Fangoria Friday

Kane Hodder=Rock Star





The taller man is Jason VII-X's slightly larger brother, who seems equally awesome. Framed between is my lovely friend Erica, who wow'd the Bros. Voohrees with her eyes. I'm the squished little head on the right being lovingly squeezed by an arm that has once crunched through many a promiscuous teen.


Other events of note: buying too many movies (including, finally, the 2-disc Battle Royale (although the salesman didn't know if there was a question mark following the death of a certain female character, so I'm hoping I got the non-terribly subtitled version), a few movie posters (The Ewok Adventure II: The Battle For Endor--in Italian!!!), and some random gifts for those parts of the family that might appreciate them. I don't know if Fango is bigger in other locations, but the NYC Javitz Center was so large that it felt a tad empty. In a way, this made mingling a little easier, although I do feel for Guillermo Del Toro speaking to a quarter-filled room way too early on a Friday night. A few Last House on the Left cast members gave an enjoyable panel and Tom Savini did his usual moody Saviniscious convention kick (which involved playfully messing a little with Hodder's table then scooting away when a fan had to reload his camera).


I chatted a little with the lovely Robin Sherwood of Tourist Trap, the vocal George Kosana and John Russo, who both had their Night of the Living Dead trivia to impart (Kosana was quite insistent about taking credit for improvising Night's most famous line, "They're dead, they're all messed up"), and filmmaker David Gregory, whose new film Plague Town, will be reviewed here shortly.


The biggest tragedy of the weekend? I won't get to see Jack Ketchum's panel on Offspring due to other commitments. Should my cable guy come early on Sunday and not drag me to a drumstick feast at Medieval Times, I may flirt with the idea of a Sunday visit, but that's looking less and less likely (the Fangoria part; I'm still holding out for a Jim Carrey-esque adventure with Cablevision's installation crew). I do urge anyone in the area to check it out. Tickets are $20, and the floor was loose enough that you could wander and chat with a few notable names without feeling compelled to fork out another $20 for an autograph.


And if you do find your way to the way too clean basement on the West Side of Manhattan, tell Mr. & Mr. Hodder that the ladies with firm handshakes say hey. But do it in a sexy voice.