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Heavy Metal Parking
Lot
15th Anniversary Tour
review by Elias Savada, 15 June 2001
I've
known D.C.-area filmmaker Jeff Krulik for what seems like decades.
We both share an affectionate obsession for horror director Tod
Browning (a publicity still from Freaks
is featured on Jeff's website, www.planetkrulik.com)
and Johnny Eck, the Baltimore native "half-boy," whose
body ended just below his ribcage. And we were both bar mitzvah-ed,
which has nothing to do with today's feature. Just file it away for
later disuse.
Big
screen success has always been just around the corner for Jeff and
fellow guerrilla filmmaker John Heyn (by day, a producer of training
videos for the Department of Veterans Affairs). Their no-budget
underground film and video antics have been below Hollywood's radar
screens for years, but with the above ground resurrection of their
epic 16-minute seminal documentary Heavy Metal Parking Lot, encased in a multi-title, hour-and-a-half
package (graced with some dynamite 2001
animation titles by Brad Dismukes), perhaps fortune and fame
will follow. Actually they are both getting a well deserved fifteen
minutes in the July issue of GQ,
so perhaps some studio exec has an eye on the middle-aged pair by
now, depending on where's he's sitting on the throne.
For
the uninitiated, Heavy Metal
Parking Lot was an unrehearsed, ungizmoed adventure on the
periphery of the Capital Centre, an arena built by local sports
legend Abe Pollin as a haven for sporting events and music concerts.
As dusk settles one late May 1986 afternoon prior to a Judas Priest
concert, they tool the parking lot circling the building, their
camera shooting from the open window of a 1978 Bonneville. It tracks
past legions of drunken, drugged-out, head-banging fans, meandering
in search of kindred and alcoholic spirits, or at least a cold beer.
As an excursion into the land of candid camera, without the candid,
the filmmakers capture a wild group of whacked out fans, generally
under-educated and often bare-chested (the men, of course), with
Prince George County's cops keeping a wary eye from their saddles
nearby. One crazed dude after another, blasted on acid or related
drug of choice, put on their party faces and giddily dumb down for
the camera, much like the Jaywalking
segment on the Tonight Show.
There are portions of Go
(1999) that contain the same stereotypes in a similar setting, but
without the brave, unpolished aura that Jeff and John have captured.
Imitation
being the sincerest form of flattery, the program also includes
numerous sequels (authorized and otherwise) and absurdist spawn that
honor the public citizen anxious to speak to the camera. From their
own corral, Krulik and Heyn offer Neil
Diamond Parking Lot (1996), the official sequel with an
obviously different cast. Covering the same concrete skirting the
re-christened USAir Arena, the filmmakers take on a decided older
Diet Coke crowd, a geriatric brood of card carrying (AARP) genteel
folk, grannies, and gramps. The brash trailer trash youth, the bad
teeth, and the late '70s Camaros are replaced with sedate,
well-groomed Republican sentimentalities, bulging midriffs, and
rented limos. Yet it is just as amusing as its predecessor in
capturing the outrageously normal lifestyles of America's
not-so-rich and never-famous. John Heyn co-produced (with Seth
Morris), the short "unfinished and unreleased" Monster
Truck Parking Lot, showcasing another divergent crowd. There's
also the long-rumored outtakes Heavy
Metal Parking Lot: The Lost Footage, a collection of video clips
painstakingly recovered from John Heyn's waterlogged basement. The
most recent addition is Harry
Potter Parking Lot (2000) wherein Krulik follows the mania
surrounding the release of one of the acclaimed JK Rowling books at
a suburban book store.
The
rest of the feature is made up of several television stories about
the filmmakers and a handful of tributes inspired by HMPL
(but never as wonderful). Robbie Socks' Heavy
Metal Sidewalk is a narrow glance of aging rockers peppering the
front of the Warfield in San Francisco, as they enter for a February
28, 1998 Judas Priest show. There is less stupidity, less beer, less
drugs, less originality. From late 1998 there is Clare Carey's Girl
Power Parking Lot, which actually is filming in the streets
outside Mann's Chinese at the premiere of Spice
World, with hundreds of semi-extremist Spice Girls fans
screaming behind barricades as the bosomy quintet of their
affections arrives for a personal appearance. For all the glitter
and glamour surrounding the event, there's a sadly poignant moment
when an unfortunate soul, suffering from a dreadful case of acne and
with heavy metal braces that would set off alarms at any airport,
offers the filmmaker a glimpse at a personal scrapbook honoring the
music phenomenon. There's the grainy, sweaty homage Raver
Bathroom by Toronto indie filmmakers Doug DiPasquale and Prem
Sooriyakumar. Never being a rave fan (well, I wasn't into heavy
metal either, now that I think about it), I couldn't say I was
enthralled by this urinal verité confessional where
the dialogue is barely audible (there are a inconsistent spattering
of subtitles) and a nearly unanimous use of drugs. I'm too old to
understand why half the crowd was sucking on baby pacifiers.
Finally, there's a short music video (Flavor
of the Week) for the band American Hi-Fi is another rip-off
produced by A Band Apart, Quentin Tarantino's production company.
Perhaps Jeff and John should check with their lawyers about getting
a nice royalty check for the last item. Hey boys, exploit this for
everything you can!
Visions
Cinema/Bistro/Lounge, that haven of independent thinking in a
metropolitan area overrun with mega-multiplexes, is graciously
allowing the local lads its first commercial week-long exposure of
this compilation effort, a great treat for Washingtonians—dulled
to death on The Fast and the
Furious, Tomb Raider,
and Swordfish—following
a presentation at the Experience Music Project in Seattle last
February and a few festival dates. The original short, long a
bootleg and Nirvana favorite, premiered at DC Space back in 1986,
with occasional unreelings around town (particularly at The American
Film Institute theater at the Kennedy Center). Although the
filmmakers said the tape was withdrawn back in 1990, it has had an
amazing shelf life, with Jeff and John ultimately realizing that
their ode to heavy metal maniacs should be viewed by a wider
audience. The film's website (www.heavymetalparkinglot.net)
lists the upcoming dates (including L.A. at the end of July), so
surf over and check out the schedule.
In
a Q+A sessions following the inaugural D.C. screening, the audience
was curious what lay ahead for the now digital videomakers. Boy Band
Parking Lot was screaming from a back row seat. "We'll do
it…if someone wants to pay us," Jeff honestly replied. The
ninety-minute program gelled when the directors of the rave and
Spice Girls videos sent Jeff and John their tapes. They had no idea
how HMPL has inspired so
many, or bastardized a few. One fan paralleled the American Hi-Fi
"remake" to Gus Van Sant's unsuccessful attempt to redo
Alfred Hitchcocks's Psycho.
For
now Jeff Krulik and John Heyn are reveling in the Visions bar,
downing a few brews and chatting with the crowd. Next up? Heavy
Metal Parking Lot: The Movie. Honest. They're developing a
script with screenwriter friend Gary Winter (a sample is at the
website). There's probably going to be a reunion, too. They've
identified at least ten subjects from the 1986 film, including Zebra
Boy. One survivor is Jay Hughen, a music executive with Atomic Pop.
How
about a theme park and the obvious self-referential followup: Heavy Metal Parking Lot Parking Lot. Until then, Metal
rawks!
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