Todd Rohal was on the second leg of a grueling festival run with his latest film when he was reminded why he put so much effort into it. Less than a week after his adaptation of Johnny Ryan’s exceedingly graphic novel “Fuck My Son” kept the Midnight Madness audience in Toronto wide awake, the director was in Austin for Fantastic Fest where he snuck in a few screenings in between all the responsibilities he had for his own film, a greater amount than usual when keeping the original title alone meant there was no way he could go through the usual channels to distribute the film – or finance it for that matter – leaving him to shoulder many of the jobs that would be handled by someone else like a producer or a publicist. Still, he could be reenergized by the response he had from more directly engaging with receptive audiences for such an irreverent film and the chance to feel far less alone when he attended a restoration of Doris Wishman’s “Dildo Heaven,” not only getting to see a second life for the 2002 comedy that the legendary sexploitation director made at the ripe old age of 89, but getting to sit next to Louise Weard, a Canadian filmmaker he long admired for taking changes with such films as the Castration Movie Anthology.
“This was all worth it for to connect to other human beings in this way in a very unexpected way, but it just made me so happy,” recalls Rohal, fittingly slightly beleaguered but nonetheless buoyant on the third leg of his festival travels out West for the film’s Los Angeles premiere at Beyond Fest. “And it gave me hope about what can be made and what’s out there.”
Rohal is well aware that this isn’t an experience that’s accessible to everyone – after his own whirlwind traveling with “Fuck My Son,” he’ll return to Tacoma where he’d more likely have to make the drive to Seattle to catch something he’d want to see than be able to slip into a theater locally. However, it fits in well with the director’s perverse sense of humor that a raucous comedy as inherently divisive as his latest, where a mother’s desire to see her mutant son (a heavily made up Steve Little) happy involves abducting a single mother (Tipper Newton) to satisfy his needs without a clue as to what to do about her prepubescent daughter (Kenzie Colmery), would be used to bring a community together for a wicked good time and Rohal thought as much about the distribution of “Fuck My Son” as much as any other part of the experience he sought to create with it.
Deciding early that he would forgo any notion of selling the film and release it himself, Rohal had complete freedom to get as gnarly with his fifth feature as its title promised, enlisting a group of trusted longtime collaborators including Robert Longstreet to play the villainous mother in drag, and plot a roadshow tour across the U.S. with theatrical runs intended to stir up the excitement that generally accompanies a midnight movie at a festival where an audience truly doesn’t know what’s coming and the crowd shares the delight of experiencing something together they surely could not at home for any number of reasons. After first making a name for himself with the scrappy “The Guatemalan Handshake” that seemed to luxuriate in the idea it was a bit dirty in both its humor and the specks of film grain that would appear from shooting in 35mm, “Fuck My Son” would seem to mark a return to his freewheeling roots as it turns poor taste into something delicious when it involves psychedelic morning cartoons (“The Meaty Mates,” a kids’ show where the characters are made up of cold cuts) and a preshow warning with glasses handed out beforehand, set up to block any potentially offending elements, only to have the reverse effect.
When “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” just celebrated its 50th anniversary, “Fuck My Son” comes as a reminder of the kind of transgressive delight that once made moviegoing so much fun and as Rohal looks to do something unique in this day and age by joining a grand tradition of cult filmmakers in bootstrapping it, he graciously took the time to talk about what he felt was an obligation to make a movie that could get audiences excited about going to theaters, what it was like to see such an outrageous film on an IMAX (as it screened in Toronto) and getting back to his most innocent impulses between the film’s enjoyably juvenile humor and working with effects and makeup he dreamed of as a kid.
This has been a burning question for me since seeing it on IMAX for its second screening at the Toronto Film Fest, at what point did you know it was going to be presented on such a gigantic screen?
I went to see “Nirvanna: The Band The Show The Movie” a couple nights before and I walked in and I was like, “Is this where we’re playing? This isn’t where we’re doing our second screening, right?” and I think Tipper [Newton] looked it up and [said] “No, we’re in this theater.” And I was like, “ Oh fuck.” My first thought was people are going to see reflections of the crew [when projected that big], I don’t know. I’ve never seen this movie this big. “The color correct was on a screen [a fraction of the size], so [I was worried] projected in front of however many people sit in that theater, we’re going to see every pore in your face. That was terrifying.
