As the celluloid dust settles over Austin, and my liver relaxes to normal functionality, I bid Fantastic Fest 2012 adieu. Funny how a succession of 16-hour moviegoing days can fly by so quickly.

Here's the catch-22: solid screening schedules subtract from meet-and-greets with the hyper-creative international community, and the parties are sometimes as dope as the films they celebrate. I spent much of opening night plotting out 15 minutes to catch up with Team Tokyo, but due to massive red carpet premieres, I didn't find a free moment until night two.

“In my role, well...I'm not wearing this corset, for example. And I'm covered in blood. I think you'll love it.” — Je$$ica (star of “Z is for Zetsumetsu” in The ABC's of Death; my translation)

Besides the usual suspects, I befriended (i.e. became totally enamored with) platinum-coiffed jo-ō-sama Je$$ica, seductive starlet of Yoshihiro Nishimura's contribution to The ABC's of Death. We run in similar circles in that neon metropolis, so I'll definitely look her up when I return in November.

“I really want to split her lip. That's kinda my goal, so everyone can see the shame on her face at how pathetic she was in the ring against me.” — Sylvia Soska (co-director of American Mary, on her twin, co-director Jen, at the Fantastic Debates)

At the Fantastic Fest 2012 Awards, pint-sized powerhouse Rina Takeda nabbed “Best Actress” in the Gutbusters category for Dead Sushi. Only at Fantastic Fest can a film about carnivorous raw fish be considered a comedy. The Fantastic Debates began with discussion — like Twisted TwinsJen and Sylvia Soska, arguing pro and contra remaking films — and concluded with boxing! A shining moment at Chaos Reigns Karaoke wasHere Comes the Devil's Laura Caro channeling her inner Whitney in a room-scorching serenade of “I Will Always Love You.”

“Watching yourself die onscreen is a weird, strangely satisfying thing.” — Eli Roth (co-writer, producer, and star of Aftershock)

Latin America brought the heat. Mexico's Here Comes the Devil joined Sao Paulo-based fever-dream Two Rabbits and two Chilean films — Bring Me the Head of Machine Gun Woman (I'm convinced Fernanda Urrejola's bikini'ed badass heralds my ideal woman) and Aftershock (the seismic lurch from party flick to natural disaster terror totally worked) — as personal favorites. Though I gotta give the top spot to France and Holy Motors, infused with an irresistible cinematic je ne sais quoi. New York: this screens on October 11 at the NYFF, and I encourage cineastes to not miss it.

All told, I surmounted successfully 26 films, beating last year's record — barely. See, there's another double-F-bomb related to this festival: the “Fantastic Flu.” The combination of dry Central Texas heat and icebox theaters, surrounded by hundreds of film geeks, plus the extra-late hours and torrents of beer, equals a cinematically proportioned common cold. I left my flat in the morning only after coking up on green tea and vitamin C.

And now, I wade back to normality by returning to NYC for work. I may even catch some of NYFF while I'm in town, if I can will myself to sit in a theater.

Images: Main image and non-film-still images courtesy the author; ABC's of Death still via Monster Pictures; all other film stills via Fantastic Fest; Fantastic Debates boxing via David Hill/Fantastic Fest

New York might have its official celluloid clusterfuck and its punk-rock stepsister Film Comment Selects delivering highbrow cinema and cocktail-party fare (not to mention NYAFF and its ilk, screening beauties that only occasionally reappear stateside), but no film fest marries cultured screenings with good ol' gore and broken bones like Austin's Fantastic Fest.

My math skills are a bit...nonexistent, but check it: 70+ features play over eight days, plus countless parties, secret screenings, and booze a'flowin'. The Alamo Drafthouse — pairing grub and grog with movies since '97 — hosts this bonkers event. Hell, screening room #3 becomes the “Shiner Bock Theatre” during the festival, meaning free pint of namesake lager with each film. 

"The nerds have completely conquered the universe. This is our world!"

—Tim League (Fantastic Fest founder, Alamo Drafthouse owner)

As I write this, I've seen “just” seven films. By the time you read it, I will have conquered 16. Somewhere in there, I caught the sound test for Dragon Sound's 25th anniversary reunion concert, karaoke'd in a Hulu-themed booth with a dozen Japanese guests. Time blurs in manifold waves during Fantastic Fest. Like, I think the autumn equinox just commenced. And I believe today, as I type this, is Saturday, but don't quote me on that.

“You are what you watch (and listen to); at Fantastic Fest, we are Motörhead.”

—Marc Savlov (Austin Chronicle) 

Kicking off the fest, Tim Burton unleashed some stop-animation enchantment with the world premiere of Frankenweenie 3D. This included a special "Dog Theatre," where tux-clad pooches and their natty human "guests" took in the film. Karl Urban and Olivia Thirlby got my heart racing at the ensuing red-carpet for Dredd 3D. (NB. Back-to-back 3D screenings is an intense experience...but it helps when they contrast so nicely as poignant black-and-white Frankenweenie and ultraviolent, slo-mo stylizedDredd.)

“Fuck Christmas, Fuck Easter...Fantastic Fest is the greatest time of the year!”

—Luke Mullen (Fantastic Fest programmer, scribe for Film School Rejects)

Despite the fest's propensity for outlandish B-movie bijoux, there's a helluva lot of quality here. Last year, Michaël R. Roskam's debut Bullhead was shortlisted for the Best Foreign Language Film at the 2012 Academy Awards, after its Fantastic Fest premiere. Cannes mind-boggler Holy Motors plays this fest ahead of its NYFF premiere. And Adrián García Bogliano's scintillating Here Comes the Devil scored high-profile U.S. distribution via Magnet Releasing during right here in Austin fest. Bogliano and Fantastic Fest founder Tim League sabered a bottle of bubbly to celebrate.

