(1958)
Dir - Bert I. Gordon
American International Pictures' answer to Universal's The Incredible Shrinking Man was Attack of the Puppet People, which doubles as the best B-movie of many from director Bert I. Gordon. Though it is low on action and takes longer than would be expected to deliver on its gimmick of actors shrunk down to doll size, the kindly yet eccentric Mr. Franz, (played by John Hoyt as the kinda nice old man that every parent in the neighborhood would trust to watch their children), is one of the strangest antagonists in any genre film. Most elderly people who are adverse to loneliness would never think of experimenting with a human-shrinking apparatus in order to keep people that he likes as pets that only wake up when he lets them out of their glass containers to have tea parties and the like, but that is where this guy comes in. The film's oddness is uniquely sinister and the special effects are impressive for the time period.
399. HABIT
(1997)
Dir - Larry Fessenden
Larry Fessenden has long been a mainstay in independent genre cinema, either as an actor, producer, or occasional filmmaker. His 1997 full-length Habit remains his strongest both behind of and in front of the lens; a brooding, low-budget, mumblecore interpretation of vampirism as addiction. The metaphor has been explored numerous times before and Fessenden's on-screen persona Sam makes for a believable victim/protagonist. Being a fuck-up with a heart of gold, he is already an alcoholic when we meet him having recently overcame his neglectful father's death and now ripe for a relationship rebound when he encounters the subtly strange yet intoxicatingly alluring Anna; a woman whose tendency to vanish and never eat or drink is only slightly less weird than her insistence on using her teeth during sex.
398. I AM A GHOST
(2012)
Dir - H.P. Mendoza
Spinning the haunted house movie on its head within a shoestring budget no less, indie writer/director H.P. Mendoza's apply titled I Am a Ghost takes a minimalist and unique approach to its material. For a peculiar and unsettling seventy-six minutes, we are stuck with Anna Ishida in an old timey house, witnessing a loop of the same scattered moments again and again for what seems like an absurd amount of time before the monotony is finally shattered by a disembodied voice that calls out to her and asks her to repeat the title of the movie to herself. This kicks in a fascinating musing on the afterlife and what it takes for people to move on from it, in this case being a particularly difficult one where something somewhere is stopping Ishida from passing over. The film's style is as singular as its structure, presented in a rounded aspect ratio where the digital film print seems to be crackling and breaking down at various intervals. It all gradually revs up to an unsettling climax that answers some questions yet wisely not all of them, giving the audience just enough to ponder as well as appreciate.
397. RINNE
(2005)
Dir - Takashi Shimizu
For his entry in producer Takashige Ichise's J-Horror Theater series, Ju-On creator Takashi Shimizu concocted maybe the most ambitious of the bunch with Rinne, (Reincarnation). A film-within-a-film-within-some-other-stuff, he and fellow screenwriter Masaki Adachi loosely explore past lives and supernaturally inherited memories within a contemporary-styled hotel that was left abandoned after a guy decided to murder everyone in it while filming such exploits on an 8mm camera. At the same time, a film crew is making a horror movie about just such an event and at one point three different timelines seem to be intermingling simultaneously, much to the confusion of the viewer as well as the characters. Though it is nil on plot, the boldness of the presentation and relentlessly spooky mood, (plus a laughably creepy doll that is one for the books), makes it as enjoyable as it is messy.
396. MILL OF THE STONE WOMEN
(1960)
Dir - Giorgio Ferroni
Heavy on atmosphere though stagnant in pacing as many other European genre films of the day were, Giorgio Ferroni's Mill of the Stone Woman is still a significant work in Italian horror. The first such movie to be shot in color there, it features the wonderful Gothic mill of the title which is oddly equipped with a macabre carousel of female statues. Things take a while to get going and the third act ends in another typical blaze of fire, (as pretty much every horror movie was then required to finish on, no matter what country said film was made in), but the centerpiece when Pierce Brice only seemingly succumbs to madness amidst the oppressively spooky atmosphere of his surroundings is beautifully staged and photographed.