And fantastic.
Thank you. Yeah, I had sweat just pouring down during [the screening] like, “This could go so weird.” But also the acoustics in an IMAX theater are designed so that you don’t hear anything outside of this space around you, so it was 180 degrees different than the previous night where the theater is designed to have sound like a wave in so everyone can hear each other [laugh]. You’re trying to gauge reaction off sound and you can’t hear any [in an IMAX] and I’m seeing people move because I was sitting way in the back on that one, just seeing where people left or what what made them sick or what it was it was turning them off. So I’m [thinking], what is it like to watch this movie on the screen this big where you’re in an isolation chamber watching it. I was very curious and these are all brand new experiences for all of us at the same time. I don’t know if that’s better or worse, but the sound and picture could not have been better.
You noted during the Q & A Johnny’s mom was in the audience. I assume she, like myself, didn’t want to stay up for the midnight show.
Yeah, she brought two friends and [they and] Johnny and his girlfriend went out for dinner the night before and I haven’t gotten all the information yet, but the friends flew out from California to Toronto for this thing and were convinced that, “No, this movie’s fine.” I don’t know how much they knew about Johnny’s work because they asked, “What’s the title of it? “And he says it’s “Fuck My Son,” and they’re like, “Oh, ha ha ha.” And they’re like, “Does this have sex in it?” And he [said], “Yes,” so Johnny’s mom made it all the way through [the screening], but Johnny’s mom’s one friend who was convinced it was going to be okay and that she loves this kind of stuff was out within five minutes.
I guess you should know from the title, but the good thing about the movie is you’re in or you’re out in those first five minutes.
Yeah, there’s no trick, but I love that Johnny, of all people, had to have a conversation with somebody trying to convince them, “No, this is probably not for you,” and they’re like, “Ha ha, you’re so funny little Johnny,” and I wanted that whole Q&A [after the screening] just to be with Johnny’s mom, but she was way over [on the other side of the theater] and we couldn’t hear each other. We got one question to her, [asking how she felt about Johnny being the author] and she said, “Ashamed and proud.” And I was like, “I have a hundred questions for you.” I mean, I would love to do a Mother’s Day screening.
Since that’s a pretty inspired idea, I had to ask, how much were you thinking about how you’d put this out into the world before making it? Because if you weren’t planning to ever appease a potential distributor, I have to imagine that change how you went about making it.
I was talking to a friend of mine about it who does who does really good, but really crazy, sadistic, depraved stuff and he made some movies 10, 15 years ago that were really nuts and they didn’t get any traction, and I was like, “Now is the time to do it. Things are getting so much so much more safer and safer” and I felt there’s this constraint on what’s okay and what’s allowed and what’s not, especially with Netflix and streaming. Studios used to finance all kinds of crazy shit in the ’70s and ’80s and it’s gotten less and less but then with everything’s going to streaming and we just know that we’re not allowed to have the stuff that people had in the ‘70s and ‘80s, so there’s this instinct not to do it all. So I was [saying], “You should make an X-rated movie, not for Netflix, but we still have theaters in our lives. They’re still open. What if you just made it for them?” So I pitched him this whole idea of what this movie ended up becoming, not ever thinking that would be for me.
And he [said], “I don’t really want to do that right now,“ but then when I got Johnny’s comic, I was reading it and [thought], “Oh man, this is a movie. I can just see it. Going through it was like reading the storyboards of a movie.” Then I thought about that conversation I had with my friend and [realized] that conversation was me talking to myself. And [the idea] truly scared me and I thought that’s what every filmmaker I love would think — do what scares shit out of you. [I thought generally] well, it’s not really me and I’m not like a pervo that’s going to do a sex movie with nudity. That’s going to be so uncomfortable to ask people, but it became this conversation back and forth with myself [thinking], this is exactly what should drive making a movie, as crazy as it was. I sat on it for a couple weeks and didn’t mention it to anybody and then was like, “I think I need to do this because I truly was at a spot where there was nothing, no way to get a movie made and no possibilities ahead.
It was really like hitting a point where I’ve driven myself off the road and I’m stuck in the woods somewhere and [I thought] if it’s the last thing I do, who cares because maybe the last thing I did is already done. And this should be the pathway to see how to distribute it and it went against everything going on currently [in the industry]. I [thought] I don’t do any meetings on this. I’ll just raise the money myself. I’ll just put it out myself, and that’s what did it because I could see a means to do it that didn’t require asking permission from somebody else.
