CWRU 50th Annual Science Fiction Marathon

Pizzazz was a short-lived pop culture magazine produced by Marvel Comics from October 1977 to January 1979. Any given issue might include articles about Mattel’s Slime, Spider-Man, Shaun Cassidy, or the film Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. It was also notable for including short comics of the first new Star Wars stories to follow the original film.

I had my tenth birthday during the all-too-brief print run of Pizzazz and I was absolutely the demographic. The June 1978 issue (“First National Edition!”) featured the article “Do-It-Yourself Guide to Day-And-Night Marathon Summer Vacation TV Watching.” A tongue in cheek piece (but I didn’t know that) it was intended for that kid who saw the summer as one long, boring stretch of nothing to do.

The story included tips on what to wear (ratty bathrobe), what to eat (and where to store it within arms reach), how to orient yourself in front of the TV, even what to use to change the channels without getting up (a grocery store stick) in the era before remote controls. Fans of Ferris Bueller might be interested to know it provides instruction on how to trick your parents into believing you are ill which includes making a tape recording of yourself coughing.

It Came From Outer Space

They even suggested using an egg timer to take naps during late-night commercials before the stations went off the air (they used to do that) and you could catch a couple hours sleep before sign-on.

After completing a week's worth of non-stop television viewing, the article concluded, “You’ve done it! You’re 10 times more bored than you were when you started. You swear you’ll never watch another minute of TV for the rest of your life. But just think how good the rest of the summer looks now!” Which is pretty much how I felt by the conclusion of the CWRU Film Society 50th Annual Science Fiction Marathon last weekend.

Since 1976, at this time of year, Strosacker Auditorium on the Case campus would be packed with nerds to watch non-stop flicks from Friday evening to some time after midnight on Sunday morning. I’ve been several times, usually to catch a few movies in a row depending on what was being offered. This year the rundown was so epic, I decided for the first time to do the entire thing.

Mars Attacks!

While I did not pack a ratty bathrobe, I did bring a change of pajama pants, slip-on shoes (not slippers) a pillow, and also a blanket that I never chose to use. I have been watching what I eat recently, due to an elevation in my bad cholesterol. For the marathon I brought no food of my own, only cash with a resolve only to consume what was made available. Before the show even began, that included a slice of Dewey’s pizza, a bag of popcorn and a Pepsi. It was luxurious.

We watched Ready Player One (2018) and It Came From Outer Space (1953) and for a midnight snack enjoyed a vanilla muffin with chocolate chunks. Every year there are two or three “surprise” attractions, and at 1:15 AM that was Mars Attacks (1996). I changed into my soft pants, settled in and promptly fell asleep.

One Million B.C.

I was a bit self-conscious about wearing pajama bottoms, I know the kids do but I’m not a kid. But then I saw grown men walking into the bathroom in their socks, so I stopped worrying about it.

In 1998, to promote the Dobams’s Night Kitchen long-form, sci-fi improv One Step Beyond, members of the company appeared at Strosacker during the marathon to play trivia and give away tickets. Thing is, we appeared twice: late Friday night, and again on Saturday morning. The thing we didn’t think of is that there’s really only one audience for the marathon. The second time I took the stage I was heckled; “Hey! I know why I’m in the same clothes I was wearing last night, why are you?”

I also slept through most of Disney’s The Black Hole (1979) and no one could blame me. By that time I had figured out how to curl into my lecture hall seat in the right way so that I could be comfortable. It was cute.

This Island Earth

One Million B.C. (the 1940 one, not the other one) started a little before five a.m. and that kept my attention, if only because of all of the animals that were harmed or mutilated for its creation.

The first time I brought my son to the marathon was in 2017, when we saw Arrival (2016) and Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (2005). The boy was eleven, he said Arrival was the best movie of that year. He’s never said anything about Hitchhiker’s Guide.

Thankfully, I had brought a toothbrush to the marathon, freshened up and got a cup of coffee. And they had apples! We saw This Island Earth (1955) and breakfast was a whole everything bagel from the Cleveland Bagel Co. with cream cheese and they also had Malley’s stuff here so I had two milk chocolate covered pretzels. It was heaven.

Wall-E

January 2020, four of us came to the marathon specifically to see Twelve Monkeys (1995) and before that, the short French film it was based on, La Jetée (1962). By then, we already knew about COVID-19, it just wasn’t here yet. It was a disturbing evening.

Next up was Terminator 2: Judgement Day, which I hadn’t seen in over thirty years. Forgot how young Ed Furlong is in T2. After, we enjoyed a program of the opening credits to a dozen or so Saturday morning cartoons from the 60s through the aughts.

One year — I think it was 1999 – they showed Until the End of the World (1991) and that was a doozy. A somewhat futuristic noir from Wim Wenders, the obtuse, three-hour plotline was complicated by the fact that the film canisters had gotten out of order, the audience was in revolt. Lone voices in the dark would occasionally cry, “WHERE’S THE SCIENCE FICTION???” and “AUUGGHH!!!”

The Lost World

The Wall-E (2008) screening at 11:30 AM included a trailer for Hello, Dolly! (1969) and shawarma from Aladdin’s. Then we watched The Day the Earth Stood Still (1955) which is possibly the greatest science fiction film of all time. I know this because I have seen it several times, usually at the marathon because they play it so often.