395. CHILDREN OF THE DAMNED
(1964)
Dir - Anton M. Leader
A solid sequel, Children of the Damned changes the nature of its title characters which presents a standard if still potent allegory for mankind's fear of the unknown. A different director, screenwriter, and producer from 1960's Village of the Damned are on board with no connection to John Wyndham's initial novel and here the children's only malicious actions are in self defense against military personnel and embassy members who themselves are distrustful and motivated by survival. The parallel between the two is interesting and it builds to a gripping stand-off where chaos randomly intervenes, further emphasizing the unsure nature of the characters. It is less chilling than its predecessor yet deeper on a philosophical level, plus there are still some excellent telekinetic power displays and fine performances all around.
American International Pictures' answer to Universal's The Incredible Shrinking Man was Attack of the Puppet People, which doubles as the best B-movie of many from director Bert I. Gordon. Though it is low on action and takes longer than would be expected to deliver on its gimmick of actors shrunk down to doll size, the kindly yet eccentric Mr. Franz, (played by John Hoyt as the kinda nice old man that every parent in the neighborhood would trust to watch their children), is one of the strangest antagonists in any genre film. Most elderly people who are adverse to loneliness would never think of experimenting with a human-shrinking apparatus in order to keep people that he likes as pets that only wake up when he lets them out of their glass containers to have tea parties and the like, but that is where this guy comes in. The film's oddness is uniquely sinister and the special effects are impressive for the time period.
(1997)
Dir - Larry Fessenden
Larry Fessenden has long been a mainstay in independent genre cinema, either as an actor, producer, or occasional filmmaker. His 1997 full-length Habit remains his strongest both behind of and in front of the lens; a brooding, low-budget, mumblecore interpretation of vampirism as addiction. The metaphor has been explored numerous times before and Fessenden's on-screen persona Sam makes for a believable victim/protagonist. Being a fuck-up with a heart of gold, he is already an alcoholic when we meet him having recently overcame his neglectful father's death and now ripe for a relationship rebound when he encounters the subtly strange yet intoxicatingly alluring Anna; a woman whose tendency to vanish and never eat or drink is only slightly less weird than her insistence on using her teeth during sex.
(2012)
Dir - H.P. Mendoza
Spinning the haunted house movie on its head within a shoestring budget no less, indie writer/director H.P. Mendoza's apply titled I Am a Ghost takes a minimalist and unique approach to its material. For a peculiar and unsettling seventy-six minutes, we are stuck with Anna Ishida in an old timey house, witnessing a loop of the same scattered moments again and again for what seems like an absurd amount of time before the monotony is finally shattered by a disembodied voice that calls out to her and asks her to repeat the title of the movie to herself. This kicks in a fascinating musing on the afterlife and what it takes for people to move on from it, in this case being a particularly difficult one where something somewhere is stopping Ishida from passing over. The film's style is as singular as its structure, presented in a rounded aspect ratio where the digital film print seems to be crackling and breaking down at various intervals. It all gradually revs up to an unsettling climax that answers some questions yet wisely not all of them, giving the audience just enough to ponder as well as appreciate.
(2005)
Dir - Takashi Shimizu
For his entry in producer Takashige Ichise's J-Horror Theater series, Ju-On creator Takashi Shimizu concocted maybe the most ambitious of the bunch with Rinne, (Reincarnation). A film-within-a-film-within-some-other-stuff, he and fellow screenwriter Masaki Adachi loosely explore past lives and supernaturally inherited memories within a contemporary-styled hotel that was left abandoned after a guy decided to murder everyone in it while filming such exploits on an 8mm camera. At the same time, a film crew is making a horror movie about just such an event and at one point three different timelines seem to be intermingling simultaneously, much to the confusion of the viewer as well as the characters. Though it is nil on plot, the boldness of the presentation and relentlessly spooky mood, (plus a laughably creepy doll that is one for the books), makes it as enjoyable as it is messy.
(1960)
Dir - Giorgio Ferroni
Heavy on atmosphere though stagnant in pacing as many other European genre films of the day were, Giorgio Ferroni's Mill of the Stone Woman is still a significant work in Italian horror. The first such movie to be shot in color there, it features the wonderful Gothic mill of the title which is oddly equipped with a macabre carousel of female statues. Things take a while to get going and the third act ends in another typical blaze of fire, (as pretty much every horror movie was then required to finish on, no matter what country said film was made in), but the centerpiece when Pierce Brice only seemingly succumbs to madness amidst the oppressively spooky atmosphere of his surroundings is beautifully staged and photographed.
