Local Cast and Crew

A few months ago, I wrote about a special type of show that treats movie geeks around Austin to a very special brand of comedy. Local audiences have witnessed The Old Murder House Theatre perform renditions of Die Hard, Home Alone, even a brilliant Aliens on Ice production. The theater company has a new show coming up, and it's part of their first national tour, which was successfully funded on Kickstarter. For their new show, for their biggest show -- Jurassic Live: Dino Action Show -- they've decided to take on one of the biggest movies in recent history, Jurassic Park.

The Old Murder House Theatre company is headed by local actor Sam Eidson, whom you might have seen in Austin movies such as My Sucky Teen Romance and Austin High. You might recognize some of the other cast and crew involved too from other local films. I had the opportunity to interview Eidson about some of the origins of this show, elaborate on their upcoming tour of Jurassic Live, and where they might go from here once the tour is done.

Slackerwood: How did the idea of doing a show like this come about?

Sam Eidson: It happened in Savannah, Georgia in 2008 when me and Josh Jones, Mike Bailey and Linda McNeil put together a Jurassic Park show for our friends. Our friends liked it so we did more. Me and Josh moved to Austin and kept doing it and Jurassic Park here will be our fifth show.

Varsity Blues is truly of its time. When the film was released in 1999, star James Van Der Beek was riding high on his fame from popular teen soap Dawson's Creek. This was the first movie produced by MTV Films, and the soundtrack includes such late '90s hits as Collective Soul's "Run" and the Foo Fighters' "My Hero." Buzz Bissinger's influential book Friday Night Lights: A Town, A Team, and a Dream had been published nine years previous, but had yet to be dramatized for either the big or small screen.

Filmed in Austin -- as well as Georgetown, Elgin and Taylor -- Varsity Blues follows Mox (Van Der Beek), a high school senior in fictional small-town West Canaan, Texas. He dates his friend's younger sister, Julie (Amy Smart), who works at the Top Notch. He dreams of going to Brown University, and only plays football because his dad makes him. During games, Mox sits on the sidelines reading Vonnegut behind his playbook. Then Julie's brother, game-winning quarterback Lance (Paul Walker), is seriously injured and the evil Coach Kilmer (Jon Voight) calls Mox off the bench.

A Sunday afternoon on the set of The Bounceback reconnected me to all that is enchanting about filmmaking -- the passion, the camaraderie, the dedication. Thanks to talented writer and director -- and former Austin Film Society Director of Artistic Services -- Bryan Poyser, a strong dose of irreverence pervaded the day as a bonus.

Some 50 actors and crew had already put in a good five hours when I showed up at Alamo Drafthouse Ritz on Sunday for my VIP set visit, but spirits were nonetheless high. I parked at base camp where the catering, craft services and honeywagon made it look like any major motion picture and belied the indie nature of this enterprise.

After hugs with Bryan (second from left in above photo), who seemed as proud and tired as a new father, the affable Assistant Director C.J. Neels ushered me to my perch. From the back of the theater, I watched the lewd antics in comfort and anonymity. I stayed for three scenes, which moved at an astonishingly efficient clip considering how much coordination was needed between actors, dozens of background players, and music as well as the usual crew.

Steven Soderbergh has been a prolific filmmaker, cranking out a movie every year or two (and sometimes twice a year) since Sex, Lies, and Videotape propelled him to fame in 1989. Always willing to venture into new genres, Soderbergh tried his hand at film noir with his fourth feature, The Underneath.

Released in 1995 and shot in Austin, The Underneath (also known as Underneath) is a remake of Criss Cross, a 1949 thriller based on Don Tracy's 1934 novel of the same title. The story is classic (some would say clichéd) noir, a grim tale of how addiction, lust, jealousy and greed can inspire evil acts, compelling desperate people to take desperate measures.

The film centers on gambling addict Michael Chambers (Peter Gallagher), who returns home to Austin for his mother's wedding. Michael had left town abruptly years earlier to escape his gambling debts, leaving his wife, Rachel (Alison Elliott), to deal with the mess her husband created. Vowing that he's changed his ways, Michael tries to patch up his relationships with his mother and brother, moves in with Mom and takes a job working with his new father-in-law, Ed Dutton (Paul Dooley), as an armored car driver.