These are all longtime collaborators of yours involved, but you’ve said there was a time where you were afraid to even mention it to anyone. What was it like actually sharing the idea with others?
I was excited about it at that point. I had it written already and I went to them with the [pitch], “This is what I want to do and this is why it’s going to be good.” There was hesitation on their part because it’s like, “Who wants ‘Fuck My Son’ on their IMDB? You’ll see these Netflix shows and then… Maybe we don’t want to be involved in that,” for good reason. But that was also why when reading the comic for the first time, I was picturing [specific people] in it, and I knew I wasn’t going to do a casting call. I knew you have to make this with friends that understand you and get where you’re coming from because on the page, how can you send that to an actor and be like, “What do you think?” They’re going to think this is disgusting and horrible. It would be the end of my career. So luckily, [the people I knew already] were all on board and we all worked together before so that trust was there.
Kynzie’s obviously a newcomer and she couldn’t have looked more pleased to be at the premiere in Toronto, but like not staying for the screening itself, I imagine she had to be shielded on set from the more unsavory aspects of the story as you were making it. What was it like setting up a production for that?
She’s truly a fascinating kid. She told me she watched “The Shining” when she was eight, but she’s also very religious and such a sweet kid, just like so balanced and I think her parents recognized that and were fully aware of what we were doing. The [scene where she’s trapped in an] oven, crying, crying, crying, if I showed you that raw take, it’s very devastating of a person screaming for her life and calling for her mom [in character] — people were crying when we were shooting it — but she’s laughing as soon as I called “cut” and goofing around. She connected in a way that would not be the stereotype of a kid from Abilene, Texas. We lucked out so much and we’d keep off anything that was just inherently gross [away from her]. But Tipper’s in her underwear the whole time and Kynzie didn’t care, and it didn’t really feel like we were having two sets going simultaneously. It was just more language I didn’t want to have around her and we had a SAG representative on set. Once SAG was like, “What’s the title of the movie?” there were a million questions and we were open about it, making a movie called “Fuck My Son” that has kids in it, and had a SAG representative come on set and once he saw the environment we were in and what the kids were in it, he just sat back, like “This is great.” And at the same time, there was a big religious show shooting in Texas and he’s like, “There are massive violations going on over there and it just says a lot about people. Like you can see somebody say, ‘That looks like the scariest dude in the world, but he’s got kids and really loves those kids and there’s a very fine-looking family presenting themselves as Christians and they’re abusing their children.’”
That felt great, but it’s like I do care about every single person on the set and was very upfront about that and wanted them to know what we’re doing. It’s also like, why can’t we communally make something that seems funny and stupid and fucked up ? I think Kynzie’s connection to that too is she does haunted houses and acts like a creepy little kid with black eyes. She sees the fun in Grimm’s fairy tales stuff and for kids, that’s a natural. They can divide between reality and fiction because it’s so extreme and adults sometimes don’t get a joke kids do. This is very much a kids’ movie – not the kids should see it. But we were tapping into our dirtiest ten-year-old selves making this, and that freedom is still something you can tap into as an adult that’s very healthy. That’s what I’m hoping when you watch it is you’re tapping into that dirty, lowbrow [juvenile] humor, but then mixed with maybe a higher brow thing – I really wanted to somehow connect those things without forcing it on people.
Speaking of being a kid, what was it like to get to work with Robert Kurtzman and Marcia King for the makeup on this?
That was so fun, seeing what they can sculpt. That whole suit [Steve wears] is hand-sculpted, from the top to Steve’s head to the bottom, every little detail is hand-painted. I get up reading Fangoria and Starlog and that was how I knew what movies were when I grew up in Ohio. Those were the only magazines I could get about movies that explained them and I mean so truly fascinated with that. I got Gabe Bartalos, another effects guy, to help sculpt some stuff and I got to go to his studio and to see all these props from the movies that I saw as a kid and then be able to talk to Kurtzman and he’d bring up, “Oh we did this effect on ‘Pulp Fiction’ or ‘Wishmaster,’ you’d be like “Wow, I didn’t even think I was moving into that dream,” the arts and crafts of filmmaking you can’t get more [than with] horror movies. That’s the best. All that analog stuff that we did was so fun and we really felt connected to making movies.
