Lessons of Holly

Melissa_and_HollyI don’t remember when I first met Holly. She just always seemed to be part and parcel of the Butt-Numb-a-Thon experience. Every year, when I’d go down to Austin, TX, chances were pretty good that Holly was also there, having traveled from Atlanta. Holly was always a burst of energy. She’d instantly befriend the new folks. She’d remember you even if she’d only met you briefly years ago. She’d wrap you up in a hug when you arrived, and she’d hug the hell out of you when you left.

I’d run into Holly several times per year. I’d run into her at Dragon*Con and at Fantastic Fest. She’d always have a story to tell. She’d introduce me to random people she’d just met. She’d always have a different hair color.


I remember one Fantastic Fest where I had just seen a film named Love, which was set on the International Space Station. The screening was followed by a Q&A with the filmmakers, led by none other than video game designer/astronaut Richard Garriott. I sat through most of the Q&A baffled by the fact that I was in the same room with Lord British from Ultima, and that Lord British had lived in space.

After the Q&A, the audience got up and started to leave the room. I saw Holly near the front of the theater, so I walked up to say hi. She was chatting with some other folks, but when I arrived she said, “Oh, I want you to meet someone!”

I was then led by the hand to up to Richard Garriott, who’d she’d just met and of course immediately befriended.

“Richard! This is my friend, Melissa! She’s an amazing person, and you two should know each other.”

Dumbfounded, I shook the hand of Lord British. The part of my brain that still functioned had an internal dialogue that went something like Holly what the fuck why are you talking me up as awesome to somebody who has LIVED IN OUTER SPACE?

But Richard was totally cool. By the time five minutes had passed, I had learned a lot about how people poop in space, all because Holly talked me up to Lord British.


Holly loved people. She was a main driving force of the BNAT Facebook group. She would welcome the new folks. She kept the fires of discussion stoked during the year. She was one of the reasons that the BNAT family of attendees really is like a family. She was like that one fun, wild aunt who would always keep the conversation going at Thanksgiving.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say anything mean about another human being.


#ff2013 has marked me for life.Last year, at the closing party of Fantastic Fest, I was one of the lucky folks on the short list to get a free tattoo. It was a long wait, but Holly would drop by every now and then to make sure I wasn’t dying of boredom. I think she even brought me a beer at one point.

When I was called up by the tattoo artist, Holly was there like a shot. See, I’d chosen the top of my foot as an excellent place for this tattoo. I’ve gotten tattoos before, so I knew what to expect, but I knew that running a tattoo gun over the tiny bones of the foot would hurt like the dickens. I was prepared to grit my teeth on my own, but Holly would hear none of that. She was determined to keep me distracted while I got jabbed thousands of times by an inky needle.

So, all during the procedure, Holly held my hand and told me stories about when she worked as an abortion clinic escort. They were a mix of serious and funny stories, told with the pace and speed of a machine gun. She just talked nonstop until the tattoo artist was done.

At the end of it, I knew she must have been an amazing clinic escort.


Just before BNAT last year (if I remember right), Holly announced that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

Throughout the last year, she has been a paragon of positivity and good humor. She’d make Hulk jokes about the radiation treatment. She was very open about posting photos of her various operations and treatments, and yet she always found something light to say about the damage her body was taking.

She made it to Fantastic Fest this year, which means she was deemed healthy enough to travel. I took it as a good sign, especially since whenever I saw her flit by, she looked great. She had a radiation burn across her upper chest, and her build had changed since the last time I’d seen her, but otherwise, she looked great. Even her super-short cancer recovery haircut looked great on her.

She was maybe a touch less full of energy than usual, but the difference was slight. It honestly looked like she punched cancer right in its goddamned face.

The last time I saw her at Fantastic Fest was at the final party. She was waiting to get one of the free tattoos. As she sat in line, everyone was dropping by to say how great it was to see her. A common refrain was Goodbye, see you at BNAT!

I unfortunately had to drive other folks home early, so I was unable to wait very long with her. I did get to have a nice, long goodbye, and got a hug, as always.

I was sure I was going to see her at BNAT this year, because Holly is always at BNAT.


After she got home from Fantastic Fest a couple weeks ago, she learned that the cancer had metastasized. She was riddled with the stuff.

Yesterday, I learned that Holly has been unconscious since Tuesday. Last night, I learned that she’d been taken out of the ICU and moved to hospice. This morning, I learned that she is gone. The tired goodbye at Fantastic Fest is the last I will ever see of Holly.


