuminates and the hiss of pop-tops releasing echoes
throughout the theater as the next film starts. It's only hour ten, and
there's a lot more blood to see.
Also by Brenna Ehrlich
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