(1964)
Dir - Anton M. Leader
A solid sequel, Children of the Damned changes the nature of its title characters which presents a standard if still potent allegory for mankind's fear of the unknown. A different director, screenwriter, and producer from 1960's Village of the Damned are on board with no connection to John Wyndham's initial novel and here the children's only malicious actions are in self defense against military personnel and embassy members who themselves are distrustful and motivated by survival. The parallel between the two is interesting and it builds to a gripping stand-off where chaos randomly intervenes, further emphasizing the unsure nature of the characters. It is less chilling than its predecessor yet deeper on a philosophical level, plus there are still some excellent telekinetic power displays and fine performances all around.
(2011)
Dir - Carlo Ledesma
With horror mockumentaries, filmmakers can have their cake and eat it too as they can present "found" footage in a more believable manner than if it was conventionally shot, all the while explaining away the editing of said footage which can then be enhanced by creepy music. Such is the case with Carlo Ledesman's debut The Tunnel, which was crowd-funded, set and largely shot in actual abandoned tunnels underneath Sydney, Australia's railway systems. The locale is excellent and even though nothing frightening transpires until halfway through, enough natural atmosphere is conjured up beforehand by simply venturing into the pitch-black, dilapidated, and maze-like setting. The movie's personal drama + government conspiracy narrative is less interesting than the ludicrously unsettling images that the last act packs in, yet the actors do excellent work selling both their interview segments and their desperate and terrified reactions underground.
(1996)
Dir - Pupi Avati
For the first three decades of his still on-going and prolific career as a director, Pupi Avati merely dabbled in the horror genre while working more prominently in others. Both 1976's The House with Laughing Windows and 1983's Zeder are bizarre yet problematic giallo-tinged offerings, but 1996's Arcane Sorcerer, (The Mysterious Enchanter), still boasts some of the filmmaker's singular quirks while being the strongest of the unrelated trilogy. Set in the 18th century and concerning an excommunicated monsignor and his newly-appointed and also disgraced secretary, a series of bizarre events unfolds that point towards the supernatural and one delightfully macabre twist ending. Utilizing natural, candlelit lighting and set in a crumbling, isolated, and oppressive abode that is also equipped with one of the most impressive occult libraries ever brought to the screen, Avati lets everything soak in a heavy atmosphere where evil blood oaths and diabolical exchanges can thrive.
(1967)
Dir - Roy Ward Baker
The third and best entry in Hammer's Quatermass series, Quatermass and the Pit ups the production values while presenting another effectively threatening alien threat. Benefiting from an overall stronger cast including Julian Glover, Barbara Shelley, and Scottish actor Andrew Keir replacing the stiff and miscast American Brian Donlevy as the title character, this also serves as as Roy Ward Baker's first of six directorial efforts for the production company. Nigel Kneale returns as screenwriter, cinematically adapting his own television serial of the same name which fuses long dormant inset-like alien lifeforms, telekinesis, and quasi-Satanic imagery. Apocalyptic sci-fi silliness on paper, yet this is tightly presented with a memorable and destructive finale.
(2014)
Dir - Marco Dutra
Brazilian filmmaker Marco Dutra's full-length follow-up to his debut Hard Labor is the refreshingly creepy supernatural horror movie Quando Eu Era Vivo, (When I Was Alive). Dutra dabbles a wee bit in found footage with some unsettling images shown in flashback, but the film's primary objective is a common one within the genre; to bring sinister forces into a domesticated framework. Focusing on a dysfunctional family where the mother is dead, one of the children is in a mental institution for trying to murder his father, and the other two are left estranged, themes of heavy nostalgia and childhood trauma mold with the occult in a clever way. Dutra and co-screenwriter Gabriela Amaral Almeida adapt Lourenço Mutarelli's novel A Arte de Produzir Efeito Sem Causa in a mostly bare-bones fashion, letting things play out ambiguously and subverting some of the would-be malevolent expectations along the way.