She was effervescent. She was an unstoppable dynamo of activity, a fun-seeking missile, a maelstrom of energy. It’s hard to believe that her own body betrayed her. That there will be no more Holly.

All of us who saw her at Fantastic Fest are kicking ourselves. We should have skipped a movie and had lunch with her instead. We should have hugged a little longer. I should have just waited with her for that tattoo. But really, how could we have known? Hurricanes can’t be stopped, so how could we expect that Holly could be stopped?

And as I pen this, I realize that I am doing this all wrong. Holly had it right. Holly was in the moment with everyone she came into contact with. You felt appreciated and welcomed at all times. Meanwhile, here I am, expressing gratitudes into a machine after the person who should be thanked and praised can no longer hear them.

Oh, Holly. I thought there was more time. I was certain there would be more movies and karaoke and free tattoos.

May we all live with your zeal.


Fantastic Fest Day #8

It took me a while to recover from Fantastic Fest, which is why my post about the final day comes to the Internet more than a week later. The final party was a lot of everything (including a booze luge, slap shots, a water balloon slingshot, real free tattoos, and a live donkey), and it was followed the next day by a 18-hour drive across the country to get back home. Then I went back to work. So, I was a little tired this week.

Anyway, I did see three additional movies prior to the onslaught…

Future Shock! The Story of 2000AD is a fairly straightforward documentary about the British comics company that brought us characters like Judge Dredd and a whole slew of British comics talent. The film does a nice job bringing context to the tone of 2000AD comic books, and brings some nice visual flair by animating some of the comic art. Also, comics fans will see a lot of familiar faces being interviewed — Neil Gaiman, Brian Bolland, etc. (No Alan Moore, but nobody gets Alan Moore.)

Alleluia is a Belgian horror film that I ultimately did not care for. The film has a strong concept: a woman is urged by a friend to try a dating site, and meets a man who turns out to be a small-time crook, who manipulates women into giving him money. This woman is taken in by his ruse, but has fallen in love with him, so she meets him again and says she will help him con other women, as long as she can stay with him. The two then begin conning other women into giving money to this guy… but the problem is that the main lady gets jealous and starts murdering their marks. So, that’s pretty interesting. The problem is, I never truly got what was driving the characters, and I eventually just didn’t give a damn about what was going on.

And, finally… Jerry and I stepped up and braved the 5-1/2 hour directors’ cut of Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac. I’d endured Antichrist just a few weeks prior, so my choice to go into that theater was driven more of an “I’ll take that dare” mentality rather than a “I want to see that movie” mentality. That said… I liked Nymphomaniac more than I thought I would. I don’t think I’d say I enjoyed it, because I don’t think Nymphomanic is really a movie you enjoy. I did find the film to be consistently interesting, though, and I’ll admit that it is the movie that I’ve thought about most since the festival ended. The movie is a bit of a mess; it’s all over the place in terms of focus and idealism, and it seems that von Trier’s brain spilled out every random thought he has about everything onto the screen. It almost plays out like a series of short films. Some work, some don’t. Most of the stuff that works is in the first half, where the film seems to have a sense of humor about itself.

The film does have two scenes that are marvelous, one in the first half and one in the second. Both involve actors that appear nowhere else in the film. The first involves Uma Thurman as a scorned wife, and the second involves Jamie Bell as a professional sadist. Both actors are magic in these scenes.

Oh, and if you’re thinking of watching Nymphomaniac just because of the hardcore sex scenes, you’re probably not going to get what you expect. Yes, the sex is explicit, but it is mostly depicted as awkward or uncomfortable in some way. This is a pretty unerotic film, even if it is all about sexuality. One of the scenes even gives Antichrist a run for its money in terms of brutality.

Honestly, the best part of Nymphomaniac was enduring it with a friend, because we wound up killing three vats of popcorn and twelve bottles of beer during our rollercoaster ride. Our stomachs hated us later, but we soldiered through, and we are proud.

Nymphomaniac didn't have a happy ending.

Nymphomaniac didn’t have a happy ending.

Jerry, post-Nymphomaniac. By the way, the Alamo Drafthouse has great popocorn.

Jerry, post-Nymphomaniac. By the way, the Alamo Drafthouse has great popocorn.

Fantastic Fest Day #7

Shrew's Nest Q&A - Esteban Roel

Esteban Roel, director of Shrew’s Nest

On the penultimate day of Fantastic Fest, I thankfully hit my second wind. I was still exhausted, but I’d gone past the zombie state into a sort of zen master peace.

It is by movies alone that I set my mind in motion.

