Jonny Numb

It was the August 2007 edition of Horrorfind Weekend down in Hunt Valley, Maryland.

I remember this because it was a couple weeks before Rob Zombie’s Halloween took its theatrical bow, and many of the guests were from the cast.

And the two guests of honor – read: those who were sectioned off from everyone else – while also in Zombie’s film, had extensive filmographies dotted with classics (cult and otherwise): Malcolm McDowell and – yup – Udo Kier.

At the time, the layout of the Hunt Valley Marriott was such that the main hallway outside the ballroom could accommodate a long line for the major draw(s) of the event while keeping the fire code in check.

In any case: Lizard stood in line with me because I wanted to meet McDowell – I loved him in A Clockwork Orange and pretty much everything else I’d seen him in up to that point, but was really excited to see his take on Dr. Loomis (especially since I’m not a big fan of the 1978 Halloween).

I picked what I wanted signed – a full-size Halloween theatrical poster – and gave my name to the event staff, who scribbled it on a sticky and slapped it onto the glossy paper as we crept closer to his table.

While I’m sure I said something as Mr. McDowell signed the poster, I’m hard-pressed to remember what it was.

This might have been because Kier – whose table was just a couple feet away – started throwing a tantrum.

“NEXT!” he shouted at the line.

“NEXT!” he repeated, his tanned face going beet red from the exertion.

“Yeah, yeah! Next, next!” McDowell shouted mockingly as I came around to his side of the table for a photo.

Maybe the strategy of placing McDowell and Kier side by side was one getting some trickle-down interest based on the proximity of the other. And both have competitive filmographies (the still-kicking former has 293 credits to his name, not far ahead of Kier’s 283) that place them in the same experiential sphere.

All this to say: I passed on the opportunity to meet Kier, and not because he was yelling at the crowd.

I look back on this as a missed opportunity – while I’d certainly seen Suspiria and Ace Ventura and maybe Mark of the Devil at that point, something in my logic didn’t elevate Kier to the level of spending money on an autograph (this was also before cellphones reached their final, awful form and opened the floodgates for an additional “selfie” charge). In the ensuing years – with his unhinged performances in Andy Warhol’s Dracula and Flesh for Frankenstein blowing my mind, in addition to his collaborations with Lars von Trier and S. Craig Zahler (stealing scenes in Brawl in Cell Block 99 and Dragged Across Concrete), I thought of what it would’ve been like to share some words with the intimidating little man with a gigantic Flesh for Frankenstein poster pinned up behind him.

In any case, I respect his very German lack of sentimentality and couth in breaking with the perpetually-grinning, gimme-your-money façade of convention guests to all but shout, “I traveled from the other side of the country to be here, and before that, I emigrated from Germany to live in the U.S. – so give me some attention (and money) already, you fucking nerds!”

Later, after he’d calmed down, I did see some folks conversing with him, which made me feel better.

Rest in peace, Mr. Kier.