More wildness awaits, including The ABC's of Death (one director and one creative kill for each letter of the alphabet!), an “extreme sushi” competition (before Dead Sushi's U.S. premiere), and this delightful gem from Chile called Bring Me the Head of Machine Gun Woman. Tune in next week for my huge-ass Fantastic Fest wrap-up!

Images: main image and Here Comes the Devil champagne sabering photo by the author; film stills via Fantastic Fest; Dredd 3D red carpet via Austin Chronicle

While I’m not so good at being aware of what’s going on in popular culture, somehow I'm still stubborn and adamant in my judgment of popular culture. This becomes horribly evident every year when it comes time for the Academy Awards and I haven’t seen any of the films nominated for anything, yet I insist on filling out the NYTimes Oscar Ballot along with my family and friends.

The only 2012 nominee I saw was Drive (here's me raving about its soundtrack a few months ago), which was only nominated in the category of sound editing. It did not win. My sister-in-law informed me that Glenn Close was in this film Albert Nobbs about a woman dressing as a man in the 1920s, and I proceeded to pick that film as my winner for every category for which it was nominated.

My brother found my ignorance amusing enough to actually record some of it. In his words, "Watching the 'scars with my sister is the most hilarious thing in the world. She is almost criminally ignorant of movies and popular culture in general." What follows is his edited transcript.

"The Descendants, that stupid movie about the beach?"

"The Artist...it’s fucking silent, it’s not gonna win. Well, at least it’s prestigious."

"The Help... Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz are married?"

On The Iron Lady: "What's that, a movie about the First Lady?"

[Insert unrelated heated exchange between the Blatchley siblings:]

Kayla: "Why does everyone love Sandra Bullock? I mean, why is she even on TV?"

Response: "Well, she won the Academy Award last year."

Kayla: "What?!?! That stupid bitch won an academy award? For WHAT?"

Response: "Blindside."

Kayla: "What?! That movie about a prissy white woman who lets a black kid stay with her won an Academy Award? They don't even have sex!"

My impeccable strategy of seeing as few movies as possible landed me 4 our of a possible 24 on my NYTimes Oscar ballot. My Oscar picks are apparently not Oscar’s picks. But who is the real winner? I somehow suspect it’s me.

Image: Getty images via blog.zap2it.com

There are few things in contemporary pop culture that elicit my fight-or-flight instincts more acutely than My Little Pony and dubstep. Yet Jason Kottke's thorough followup to a New York Times correction—which had misnamed a particular Pony character—magnified my worst grade-school fears by combining the two. Apparently, there exists this horrifying, fist-pumping subgenre called "dubtrot," i.e. My Little Pony dubstep remixes. The sadomasochist in me just had to investigate further.

My Little Pony—specifically My Little Pony: The Movie—tarnished my childhood. The trouble began with an absolutely frightening film poster, depicting this purple ooze monster called The Smooze attacking the Ponies' Dream Castle. Stay with me here. Though I was young, I distinctly remember being coerced into the theater by my sister. Visions of surly, singing ooze consumed my dreams that night. By age 10, I was readingFangoria.

I rewatched My Little Pony: The Movie to see if it carried the same shock value as it had two decades' prior. A: no. The Ponies—with names like Lickety-Split or Shady, denoted by the ice-cream cone or sunglass tattoos on their respective asses—hurl rainbows (though not unicorn poop) at the evil ooze, saving their kingdom. Hell, Danny DeVito gets lead credit, voicing the Grundle King (choice quote: "I try not ta mention it too often! Witches! Smooze! It was terribuhl!"). Granted, De Laurentiis Entertainment Group distributed Maximum Overdrive and Blue Velvet the same year. And that sequence when the witches are rowing a pantaloons-propelled skiff over waves of Smooze, singing "Nothing Can Stop the Smooze" to a barbershop-style chorus…that's still creepily upbeat.

Speaking of creepily upbeat, let's talk "dubtrot." Kottke mentions "Rainbowstep," which I guess is a good primer for newbies. It's a Youtube clip, a blessing and curse to the post-MTV generation, as we get strobey visuals with the seismic beats and chirpy Pony dialogue. "Cuz Dubstep with Rainbows is 20% Cooler!!! XD" writes uploader—and purported My Little Pony fanboy "brony"—ZestyArt, crediting the track (or its inspiration/style?) to Skrillex, dubstep's macho-ass posterboy. Now me, I'm in crooner/producer James Blake's camp, thanks in no small part to my NYC muse's insistence. One might "dub" Blake's enveloping atmospherics as post-dubstep, but if he calls out Skrillex's antics "without naming him," then I'm taking Blake's side.  

Frat boys killed big beat, so it's no shocker those same meatheads took to Skrillex's inelegant steroidal “brostep” like Flutter Ponies to glitter. I can't credit Skrillex for dubtrot's saccharine ear-trauma (he'd sooner produceKorn's new album), and I love me some bass, like Richie Hawtin's classically ferocious live sets, replete with viscera-rearranging throbs and mind-splintering breaks.

Still, Hawtin throwing some credibility at Skrillex's Mickey Mouse beats makes me a bit vexed. The former screamo kid ain't even good enough for the bronies.

Image: DubTrot's SoundCloud avatar