Something that was interesting to hear you say in Toronto was how it wasn’t until Steve put on the prosthetics that you started to develop the character. I imagine that might’ve happened to a degree with Robert Longstreet as well with his makeup. What was it like to find the characters with them?
Great, because we didn’t have enough money to do a lot of tests. We [had] a bust of Steve and Robert and then built the makeup on that, so it wasn’t that we were on set the week of [production] that we could see how it moved. I didn’t know how to move on Steve’s face and it was very nerve-wracking. I had ideas like, “God, what if we have to do VFX on his eyes, then how do we get a performance out of him? What’s his voice going to be like [with the affect of the makeup]? How much does he vocalize?” So it wasn’t until he had that [makeup] on and seeing him move [where we could say] “Maybe Fabian speaks a lot. Maybe it’s all garbled. Maybe it’s silent.” There was no way to commit to one of those without until we saw it.
For Robert, we talked about old women and how to do all that. He was very nervous about that voice and he [would] do it on the phone for me and it was cracking me up. He would sing “Jingle Bells” as this old woman and it would be so funny to me, so that was less of a worry and there’s only so much of a range for an old woman. The makeup was so good, and I’ve known Robert for 20 years, but it was so uncanny having this old woman makeup and hearing his voice come out as Robert not doing the old lady voice, just [thinking] “This is so fucked up.” It really took days to [adjust]. And we shot [somewhat] in order, so Steve had the makeup and he’s not in the movie for the first bit, so he had a week or two to think about it and then [once we were] on set, we did multiple takes just to see what happened. Steve might show up and he might be relying on me to tell him what to do, but the shit that comes out of his mouth [spontaneously] was so funny, so inspired and so bizarre, I wish we had time to do like a hundred takes. Each one would be different, and he was just sitting there [in character] and I was concerned about like, how brain damaged is this thing? I [asked] Johnny, what is [this character]? And he said “It’s a piece of shit with a face on it.” So I had a whole backstory where [this character was] not really human, which I think gave us the freedom to do whatever without feeling like it was punching down on something.
When you’re answering to only yourself, did you feel like you could keep adding ideas even after the shoot in ways you couldn’t before?
The freedom to just keep adding to the pile was great because sometimes if you have an agreement with the producers like, “Okay, that’s what this character is going to be and we agree on that,” you’re locked into something and having the flexibility to change your mind is great while you’re making it. Casting changes so much of a character once you know who’s playing it and sometimes you don’t know who you’re casting until right before [filming]. I just didn’t have to ask anybody permission for something. It was just immediate. Let’s do it. This makes sense. So it was really removing the corporate aspect of it and that’s why a lot of these B-movies have that sense of freedom to them because it’s not all being questioned and rethought or crowd tested. It’s just the idea that total.
That freedom was wonderful. We thought we were going to shoot the movie in 3D because I wanted to say “Fuck My Son, Rated X in 3D” And Ben Kasulke, the [director of photography], and I went down months of paths talking to people in the industry about 3D — from James Cameron’s company to Ang Lee’s company to guys that did it for “Friday the 13th Part 3.” It was so fun and fascinating. We were trying to figure how to do it on the lowest budget possible but once we got down to it, we were like, “Oh my god, this movie is going to be a bunch of dudes around the camera talking tech stuff and we have to just keep the crew small and just friends.” But that [gave me the idea for the] opening [because] I [thought], “What if I invent a new technology that censors the movie for people?” That’s where the Perv-A-Vision and “Nude Block” stuff came from – this idea of “wouldn’t it be great if I could watch things and remove the aspects I don’t like from them, which is very 2025. I love that idea and [also] getting that kind of thing with people saying “Well, I wish the movie would have ended here.” And here, you could leave [any time you want] when you feel the movie’s wrapped up and done. I like the freedom to choose, so that felt like the right direction.
It’s funny you mention talking to all these people that wouldn’t typically work on a film like this because from growing up in Burbank, I knew of a lot of animators that would get excited about a project like this because it was so radically different from the kids’ shows they would work on.