(1976)
Dir - Larry Cohen
A frustratingly aloof filmmaker was Larry Cohen, but no one could deny the singularity of the man's work. One of his strangest movies and perhaps the one adhering the most to the "everything but the kitchen sink" approach was God Told Me To. Here, Cohen somehow managed to make a police procedural drama and alien takeover film while incorporating theology and a cameo by Andy Kaufman of all people. The pacing is frantic, which in this case enhances the chaotic atmosphere where everyone and everything going on in Manhattan is running on pure society-collapsing confusion. As opposed to other movies in his filmography which suffer detrimentally from annoyingly odd performances, tone clashes, and hole-ridden plots, Cohen's messy ambition here for once seems to wield head-scratching results in an engaging manner. In any event, it is easily one of the most unique horror movies of the 1970s.
(2019)
Dir - Richard Stanley
One of the better contemporary-set H.P. Lovecraft adaptations that was not directed by Stuart Gordon, Color Out of Space also stands as a triumphant return for filmmaker Richard Stanley who was over twenty years out of the game at this point. Lovecraft's source material had been brought to the screen before and Stanley's interpretation is no more or less faithful than the lot of them. While the tone bounces between amped-up absurdity, harrowing family tragedy, and special effects-laden spectacle, it is all in service to a nightmarish and otherworldly takeover story that is in keeping with Lovecraft's steadfast M.O. as an author. The same goes for Nicolas Cage who does what he is often hired to do, cranking up the gonzo for chuckles sake while simultaneously locking into the subtlety in his character's maddening burden. Gorgeously photographed in mostly tripped-out, neon purples, it is equal parts exciting, off-the-walls, and unsettling.
(1960)
Dir - Terence Fisher
Next up on the roster for Hammer Film Productions' horror remakes was their singular take on Robert Louis Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, here titled The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll. At this point, at least fifteen other movies based in some part on the same source material had been made and thankfully Hammer had the good sense to tweak the tale considerably. Entirely new characters are added, all of the plot details are different, and the dual appearances of the title characters are reversed. Here, Jekyll is gruff, homely, and speaks with a low voice whereas Hyde is dashing, charming, and speaks softly. The juxtaposition is a clever reversal where, as director Terence Fisher put it, the "charm of evil" is made paramount. Paul Massie is effective and appropriately overly-dramatic as the doomed doctor, plus Christopher Lee plays an against-type pathetic gambler who still manages to be the lesser hedonist compared to Hyde.
(2008)
Dir - Matt Reeves
"Giant monster destroys city" movies had long been done to death, found footage movies had recently been done to death, and T.J. Miller is really obnoxious, yet somehow all of these components made Matt Reeves, Drew Goddard, and J.J. Abrams' Cloverfield all the better. The gimmick of fusing two horror sub-genres together carries a lot of weight and the excellent, ambiguous marketing campaign led many to be genuinely surprised at what the movie ultimately had in store for them when it was released. Here, the handheld camera framework allows for the most intimate look that cinema has yet to offer at Godzilla-styled destruction. Even with mostly forgettable, upper class, and good looking characters caught up in the chaos of it all, plus a constant and nagging feeling of "Who is editing all of this stuff and why do they keep pointing the camera at it?", there are enough super-intense moments that it becomes one of the most exciting and unique kaiju works out there.
(2007)
Dir - Blutch/Charles Burns/Marie Caillou/Pierre di Sciullo/Lorenzo Mattotti/Richard McGuire
An excellent animated anthology horror film from France's Prima Linéa Productions, Fear(s) of the Dark features five stories and a non-linking narration from different artists and graphic designers, many of whom work prominently in comic books. Though each segment is stylized uniquely depending on the creator, they all have a uniformly stark, digital aesthetic and play out in a patiently dream-like manner. Perhaps best of all, there are no quality drops as each story is memorably, (and appropriately), eerie. A village besieged by a curious beast, a man spooking himself out in an isolated house, a lunatic with a pack of ravenous dogs, an introverted college student's clingy girlfriend, and a disembodied voice thinking her far-reaching anxieties out loud all create the perfect atmosphere of paranoia and, (as the title would suggest), fear.