Two of the cutest little girls I've ever seen on film are Lily and Violet Collins, the daughters of filmmaker (and former Austinite) Steve Collins, who included them in his 2011 feature You Hurt My Feelings. They are unscripted and adorable onscreen. Now you can watch them too, because Oscilloscope Films has just made You Hurt My Feelings available to rent or buy as streaming video on iTunes and Amazon. Read Elizabeth's review from the movie's Austin Film Festival screening last year.

The above photo is from a recent weeklong run of the movie at reRun Theater in Brooklyn (I've been there! It's a very cool place to watch movies). That's Steve Collins next to his daughters, and actors John Merriman and Courtney Davis on the right. Merriman told me this photo is the girls introducing the film and telling the audience to stay around for the Q&A afterward.

My description makes it sound like You Hurt My Feelings is about two little girls, but in fact the focus is on their nanny, John, played by Austin actor Merriman. The film has very little scripted dialogue -- the kids know Merriman well and their scenes with him are generally spontaneous -- and is about the relationship John has with Courtney, played by Davis. (My guess is that the characters are named after the actors to make it easier for the girls.) Courtney leaves John for Macon (Macon Blair), and John's emotional upset is written all over his face, even as he plays with the children.

By Zach Endres

Why did we name the planets after Roman gods?

There's probably a simple explanation, but I have my own theory. Like the Roman gods, the planets are larger-than-life empyrean bodies, and like the Roman gods these planets have an intimate relation with the tiny Earthlings who observe them. We at least subconsciously saw in these celestial bodies the tenants of ancient gods, who held a power too vast to be contained on Earth, yet were somehow able to fiddle with our lives on a day-to-day basis. The planet Jupiter doesn't actually come down from its cosmic Mount Olympus to lay with its lovers, but it does flex its influence in more ways than you'd expect.

For example, when I was a child I purchased a book at one of those book fairs that were set up in our elementary-school library. We always looked forward to these rare occasions for the sole reason that we were let out of class early to explore. The book I found was hefty, its cover bordered by a bland beige, but within that border was a picture that depicted a series of orbs, overlapping slightly and placed in a ring-like manner around a massive ball of fire. Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and yes, Pluto, all huddled around Mother Sun in a factually inaccurate but artistically forgivable composition.

After finding this book, I spent many nights gazing at the pictures inside, fantasizing about the wide, star-ridden blackness that hung over my head and all that it contained: the red eye of Jupiter, the receding icy hairline of Mars, the rings of Saturn, the tilt of Uranus ... Although I knew I'd never visit them, I found a means to relate to them via that book as I sprawled in bed with a flashlight. They seemed so far away, but that book brought them closer to me, and they truly became my neighbors. Distant gods found their way into my life, and they weren't so distant anymore.

Just as I found a personal tie to the planets, a handful of experimental filmmakers took those seemingly far-off spheres and connected with them in their own ways. A collection of 12 experimental short films commissioned by Cinemad and Rooftop Films screened under the banner of "Orbit!" at the Fusebox Festival on April 30. If you missed the shorts, many are available to watch online.

Few genres have been as seminal a part of American and world cinema as the Western. Before the talkies, good guys in white punched and shot bad guys in black. While the genre has faded in recent years, several Western gems have stepped to the forefront. In 1993, Tombstone was such a gem.

Texas Frightmare Weekend held a reunion for the movie with Austin actress Dana Wheeler-Nicholson as well as Michael Biehn, Joanna Pacula, Michael Rooker and Buck Taylor. The men in the cast chatted about working with gunfight experts and living with their weapons for weeks to get the feel for it. The women were proud of their authentic costumes, with this drive for authenticity made more important to them when they learned of the competing film Wyatt Earp being shot at the same time. Tombstone was the underdog going up against the Kevin Costner Western.