Johnny worked on “Looney Tunes” cartoons for a long time, and I think pulling people from underground comics to make Looney Tunes is like Tim Burton coming in to “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure.” They have these childlike creative instincts to make these things and they’re not going to add all their subversive stuff, but they’re going to have instincts that are more childlike — in a violent or weird way. Kids innately love that and we censor it maybe now for them because of other world problems and because how big the world is, but when it comes down to it, it is a very human natural instinct to laugh at violence or things you don’t understand. I’m sure there’s early Looney Tunes in the ’40s where you can imagine what those guys were talking about and drawing. It wasn’t for public consumption, but it was probably the funniest, dirtiest, weirdest best ideas in that whole cartoon world.
Was there a moment where you thought this was working on the right register?
On set, when Tipper hit emotional beats like where she’d be able to go from Bruce Campbell-like goofiness into truly emotional [territory] and having people on set cry over watching it, [I would think] “Whoa, this is going to be a little bit of a whiplash of emotion,” which is what I want. There were moments on set like I couldn’t believe we were shooting and Tipper, at the end, when she’s getting very emotional, it was like, “I can’t believe this is for “Fuck My Son,” so there were definitely moments like that where I was so glad I have actors that know what they’re doing well.
But because we shot in order and then I edited alone in order, I didn’t get to the end [until the end] and there’s always that feeling, “What if we didn’t get a setup that we needed?” And it was maybe not until the screening here [in L.A.] that I’m starting to feel like this does work. I don’t want people to be angry, but there is a feeling that’s a mix between disgust and laughter and maybe feeling joy over somebody else in the audience really being sick about it. It’s like, what would I feel? [I think] what movies like this do I hold in high esteem? It’s clearly John Waters, but it’s not like I would say [out of the blue], “Hey guys, let’s watch ‘Pink Flamingos’ tonight. Have a great time!” But if it’s something we all know what we’re getting into at the same time, it might not be something we’ll all be on the same page on, but [we’ve agreed] to get into it together and that’s fun.
What was the Beyond Fest screening in L.A. like for you?
It was great. [The Egyptian] is a fantastic theater. It was a hundred years and three months to the day of the premiere of “Gold Rush” in that same theater, which was pretty cool and it was actually the best screening for me because there’s a lot of people I knew of that I’ve never met that were there and I think L.A. can be a town that maybe will turn on you quickly. But the reaction after and hearing from other people secondhand from their friends, for the first time that next morning just reading some texts, my body started to relax a little bit. There’s people that can just trash it —in Toronto, [there were people saying] “This movie’s made out of AI” and we’re such the small guy, it was like being like the little punk kid that comes into school and they just get pummeled, but [the Beyond Fest screening] really felt like that turning point for me like, “Oh, people might get what this is.”
I wouldn’t describe myself as a proponent of AI, but I can’t imagine you would put as much effort into releasing it if you didn’t put just as much into making it yourself.
Yeah, there’s a lack of consideration for intent and context that’s being left out of the conversation. It’s like you use Photoshop, but if you use Photoshop on this [specific] photo as if that all needs to be thrown in the trash. Why would that negate it from something? Also as an artist, there’s no reason you’re not going to find a computer to supplement. That’s like being a weightlifter and being like, “Well, I can just have a robot lift my weight.” Your body does this, so it’s weird to be called lazy and not creative. I come from a place where you have an idea and you want to see that idea visualized, so certain platforms can do that and that’s very fascinating for little sketches.
I’ve certainly had experiences with AI that work as a creative antidepressant where I’m not putting that work out necessarily or if I do, it might be a funny post to send it to some friends, but it’s like drawing a sketch and sending it to a friend. Maybe that is something fun, but I don’t [understand] why can’t I make that and make these movies and combine them and whatever seems to work. I made some really bad AI shit, like I found this one program that’s really what they’re calling hallucinations, It was making insane shit and it made some things I use in little blips in one of the sex scenes because it was so crazy. It was like finding a picture on a wall and using it as an insert in that, but it’s not a computer making the movie by any means. It’s just like throwing an animated GIF in there.
After Toronto I saw, “This could get people to come after the movie that’s got so many more offensive things than the AI,” and it’s too much of a Twitter comment world for me. I’ve never had a Twitter account. It always has to be a human interaction and [I’m thinking] these are people making movies, but we don’t make money doing this, so what do you think you’re going to end up with at the end of this? It is gonna be a really good paper term paper for somebody down the road where they’re like why did cinema die? Audience killed the filmmakers.
Those were likely people that hadn’t seen the film, but it’s ironic because you are putting faith in audiences to show up with such an independent release.