One of my film slots yesterday was taken up by the animated shorts program, so I only got to see four features. It was still a solid day, though.

Shrew’s Nest is an incredible Whatever Happened to Baby Jane-style thriller from Spain. The plot centers around two sisters, the elder of whom has severe agoraphobia and thus cannot leave their apartment. As the film slowly reveals the damaged background of the two women, a handsome male neighbor falls down the stairs, and the eldest sister takes him in… and makes sure he cannot leave. The film is completely character driven, and it is grounded by a masterful performance by Macarena Gomez. Great stuff.

Open Windows is the new film by Nacho Vigalondo, the man who brought the world Timecrimes. Open Windows is the story of a regular-guy movie blogger who becomes wrapped up in a complicated scheme that somehow involves the actress that he blogs about. The narrative conceit of the film is that it takes place entirely on one computer screen, and the plot plays out across different windows on the screen. The film feels artificial and stilted until you relax into the style of storytelling, then it becomes a solid little thriller. And by the end, you learn that the things that were off-putting at first were actually necessary and intentional. Open Windows is, from beginning to end, ambitious and clever.

(Incidentally, I was an extra for Open Windows when it shot in Austin about two years ago. The back of my head and my camera are visible in the scene filmed at the Alamo Drafthouse. Thanks to Elijah Wood’s presence in the film, my camera now officially has a Kevin Bacon Number of 2.)

Horns is the latest film from the director of High Tension, and thankfully I can say it’s a better film than High Tension. That’s not to say that it’s great, but it’s engaging and has an interesting premise. Daniel Radcliffe stars as a young man in a small logging town who stands accused of murdering his beloved girlfriend. As he struggles to clear his name, he suddenly wakes up one morning with horns on his head. It turns out that the horns somehow persuade people to tell him the absolute truth about what’s on their mind, so he goes on a mission to find the real murderer. The film is funnier than I expected it to be, though the tone is sometimes uneven. The movie is at its best when it revels in its strange premise.

It Follows is a bizarre, simple, and well-executed horror flick. A teen girl finds that, after having sex with a boy she likes, she finds she is being stalked by an entity that walks after her at all times. She learns that the boy gave the monster to her, and now she must pass it on to someone else (via sex), or else the monster will catch her and kill her. Yes, it’s an obvious allegory for STDs. Yes, it’s a clever premise that allows teenagers to sleep with a lot of other teenagers. Yes, it’s a bit overwrought. However, the film is smarter than expected, the performances are good, and it’s well directed enough that an entity that simply walks at you becomes pretty scary. It Follows ultimately left me with a lot of nagging questions about plot holes and the logic of the creature (do condoms prevent the walking STD monster?), so it wasn’t completely satisfying, but it certainly held my attention throughout.

Now I get to head to the theater, where I will be treated (?) to the five-and-a-half hour director’s cut of Lars von Trier’s Nymph()maniac. If I don’t return, bury my ashes and salt the earth.

Fantastic Fest Day #6

Lost Soul Q&A

Middle: David Gregory, director of Lost Soul: The Doomed Journey of Richard Stanley’s Island of Dr. Moreau. Right: Richard Stanley, director of Hardware and Dust Devil.

I was so exhausted yesterday that by the time I drove to the theater, I realized I just couldn’t handle another movie. So I skipped the first film and slept in my car for two hours. When I woke up, I checked Twitter and saw the buzz on the film and realized I’d made the right choice.

The films I did see yesterday were half old and half new. Thanks to the festival’s premier of Electric Boogaloo: The Wild, Untold Story of Cannon Films, the festival had also gotten hold of some 35mm prints of some of the craziest examples of Cannon’s oeuvre. So, I happily spent the first half of my day watching those.

Cannon’s insane Death Wish 3 screened from an absolutely pristine 35mm print, which was struck a few years ago by MGM. That means I may have seen a better copy of the film than most audiences who have ever seen it. That’s a bit strange, because Death Wish 3 can only be described as “it’s not good, but it’s awesome.” It’s one of the pinnacle achievements of ludicrous 1980s violence, where Charles Bronson walks around with a hand cannon, blowing away thousands of anonymous thugs. Also, the movie seems to have something against ice cream. And there’s a bad guy with a reverse mohawk, which makes me wonder if the filmmakers had ever seen a real street thug or if they were just making shit up as they went along. Did I mention that the apartment building filled with gentle, elderly neighbors also happens to harbor two Browning M1919 machine guns? Yup.