(1945)
Dir - Albert Lewin
The first sound adaption of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, (which had been made a handful of times already in the silent era), stands as a philosophical answer to some of the more famous horror films of the time that were based on other known literary works. The story which itself was inspired by the Faust legend focuses on the criminally handsome, narcissistic aristocrat title character who essentially sells his soul to be immortalized in a portrait, (shown twice here in Technicolor, even though the rest of the movie is in black and white), that grows old and vile while he physically stays the same. Hurd Hatfield turns in a fittingly blank performance as Gray, changing his unemotional facial expression only subtly throughout the entire movie, whereas George Sanders is separately wonderful as the cynical and smirky Wilde stand-in Lord Henry Wotton.
(2011)
Dir - Julien Maury/Alexandre Bustillo
A modern-day vampire fairy tale by the same writer/director team of Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo that made the New French Extremity film Inside may sound either daft or terrible on paper, depending on how much torture porn one can stomach. Thankfully, the duo's follow-up Livide has only a few eye-wincing, (and sewing), visuals and none of them become too disturbing to tolerate. The narrative is nebulous and ultimately impossible to decipher, but it is also captivating in its hushed presentation. Even when Maury and Bustillo do indulge in some almost laughably nasty violence, (or the occasional jump scare, screeching monster vocalization, or twitchy camera move), the somber and dreamlike tone remains persistent. Somehow, ballerinas, magik, mechanical tea party animals, two different color eyeballs, supernaturally barricaded doors, and a depiction of the undead that puke up black bile and float when exposed to sunlight all work under the bizarre framework here.
(1966)
Dir - John Gilling
Shot back to back with and sharing the same sets/exterior locations, crew, and several actors as The Plague of the Zombies, The Reptile was another unique creature feature from Hammer Films that was neither a remake nor based on any pre-existing literary material. As was common with the production company's output, minimal screen time is dedicated to the title monster which is something that may aggravate viewers who are not in the mood to be primarily teased for the majority of the proceedings. When Jacquelline Pearce does finally appear in full reptilian make-up splendor though she makes a striking impression. Elsewhere, the film is effectively atmospheric and Anglo-Indian actor Marne Maitland makes for diabolical and string-pulling villain.
(1966)
Dir - Leslie Stevens
Written and directed by The Outer Limits creator Leslie Stevens, Incubus stands out bizarrely as a low budget horror movie spoken entirely in the constructed langue of Esperanto. It also features William Shatner in the lead, who was already working as Captain Kirk on Star Trek at the time. Considered lost for a number of decades, it is an art film of sorts with a story taking place in a fictitious village during an undisclosed time period where beautiful succubi with arbitrary powers entice corrupted victims in order to deliver them to their God of Darkness. It adheres to a bare-bones good vs evil motif, but the combination of the odd, phonetically-spoken dialog and stark, black and white cinematography gives it an unmistakable and otherworldly uniqueness.
(1975)
Dir - George A. Romero
Shot on location in West View Pennsylvania's West View Park between Seasons of the Witch and The Crazies on a $37,000 dollar budget, The Amusement Park is a rare and previously lost director-for-hire job from George A. Romero, who got the opportunity to make an education film about elderly abuse and instead concocts a fifty-three minute surreal nightmare. The Lutheran Service Society of Western Pennsylvania who commissioned the project ultimately shelved it for reasons that should become obvious upon viewing, as it is both an unrelentingly feel-bad experience and an art film that hardly conveys its message about ageism in a user-friendly manner. This of course is exactly what makes it fascinating, as Lincoln Maazel wanders through an increasingly upsetting series of set pieces that both defy and solidify a reality where senior citizens are ridiculed, disregarded, and ultimately tormented by those that have yet to experience the ravishes of time themselves.
(1988)
Dir - Masayoshi Sukita
Possibly the best or at least the most bizarre Gremlins-inspired monster puppet movie, Gakidama only runs fifty-five minutes in length and is the lone directorial effort from cinematographer Masayoshi Sukita. Based off of Baku Yumemakara's novel of the same name, the tone is low-key, the story is unsettling, and the title creature looks ridiculous and unconvincing, yet this is what makes the film such a compelling oddity. We have weird glowing orbs in the woods, a goblin that grows in people's stomachs and makes them ravenous for nourishment, a mysteriously disfigured man in a cloak who convinces one of our main characters to eat said goblin once it hatches from his mouth, and then a Trilogy of Terror-styled cat and mouse chase where a woman fends off against the destructively adorable and slimy fiend.
