BY DON STRADLEY
Do you believe in ghosts? I do. Sort of…
It’s not that I have any compelling evidence, but I
find it more fun to believe than to not believe. Of all the skeptics I’ve known, none have
been fun at a party. Give me a roomful
of believers, and I can almost guarantee a nicer bunch of people, not to
mention tastier stuff at the buffet.
Watching The Life
After Death Project, a 2- disc DVD
set collecting a pair of made for TV documentaries that aired on ScyFy last
year, didn’t sway me one way or the other, but I look forward to more by
director Paul Davids. I watch a lot of
documentaries, and most of them eventually lapse into cuteness or
self-indulgence. A lot of them are 90
minute selfies. Davids won me over
because he simply allows people to talk, to describe what they’ve experienced.
He doesn’t bother with cheesy recreations, and doesn’t try to scare us. What
Davids does is create a mood as if we’re sitting around a campfire telling
stories. What’s better than that?
Disc one is the winner. It’s about Davids’ relationship
with Forrest J Ackerman, the editor and publisher of Famous Monsters of
Filmland, a fun magazine that had a curious impact on a certain faction of male
children born after 1955. Davids knew
Ackerman, and is convinced that his old friend and mentor is haunting him.
Davids interviews some other people from Ackerman’s circle, and they, too, have
experienced odd happenings that suggest a possible close encounter of the Forry
kind. Apparently, the man known to his closest admirers as “Uncle Forry†still
enjoys a good practical joke, even from beyond the grave.
Where the movie really kicked in for me was when Davids
enlisted the help of various psychics. The trio, all female, each took a crack
at speaking to Ackerman. The outcomes were fascinating. One psychic in
particular described Ackerman perfectly. I’m aware that the psychic scenes could’ve
been rigged in the editing, but so what? I was entertained, which is a rarity
these days. And if Ackerman’s friends say that he visits them in their dreams,
I’ll take them at their word. (After all
the money I spent on FMOF back in my childhood, I’m expecting a visit, too.
Forry, if you’re out there, I’m in Rockport MA, and I usually go to bed around
1:00 AM. Stop on by.)
Davids was obviously very passionate about the Ackerman
story, so disc two suffers a bit in comparison. It's mostly a series of talking head sequences where various people
discuss the subject of life after death. Even though it’s not as fun as the
first disc, some of disc two is quite interesting, particularly when Davids
talks to nurses and hospice care workers who have some amazing stories to tell.
There are allegedly some extra features on the first
disc, including some interviews with Ackerman and more spooky talk, but they
weren’t on my reviewer’s copy. Perhaps
this was another of Forry’s post life practical jokes.
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For a better understanding of Forrest J Ackerman’s
life, you could do worse than watch Uncle
Forry’s Ackermansions, now on DVD from Novemberfire.com. It’s a 70 minute labor of love from November
Fire founder Strephon Taylor and Tom Wyrsch, combining a lot of home movies,
plus some old interviews where Forry sat
with Northern Ca. horror host Bob Wilkins to tell stories about Boris Karloff,
Peter Lorre, and others.
Ackerman was the original fanboy. He created science fiction fanzines,
organized fan clubs, amassed what is probably the largest collection of sci-fi
and horror memorabilia in the world, and was eventually hired by publisher
James Warren to helm Famous Monsters of Filmland. He had a generous side, often opening his
home to the public, allowing other fans to come in and enjoy his
collection.
What drives a collector? Is it a kind of gluttony? Does
it stem from adolescent desire to have more than the other kids? Is at
overcompensation for something lacking in a person's life? I’ve known some
collectors, and their tunnel vision can be off-putting. A few are downright unhinged. A study should
be done. Unfortunately, this particular documentary doesn't tackle any serious
questions about the inner-workings of obsessive collectors. It's just a fun
jaunt through Ackerman's various homes.
Ackerman is at his most likable when he talks of his
1920s childhood, when he attended as many as seven movies in one day. He sounds
humble when he discusses how he fell in love with “fantastic films,†and even
as an old man he still seemed smitten by the robot from Metropolis. Those years must have had a profound impact on him, for
he spent the next five decades trying to relive them. This is the Ackerman I wish I had known, the
one I might have called “Uncle.â€
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