Yeah, October 17 we’ll open in New York and then we’ve got a different city every week booked through the end of the year and we’ll continue that into next year once more calendars open up. Then I have a 35 [mm] print that we’re going to start projecting in places with the idea that this is staying in theaters as a complete response to what the world is now. This movie is not made for Netflix and if what streaming services are saying is we’ll placate you, give you a week [in theaters] and then it comes out a week later [on streaming], that’s not a good path for where we’re on.
And exploitation movies have been responsible for saving theaters through threats in different eras, from radio and television, so I felt like that’s my part in this— let’s just keep in theaters as long as we can because it would be it’s a fun movie to see as a 22 years old [thinking] there’s a movie that you can only see in theaters where you’re allowed to scream at the screen and maybe you love it and the person next to you hates it or vice versa, but that’s an experience you can’t have at home. And there is another phase that will come with it, opening it up to have people work as curators in their own town to book it [where] let’s say you have a cinema in Tulsa, Oklahoma and [you think] I want to see more things I’m interested in come here, we’ll help you book the theater if you bring people in. Maybe you can also book Alan Resnick’s weird “Dance Freak” or “The Peepee Poopoo Man” or “People’s Joker” and you serve as the New Line Cinema of your town.
Depending on how this goes, that would be the next phase of this, providing an opportunity to be your local programmer for like a night. Like what if you convince your cinema to do a Terror Tuesday-type screening and bring in these movies and then we split the profits with the filmmakers. I think that could be lucrative for everybody, but the idea is to just do it ourselves and not wait because that time can kill you between festivals and being like, “I hope somebody buys this” and it’s a year later, and people have understandably moved on. You sit there for six months waiting while it dies and these theaters are still running. They’re still keeping the lights on. It’s not going to be forever, so that was [our motivation] from the get-go.
It seemed like a pretty pointed detail in your biography in the press notes that you once took around your single 35mm print of “Guatemalan Handshake” to theaters for its release. Does it feel like deja vu?
Yes, and a lot of the same bookers are there. In Toronto, I ended up at the Janus Films party because a friend invited me and it was like, “Oh these are all the people that booked [“Guatamalan Handshake”] back in 2006. They’re all still running the same [arthouses] or somewhere else and it’s so great to talk to them because they’re true cinephiles. They remembered me from doing that and that meant a lot because it also meant that not everybody’s doing it. Understandably so — it’s not really what filmmakers are meant to do, but I understand the desperation with this. It’s like it’s going to die if I don’t do it and I feel like cult stuff takes time to gather your cult and that this has to be proven. Each of these [self-distributed films] is a step and hopefully to not have it tank because anytime somebody else tries to make a movie like this or something that’s outside, people can point to it and say that failed therefore you shouldn’t do it. So that’s a little bit of a load on my back to be like, “I’ve got to push this” because I think that will help the next thing that’s good.
From doing “Guatemalan Handshake,” there’s a lot of lessons from that like how you can live cheaply, sleep on friends’ couches and do this. I’m a little older now, so it’s a little bit different, but I think there are more opportunities at theaters than there was even in 2006 because back then, it was shifting over to digital and I had a 35 print of that movie and people were [saying], “We don’t want 35 prints.” Now of course 35 is a big selling point, so I don’t know if I’m way behind the curve or ahead, but you find the curve comes back and that’s great if there’s still theaters alive.
“Fuck My Son” will begin its fall theatrical run with weeklong runs in New York with at the IFC Center starting October 16th, Los Angeles at the Alamo Drafthouse DTLA on October 23rd and Austin at the Alamo Drafthouse South Lamar on October 31st. It will have special 35mm screenings at the Nitehawk Cinema in Williamsburg on October 31st and November 1st, the Alamo Drafthouse New Mission on November 5th-8th in San Francisco, the Music Box Theatre in Chicago on November 14th and 15th, the Gap in Wind Gap, Pennsylvania on November 22nd, the Texas Theatre in Dallas on November 28th and 29th, the Grand Illusion Cinema at the SIFF Film Center in Seattle on December 5th and 6th, the Plaza Theater in Atlanta on December 12th and 13th, the Revue Cinema in Toronto on December 19th and PhilaMOCA in Philadelphia on December 26th and 27th. An updated list of theaters and dates is here.