Misadventures in Wonderland: All Night Horror Madness
Our columnist Alice, a self-confessed movie hater, attends a ten-hour film marathon
For God’s sake. There are two things I don’t do. One is eat cereal (because pouring milk on things that are crispy is disgusting) and the other is watch films. I’ve never got it. Owning a short attention span but never a DVD player hasn’t helped.
Although the fact that I’ve only ever watched about 20 films has now become a talking point, I’d like to point out that I have seen Showgirls six times and The Human Centipede twice. I cry just thinking about Forrest Gump, so in a way I felt I’d completed movies and didn’t need to watch any more. I also don’t like feeling scared.
On arriving at All Night Horror Madness at 11pm, I realised that it was more of a hoo-ha than I had anticipated. People had brought their own dinner to munch on while old-school trailers on the big screen whetted the crowd’s appetites. The ladies toilet queue was shorter than the worst-hotdog-in-the-world line, which reminded me of a time when the only use I had for the Cameo was when I lived round the corner with my first ever boyfriend and was too scared to shit in the flat when he was in.
Was I supposed to be reviewing these films? The first was about a man in a suede suit killing redhead prostitutes. The second was about a disease that turned Australians into bloodthirsty monkeys. (I’m guessing a bit with the next three because I lost my mind somewhere along the way.) There was one about a hospital where a puffy-nippled woman ran around screaming about her test results. Another was set in a hotel where everyone had an unlimited supply of acid dropped on them and I think the last one was about a wrestler who lived in a slum and where people were being brainwashed via TV. I don’t know because I was covered in Doritos and asleep under my coat by this point.
When it was done, everyone was looking rough, but that’s what an all-nighter of drinking warm beer, eating junk food and Citylink-level sleep will do to a person. Walking out into the cold light of day, the camaraderie and friendship we’d built during our shared night-long experience slowly dissolved and we turned back into strangers, staggering off into the sunrise and resembling most of the characters we’d just spent the last ten hours watching.
To find out about the next All Night Horror Madness see facebook.com/allnight.horrormadness