It didn't take long for the fun anecdotes about playing with guns and fitting for cool costumes to give way to the same tension that plagued the Tombstone set. Beginning with what was, by all accounts, a brilliant script by Kevin Jarre, the production immediately dealt with the stress of dealing with a writer/director who didn't understand the delicacies of working with actors. Jarre felt that the actors were just there to say lines and bounce light. As the morale dropped Disney realized that Jarre wasn't getting coverage of the film, preferring to shoot the whole thing in wide shots. The studio learned of the frustration that the actors were facing from day one.

I originally saw Hope Floats in the theatre the weekend after I had my wisdom teeth removed. I loved the film, and even bought myself the soundtrack on cassette tape. As the pain medication I was taking wore off, I wondered if the movie was quite as lovable a film to watch when completely lucid. So, over ten years later, I re-watched the movie (to write up for this site).

Sandra Bullock stars as housewife Birdee, whose heart is broken on national television when her best pal confesses the long-term affair she's been having with Birdee's hubby. So Birdee and her forlorn child Bernice (Mae Whitman) pack up their Ford Taurus station wagon and head to her Texas hometown, where Birdee's mom Ramona (Gena Rowlands) still lives. The three females learn about each other, and Ramona practically forces her newly-separated daughter into a new relationship.

My Sunday at Dallas International Film Festival started almost identically to Saturday: Get up, have a reasonably healthy breakfast downstairs in the hotel, write and edit until time for the first movie. And like I did on Saturday, I headed to the Angelika for my first film, although I had to dress for surprisingly cool and rainy weather.

I wasn't entirely sure what I was seeing, though. The Dallas IFF schedule had a "TBA" listed at noon, and I couldn't find any info on what the movie was. So I thought I might check it out, and if it wasn't to my liking, I could go to the Brooklyn Castle screening, 15 minutes later. It turned out the TBA film had been canceled, a volunteer kindly let me know at the theater. (Note to DIFF: That would be excellent info to post to your otherwise informative Twitter account, in the future.) But as I said, it was no problem at all to jump in the line for Brooklyn Castle -- the longest line I'd stood in so far.

Brooklyn Castle was also the only entirely full house I experienced at Dallas IFF -- and at noon on a Sunday, mind you. Most of the other screenings I attended were fairly full, but for this one, volunteers were helping people find any empty seats and groups were splitting up to sit anywhere they could. There were a lot of kids, too ... and it was an extremely well behaved audience, possibly due to the engaging nature of the film. Two little girls in front of me were sharing a seat.

Brooklyn Castle (dir. Katie Dellamaggiore)

I was really glad to catch this documentary after missing it at SXSW, where it won an audience award. Brooklyn Castle is about Brooklyn 318, a junior high public school that consistently turns out the best chess players and teams in the country. The school and its students are very proud of this, and the chess players don't fit the usual chess-nerd stereotype at all. The school has a strong afterschool program where students can brush up their chess skills and prepare for tournament play.

I imagine that no one involved in the making of Roadie considers the film a career highlight. And a few of the cast and crew probably wish the film never happened. Yes, folks -- Roadie is that bad.

Sorry to be so harsh in my assessment of the film, but…actually, no, I’m not sorry, for this 1980 rock’n’roll "comedy" is an execrable mess.  Even the ubiquitous presence of Meat Loaf -- who has done respectable and entertaining work in many other films and TV shows -- can’t save Roadie, a film so profoundly dumb and unabashedly horrid that a more suitable title might be Roadkill.

That said, for better or worse Roadie is a significant part of Texas film history. While it’s isn’t worthy of praise, it is a Texas cultural artifact worthy of inclusion in Slackerwood’s Lone Star Cinema series.

Roadie is the story -- and I use the term story loosely -- of Travis W. Redfish (Meat Loaf, in all his hairy and rotund early career glory), a Shiner beer truck driver who happens upon a broken-down RV delivering Hank Williams Jr.’s sound equipment to Austin. Redfish fixes the RV and drives it to Austin in the nick of time. To return the favor, band manager Ace (Joe Spano, later of Hill Street Blues fame) and concert promoter Mohammed Johnson (Don Cornelius, who wisely kept his Soul Train day job) offer Redfish a job as a roadie for Johnson's travelling rock'n'roll show.