THE DEVIL’S ENCORE: WILD LITTLE BRUISES

It’s day thirty of “The Devil’s Encore Tour”, a day much like any other on this multi-city adventure: director Darren Lynn Bousman, a trio of sexy roadies, and I, arrive via van in a new town each night to premiere our musical film, The Devil’s Carnival. Following each one-night-only event screening, my travel companions and I retire to a discount hotel room, sleep for a few hours, and then hop in the van and repeat the ritual.

Tonight, as I ready for the sleeping portion of this routine, I catch site of myself in the mirror of my rented room for the night. Wiping toothpaste from my chin, I scrub a newly-acquired, motorized Little Mermaid toothbrush (don’t ask) across my gums. Gazing at my reflection, I can’t help but notice the weight my midsection has gained from a tour diet consisting almost exclusively of greasy diners and truck stop huts. I also notice a series of bruises.

The dark, discolorations spot my ribs, the back of my arms, and my love handles. I lower my gaze and follow the bruise trail down my legs to the swollen ankle above my right foot. Below the ankle, planted on the tile floor, my crooked second toe throbs.

I look and feel like I’ve lost a fight, and in many ways I have. I’m on the losing end of a battle with our van’s cargo—heavy, bulky merchandise boxes and a PA system that needs to be unloaded and then reloaded nightly on our tour. In the always rushed process of setting and striking each evening’s stage, cuts, scrapes, and bruises are commonplace. And I’m not the only one going toe-to-toe with The Devil’s Carnival gear.

I always joke that I like my women like my fish sticks: good and battered…. and sexy tour team gals, Kelly “Scully” Rybarczyk and Kimmie Yan, are sporting similar bruising to my own. These bad ass chicks aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty, lugging boxes and speakers nightly.  Yes, boys and girls alike have taken their lumps on The Devil’s Carnival touring sideshow… and lived to tell about it! Everyone’s had their share of victory and defeat, glory and humiliation, strikes and gutters.

In the frenzy of our continent trotting, we’ve all lost credit cards or had fraudulent activities charged to our accounts. We’ve all made regretful food orders—our lovely emcee, actress Carlee Baker, lost a bout with food poisoning at our August 7th Winnipeg stop. We’ve all drank more alcohol than we should’ve following (or during!) performances. And each of us has stumbled, tripped, or fallen at least once on tour.

In Charlotte, at the Neighborhood Theatre, performer Emilie Autumn (Painted Doll) made her first appearance on “The Devil’s Tour”. During a pre-show meet-and-greet with fans that night, Emilie used a chair as a ladder to climb onto the venue’s stage. Halfway into the climb, the chair legs kicked out from under her. From the corner of my evil eye, I saw what looked to be a flying pixie-ballerina sail and then crash land to the floor. Emilie’s dismount and landing, although painful-looking, were far more graceful than my own sad splays.

One night, after introducing The Devil’s Carnival to a captive crowd, the cable from the microphone I was using got tangled around my feet. I skipped, tripped, and lunged forward in a most clumsy “fall from grace”.

My left-footed lubberliness has resulted in a few longstanding injuries. In 2006, when filming the Repo! The Genetic Opera short film—a twelve-minute teaser that led to the financing of 2008′s feature film—I learned the hard way that running in GraveRobber boots can be as perilous as running with scissors. Showing off for short film Shilo, actress Kristin Fairlie, I twisted my ankle so severely that it’s yet to properly heal.

In May, on the Kansas City stop of “The Devil’s Tour”, I clumsily whacked my foot against a sturdy piece of furniture, resulting in what I think was a broken toe. Fractured or not, two-and-a-half months after the injury, the wound continues to manifest itself in the sharp, ongoing sensation that my toe is stiffening and retreating into the front of my foot.

Road wounds are not only bodily on The Devil’s Carnival tours; in the tussle of our promotional adventures, personal property has also not come out unscathed. Laptops, luggage bags, and boot zippers are just some of the possession casualties.

In the escalating stink wars of TDC‘s tour van (described in detail in my recent post “THE DEVIL’S ENCORE: CARNIVAL DISTRACTIONS”), bottled deer urine has been added to our artillery. “Dominant Buck”—or “DomBo”, as we like to call it—is apparently favored by both hunters trying to attract game and tour pranksters alike. In futile attempts to flee from stinky sprays and malodorous mischief, a half-full cup of coffee was accidentally spilled on a laptop within the van, short-circuiting the device.

Like the doomed laptop, as we near the end of this sixty-city tour, my travel fellowship and I are also on the verge of short-circuiting. Our eyes are bloodshot, our bodies bruised, our quarters befouled. No single incident better sums up our tour bruising, however, than what transpired during Saturday night’s screening at San Francisco’s Balboa Theatre.

The night’s first screening was drawing to an end. Director Darren Lynn Bousman and I were waiting beyond the theatre’s auditorium doors to be called to the stage for a post-screening audience Q&A, when suddenly, WhhAM!… an audience member kicked open the swinging doors to exit the theatre, slamming the wooden partition directly into Darren’s face, knocking him to the floor and breaking his nose.

Darren suffered a bloody beak and a mild concussion, but shook it off to return to the stage and participate in what remained of the event. Punk rock filmmaking, people. Punk rock filmmaking.

If you haven’t yet experienced The Devil’s Carnival, there are only two tour stops remaining, so don’t miss your chance to go a few rounds with us bruisers. Tickets and information are available at http://www.TheDevilsCarnival.com.