The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories
This is the afterparty for the locally produced apocalyptic horror movie Cthulhu, a film that books (and Party Crasher) editor Paul Constant just so happened to completely trash in the pages of The Stranger. Before my mission, Constant warns via e-mail that cowriter-director Grant Cogswell is not happy about the review, and while I "won't get beat up," people might "act weirdly" toward me.
Thankfully, when a friend and I arrive at More Dust Than Digital, a studio above the Neptune Theatre, Cogswell is only a little pissed about the review and welcomes us enthusiastically. Although his invitation had said to arrive after 10:00 p.m., and it's not quite 11:00, Cogswell informs us that we've missed the party's peak. Small pockets of people are spread throughout the studio's numerous nooks and crannies, which are all quite sterile and well-kept—more digital than dust. Christmas lights strung about the walls glow among sleeping computer screens. The hosts generously offer us what's left of the dwindling beer supply.
Little of the conversation is focused on Cthulhu or its aforementioned review, and although Cogswell is heard to mention the phrase "unnecessary roughness" several times throughout the slowing festivities, he seems more eager to talk about future projects, which are reportedly already in the works. Before long, the fridge is empty and we're resigned to cheap red wine in plastic cups, one of the best hangover recipes known to man. Conversation becomes lethargic. A couple sneaks off on a beer run and returns just in time with two magical red, white, and blue boxes, and after that, all we remember are the laughs.
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