During a tense but quiet moment near the end I loudly observed, “... he came back to life – and his name is CARPENTER!” My riff was met by a cascade of groans and catcalls.

Did you know ..? The Lost World (adapted into a silent film in 1925) is the only short story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle not to feature Sherlock Holmes? The midafternoon screening included a live accompaniment by Jeff Rapsis.

Godzilla

For dinner they brought in burgers, and I was surprised to see a large crowd of new audience members file in and fill empty seats for the 6:00 PM screening of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Rumor has it it was assigned for someone’s class, but who wouldn’t take the opportunity to see Kubrick’s epic? I hadn’t even seen it until last year when it was streaming, and I was excited to see it on a big screen.

There was a bit of acrimony as some joining us had little patience for the riffing coming from those who had been there for almost twenty-four hours. Meanwhile, one of the men’s toilets was down. By intermission the burgers were gone.

Our first CWRU Science Fiction Marathon was probably 1996. I can’t recall going before that time. The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension (1984) which was on this year’s bill played that year, too. The riffing when Ellen Barkin appeared got seriously rapey and my partner loudly told them to knock that stuff off, and they did.

2001: A Space Odyssey

Trailers and shorts before the feature are always references – or clues – to the feature about to play. For Secret Film #2 they included trailers for Gorillas in the Mist (1988) and The Whales of August (1987) and the Looney Tunes short Rabbit Fire (1951). The movie? The original Godzilla! (1954) I was asleep by the time he crushed Tokyo. With two flicks left I put my pants back on.

By midnight, I was ready to cash it in and head home, but then I decided what’s the point of having done this if I wasn’t going to see it through? We finish marathons. Besides, I still had that pillow. I dozed through a lot of Deadpool & Wolverine and by 3:30 AM we all staggered out into the frigid morning.

“You’ve done it! You’re 10 times more bored than you were when you started. You swear you’ll never watch another movie for the rest of your life. But just think how good the rest of the winter looks now!”

Monday night my wife and I went to the Cedar Lee.

Visit the blog of silent film composer and accompanist Jeff Rapsis for his own take on this year's marathon.

Monster Bash!

When I left home for school, I got rid of much of my childhood business. What I didn’t get rid of, my mother did. This is a parent’s responsibility.

During the 1990s and on into the 2000s, however, first retro-nostalgia toy and gift stores and then eBay popped up to provide Baby Boomers and Gen Xers the opportunity to pine for and purchase long-last treasures from their forgotten and discarded youth.

I bought a copy of all the Schoolhouse Rock videos on DVD, that was before I had children. But once I did have children, hey! Retro and educational. Those are still pretty awesome, nothing hideously dated about those.

At some point in the past fifteen years I fulfilled a desire for a few of the magazines I had enjoyed in my youth, with titles like Dynamite and Pizzazz. The one Dynamite issue I just had to have I found online, the June 1975 issue, which included instructions for a Monster Bash, the ideal monster themed party.

Christopher Lee Black Light
Poster Included!

I thought it was important to have this artifact in the house and left it around for the kids to discover and look at, but that’s not really a thing the kids ever do.

My brother, whom I tried to emulate in so many ways, was inspired by this issue of Dynamite to throw a Monster Bash! including the suggested party games "Pin the Fangs on the Vampire" and recipes for creepy snacks and desserts like "Poisonous Purple Punch" and "Transylvania Treat".

There was also a face painting element, which traumatized me. No one offered to paint my face with scars or fangs or bolts because I was the annoying little brother. One guest arrived late, an exchange student, and he offered to paint my face, but he didn’t understand that this was a monster-themed party. He made me up like a clown, much to the amusement of my brother’s pre-teen friends. I was humiliated. 

Right to left: Rich, Jim, George,
a tribble and a monster.
(October 1978)

A few years later, when I was ten, I threw my own Monster Bash, which was really just an excuse to decorate the family room, have the guys over and eat ice cream. We didn’t play any of the games and we certainly didn’t do any face painting.

I’m not even sure what it all meant. Halloween debuted that year, the original John Carpenter film, and so followed an avalanche of slasher films which I did not watch. I mean, I saw one or two, and they were horrifying and not in a fun way. I’d rather sit up with my brother to watch Hoolihan and Big Chuck, but even that was just to hang out with him. It wasn’t really my bag, except for the comedy sketches.

"Creepy Feely Feelings"
(October 2009)

We did have a few neighborhood Halloween parties, when the kids were small. They bobbed for apples, our creepy snacks were pretty freaking creepy. Once I even dressed up like a mad scientist and we played "Creepy Feely Feelings" where the kids have to touch things in covered bowls like peeled grapes which they are told are eyeballs or dried apricots which they are told are severed ears.

During the pandemic I have been stepping up my outdoor decoration game. I’d usually only have time to get things out the day of trick or treat, but starting in 2020 I started putting things out, a few at a time, starting at the beginning of the month. I wonder what I will wear to hand out candy this year.

Maybe I will dress like a clown.

See also: On Fear