BLOOD SUCKERS FROM OUTER SPACE at “Tuesday Night Trash” at the Texas Theatre, 6/12/18

I’ve got to stop sleeping on these Tuesday Night Trash shows. And I mean literally sleeping. As I slide further into the “old bag” stage of life, your humble reporter prefers to be in bed late Tuesday nights with a book in his hands and two cats sleeping on his legs like the old woman that he never thought he’d become.

That said, I’ve been to Tuesday Night Trash before. I saw Blood Freak for the first time there. And Decoder. It introduced me to Roller Blade. And it was where I finally got to see Plan 9 From Outer Space on a big screen. And those are just a few of the favors that Tuesday Night Trash has done for me at absolutely no admission charge (it’s a FREE SHOW, folks).

For the most part though, I choose to stay in instead of hitting I-35 toward Oak Cliff come Trash night to make the usual 9:15 start time.

However, maybe it’s time to change my ways because last Tuesday’s screening of Blood Suckers From Outer Space was hilarious fun. Inspiring, even. And I want to do it again.

I’ll spend more time on the film itself in a later review (but I will say that it’s a movie that proves that The Return of the Living Dead isn’t the ONLY great punk rock-scored zombie comedy of the 80s). What I’d rather talk about here is the show itself.

It might be the closest thing in town to the old grindhouse experience, starting with the Texas Theatre’s old-school non-stadium-style seats, but it goes beyond that.

I love the Alamo Drafthouse’s strict no-talking policy, but at a trashy movie, I honestly don’t mind a quip here and there from the peanut gallery. I like a little crowd reaction. A little rowdiness. As long as there aren’t some complete asshats doing their own podcast the whole time, I’m cool (and this show did have a few such specimens, all sitting together; after about twenty minutes, the supermodel-tall lady bartender showed up with a flashlight to read them their rights and then said asshats promptly got up and left to go be annoying somewhere else).

And that’s what you get here. It strikes a nice balance.

(Also the Texas Theatre’s auditorium is big and it never fills up for Tuesday Night Trash and they don’t do “reserved seating”–thank God–so if someone in your part of the room is being a douche, you can always get up and change seats. It’s easy.)

Anyway, Blood Suckers From Outer Space got a lot of laughs, but I didn’t sense that people were laughing because it’s a “bad movie”.

I HATE the smug approach of some modern audiences to films from the past, those people who turn into giggle machines at every handmade special effect and at every detail from the time… like we’re all so perfect today and like CGI computer nerd effects are the pinnacle of filmmaking.

No, the people in this room laughed because this is a FUNNY movie. It’s a comedy, though a totally berserk one.

The crowd was WITH this movie. We were cheering it on. We wanted the filmmakers’ struggle to pay off. And I think it did. At least it did on June 12, 2018 at The Texas Theatre. Over twenty-four hours later, I’m still buzzing off the love in the room.

Glen Coburn, the writer-director was there and he gave a brief, reluctant intro. He was humble, yet dryly funny and seemed to have not yet gotten his head around the idea of about 200 people showing up to see this thing that he made thirty-four years ago. He reminded me of ME, a guy who’s not used to being out this late on a fucking Tuesday. He kinda wanted to be there and he kinda didn’t want to be there. I understood.

And I loved the movie. I am now a member of the Blood Suckers From Outer Space cult.

The print was next to pristine, too. I often go to 35mm repertory screenings around town and I’m used to seeing prints of this vintage that have turned pink, with the original colors all washed out and looking like somebody spilled Kool-Aid all over the film and I was expecting that here, but NOPE. The image on Coburn’s own print was vivid and colorful. You’d think it was 1984 and we were watching this film on opening day.

Let’s also mention that Coburn has written a book, which I bought in the lobby, Whacked!: Skewed Views of Horror Movies That Simply Refuse To Die. I’ve been dipping into it for the past twenty-fours hours and it’s got the funniest film reviews I’ve read since Joe Bob Briggs. Coburn is impolite and politically incorrect throughout, but also deeply funny in a bone-dry way. He’s honest and he’s fair and he thinks that everyone is ridiculous, a true Texan voice.

Another Texas exploitation notable, silver-bearded Bret McCormick, was there selling his own book, Texas Schlock, all about the weird stuff that’s gone down in this state’s underground. I bought that one, too.

You walk into a movie theater and you leave with books and great memories. My kinda show.

And, as of this writing, I’m all in for next month’s aquatic double-feature. Sounds like a blast.