Difficulty Rating: Art is unjudgeable by mortal eyes
I’ve already blogged about Siberia for its contribution to the free burlesque landscape, but on day twenty two we stopped by there for dinner and discovered they offer another free activity worth mentioning***. Hidden behind the pool table is a little cabinet with three rules written on the front: 1) Take an Art 2) Leave an Art 3) Don’t be an asshole. Inside the cabinet were stacks of fine paintings, doodles, sketches and interpretive splashes, as well as some blank canvasses, pencils, chalks and inks. The idea being you create an artwork while you’re there – or even bring one from home – and swap it for one in the cabinet. Of course, I leapt at this and drew a portrait to American Husband’s commission; a creepy lady trying to kiss you through the canvass. She was later dubbed Aunty Fay. No relation to my actual Aunty Faye. She’s neither blonde nor a lush. I swapped Aunty Fay for a really awesome painting of what I think is a sad Native American woman. Art!
Aunty Fay wants to play
But that was just a precursor to the real meat and free bones. I’d tracked down a place called the Burgundy Picture House and invited a stack of friends to the movie there. It claimed to be a free outdoor cinema, we were picturing a drive in, but when we showed up it looked like a regular house and we all started wondering if we were gonna get murdered and mugged if we went in. We sent the burly men in first and discovered a beautiful backyard with chairs and fairy lights and rugs set out around a huge projector screen. It was so homemade and so friendly, like being at your mate’s place and they just happen to own a gigantic screen and speakers. The owner of the house was selling beers for $1 and her friend was selling beautiful, addictive homemade apple and grape pies. We were so busy relaxing and chatting that it was almost a shock when the movie started.
All murder houses have lovely kitch signs.
Now, I’m no Margaret Pomeranz but they may have played one of the greatest movies of all time. The Driller Killer is a terrible vanity piece directed by the lead actor which tells the story of a troubled artist driven to a killing spree by people not liking his art. Everything about this film is graceless, over-dramatic and only barely coherent, but it manages to innocently hit all the finest hallmarks of horror. There’s the fountains of blood, the pre-death monologues from satellite characters, ridiculously implausible murders and of course the indispensable blonde lesbians making out in the shower. Those girls are never seen again in the film. The acting is appalling and only made worse by the insane editing. I really think this film wanted to be Taxi Driver mixed with a drill but it ended up being Christine mixed with The Room mixed with a drill mixed with a drug addict’s fever dream. I nearly choked with frenzied laughter for 96 minutes.
Yes, the movie starred a 1970’s angry, New York Stephen Mangan. The cake has been iced!!
The Burgundy Picture House specializes in Arthouse, Indy and I suppose exceptionally terrible films and I couldn’t have had a better time if they’d played Piranha 3DD. Sitting under the stars and the ripe moon, with good pals, watching the cinematic equivalent of a dog injuring itself trying to leap onto a table. Oh! And someone brought a dog!
(*** It’s also worth mentioning that the food at Siberia is fabulous, but not free. They do “Slavic Soul Food”, so you can get your crawfish blini and Cajun borscht. Exquisite!)
Here’s a picture of American Husband enjoying himself tremendously.
This was the best photo we took in that dark yard.