This screening could only be followed up by Cannon’s equally insane Ninja III: The Domination, in which an aerobic’s instructor (!) is possessed (!!) by the soul of an evil ninja (!!!). The film’s script reads like a checklist of what the filmmakers thought was the cultural touchstones of 1984 American culture: legwarmers, Jazzercise, ninjas, lasers, V8 juice, and big hair (both on the lead actress’ head and on the lead actor’s back). Ninja III is exquisite in its inexplicability. Why does the lead character have a pay phone inside her apartment? Why is there a scene with a possessed arcade game? Oh, and did I mention that the V8 juice appears as a sex aid?

I then left the grand madness of the Cannon Films archive to watch something new: The Guest, the latest film from the writer and director who brought us You’re Next. The plot starts with an American soldier, who shows up on the doorstep of the family who lost their son to battle. He soon ingratiates himself into their lives, but something is… off. The film contains the lively characters, wry humor, and great tension seen in You’re Next, and adds a magnetic performance by Downton Abbey‘s Dan Stevens. Also, while the film doesn’t directly reference the 1980s, it has that same verve. It opens in limited release this week, so I recommend getting to a theater to catch it.

(After the film, I met Simon Barrett, who wrote the film. I told him how much I loved You’re Next and how much I liked how he wrote female characters. We got into a great conversation about the dearth of good female characters in genre films, and about how it’s slowly getting better. He said he wrote You’re Next after seeing a string of films at Fantastic Fest 2010 where women were all treated horribly.)

I capped the night with a New Zealand film called Housebound, and it immediately became one of my favorites of this whole festival. Great horror-comedy is hard to come by, and this one hits the sweet spot. The plot revolves around a young female hoodlum, who is confined by an ankle bracelet to her overbearing mother’s giant rural house. The mother believes the house has been haunted since before she moved in 20 years prior; the daughter doesn’t quite buy that, but can’t explain the house’s weird noises. The neighborhood parole officer happens to be into paranormal investigation… and the story goes from there. The film goes to places you don’t expect, the characters are vivid, and the script has a lot of pop to it. The film is a hoot, and I look forward to showing it to friends back home.

Fantastic Fest Day #5

Fantastic Feud

I don’t really know what day it is anymore. The concept of time is foggy. My body shuffles forward, as if pulled by an external force. My eyes scan constantly, seeking any movie screen within their view, like junkies seeking their next fix.

Three more days to go!

Anyway, I spent much of yesterday in front of things that weren’t feature films. I sat through the festival’s slate of horror shorts, and then witnessed the barely-controlled juggernaut of chaos that is a live game show named Fantastic Feud. As a result, I got five hours of sleep instead of the usual Fantastic Fest Four.

…it wasn’t enough.

Anyway, I did see some good feature-length stuff yesterday!

Force Majeure is the story of a Swedish family, who travel to the French Alps for a ski vacation. While dining at an outdoor restaurant, an avalanche skids down the mountain and hits the building. When the snow-fog clears and it is evident that no damage happened, the mother learns that the father ran for his life, abandoning her and the kids. This causes the rest of the vacation to be very uncomfortable for all involved. Force Majeure is a quiet, dryly humorous examination of masculinity and family, and definitely worth a look.

The Babadook is a striking horror movie, wrapped around the story of a single mother and her difficult seven-year-old son. The child becomes convinced that a boogeyman is lurking in their home, to the point where his constant obsession and weapons-crafting gets him thrown out of school and his mother out of her tiny social circle. Eventually, it’s just the two of them in their house together, and the seams of their existence start to unravel. Is the boy a monster, is the mother a monster, or is there a third monster-monster? The movie is excellent right up to the ending, which seems to be the correct ending for the story buried underneath an incorrect tone. It’s too bad, because the entire film is an intense fictional examination of the experience of living with mental illness, coupled with astonishing performances from the two leads.

The third and final film I saw yesterday was Free Fall, a Hungarian film that is more of a string of surreal vignettes than a straight narrative. The film starts out with an elderly woman leaping off the top of her seven-story apartment building, only to unceremoniously strike the pavement below. (Don’t worry, she’s fine. She does this every night.) The film then proceeds to tell the story happening within the apartments she passed on the way down. This includes things like a dinner party with the occasional nude person, a yoga class for what seems to be X-Men, a lot of Saran Wrap, a kid with a cow problem… well, it’s hard to explain. Whatever is going on here, it’s beautifully filmed, often funny, and never boring. The film also yielded the single most Fantastic Fest-y scene I’ve witnessed yet this year. When it happened, I could not stop giggling at the audience reaction. It was glorious.