L.A. Film Festival: 'Vampira and Me' is a portrait of a pioneer If on Saturday night in Los Angeles you noticed a shortage of the sort of vintage-inspired women who sport goth-y looks with blunt bangs and the skull-ring, pork-pie hat wearing men who accompany them, that might have been because they were out in full force for the world premiere of the documentary "Vampira And Me." Screening as part of the doc competition at this year's Los Angeles Film Festival, the film is a portrait of Maila Nurmi, the woman who created the enduring character of Vampira. "It was important to me that this film premiere in Los Angeles, because despite what you might have seen in a film called "Ed Wood," Maila Nurmi never had a world premiere, or a Hollywood premiere, for any film she was featured in," said filmmaker R.H. Greene to introduce the screening. Welcome to Maila Nurmi's Hollywood premiere. The story of Nurmi and Vampira is a story of the early days of television, the difficulty of translating notoriety to something more lasting and the fleeting nature of fame, as well as a lovingly affectionate look at a headstrong, determinedly independent woman who never received the credit or acclaim she deserved. Vampira lived on, even as Nurmi faded into poverty and obscurity. After being discovered at a Halloween party dressed as a variation on Morticia Addams, Nurmi went on the air in 1954 as host of a local L.A. late-night movie show, where she honed the arch characterization of Vampira that was in many ways a subversion of 1950s female stereotypes. Following a few appearances on other programs, as well as failed attempts to expand Vampira to a national show, Nurmi's star faded. She came to rue her appearance in Ed Wood's "Plan 9 From Outer Space," infamously referred to as the worst movie ever made. The rest of her life would be a struggle. Precious little footage of Nurmi performing as Vampira is known to exist; Greene bought one bit from EBay and turned up additional footage uncataloged in an archive. Greene's 1997 on-camera interview with Nurmi - who died in 2008 - forms the spine of the film, with the filmmaker eschewing other talking-head interviews to maintain a sense that this is Nurmi telling her own story. There are mentions of Marlon Brando, Elvis Presley, Liberace and, most importantly, James Dean, with whom Nurmi, by her telling, for a time was extremely close. "The wonderful thing about the age we're in now is so much is findable," Greene said after the screening. I loved Maila, but I didn't always trust her stories. But now, at this point in the evolution of the Internet, you can check out a lot of stuff. And most of them hold up completely. The only place where Maila gets dicey is when something has too much pain around it, or even worse, too much rejection. At one point in the on-camera interview, Greene stops Nurmi before she begins to cry rather than letting her sob on-camera. That sort of compassion for its subject becomes something of a talisman for the film, which never shies away from acknowledging the darker corners of Nurmi's story without needlessly dwelling there. It's really hard to make a movie about someone you love. I had never done that before," Greene said. I acknowledge that. If anybody here thinks that as a documentarian I punked out because I loved her and I wouldn't tell you everything I know, then [to heck with] you. You make one. But it will be very hard to get an interview with her, I think. When the festival's artistic director, David Ansen, moderating the post-screening Q&A, asked Greene if "Vampira And Me" had been a labor of love, the filmmaker responded, "It was certainly that." "Vampira and Me" screens again on Saturday at 7:30 p.m. at the Regal Cinemas at L.A. Live.