(2008)
Dir - Joel Anderson
Equally one of the most unsettling and convincing horror mockumentaries out there, Joel Anderson's Lake Mungo sets a high watermark for the found footage sub-genre. Many such films which take an identical approach come off as too dramatically staged or far-fetched in their interview segments and/or plot details. Though the supernatural occurrences presented here are as difficult to swallow as any, the performances and presentation are interchangeable in plausibility to any actual documentaries that exist. This creates a believable tone that allows for Anderson to properly examine the lingering effects of grief and the acceptance of loss. Thankfully, he also manages to throw a number of creepy scenes into the mix while uncovering a mystery that will delight true crime buffs as well as ghost story ones.
Dir - Joel Anderson
Equally one of the most unsettling and convincing horror mockumentaries out there, Joel Anderson's Lake Mungo sets a high watermark for the found footage sub-genre. Many such films which take an identical approach come off as too dramatically staged or far-fetched in their interview segments and/or plot details. Though the supernatural occurrences presented here are as difficult to swallow as any, the performances and presentation are interchangeable in plausibility to any actual documentaries that exist. This creates a believable tone that allows for Anderson to properly examine the lingering effects of grief and the acceptance of loss. Thankfully, he also manages to throw a number of creepy scenes into the mix while uncovering a mystery that will delight true crime buffs as well as ghost story ones.
(2013)
Dir - Simon Barrett/Adam Wingard/Eduardo Sánchez/Gregg Hale/Timo Tjahjanto/Gareth Evans/Jason Eisener
The follow up the modestly successful independent found footage anthology horror movie V/H/S takes an identical approach while noticeably improving on the framework. As is common with almost all anthology movies, (particularly ones with multiple directors), the stories are uneven yet besides the framing narrative here which is once again terrible, the rest of V/H/S/2 has enough redeemable qualities to get by. The gleefully nasty and demonic collaboration between Indonesian filmmaker Timo Tjahjanto and Gareth Evans in "Safe Haven" easily serves as the fantastic standout in this entire series. All of the other premises are flawed from a logical standpoint, but as the movie is going for fun and inventive horror movie window dressing, its dumb attributes can be seen as strengths. After all, seeing a bunch of creepy aliens crash a horny sleepover and The Blair Witch Project guys reuniting to unleash zombies is pretty hard to hate.
(1973)
Dir - Don Sharp
A wacky hybrid of horror and delinquent outlaw biker film, Psychomania has plenty of singularity to make it a standout of early 70s British cinema. One of several such movies to be directed by Hammer regular Don Sharp, it was written by Arnaud d'Usseau and Julian Zemet, both of whom had penned the previous year's outstanding Horror Express. This would also serve as the final screen appearance for George Sanders who committed suicide shorty after filming wrapped; an eerie, real life coincidence that mirrors the movie's suicide pact plot. Technically in the zombie realm, there is also vague black magic angle involving a frog deity thrown in, as various punks off themselves in elaborate ways, only to come back to vandalize and murder throughout the British countryside. Also, the rock music soundtrack is fitting, sans one horrendously terrible folk song sung by one of the character's about the main gang leader.
(1970)
Dir - Roy Ward Baker
The first in Hammer's Karnstein trilogy and their first to receive US funding through a joint American International Pictures partnership, The Vampire Lovers also served as a star-making vehicle for scream queen Ingrid Pitt. Based off of the Sheridan Le Fanu novel Carmilla, the film allowed Hammer to cash-in on more laxed censorship laws of the day, upping the nudity and lesbianism while sticking to the usual, Gothic bloodshed and bosoms formula. The vampiric mythos were given a tweak as well, since the undead here can roam about freely in the daytime. Still, the usual means of combating them with crosses, garlic, a stake through the heart, and a beheading to finish the job are all in place. Director Roy Ward Baker's career would continue with a string of moderate to notable horror outings after this and the results here, (while textbook, liberal on the plot holes, and adhering to their own borderline silly tropes like flash/callbacks and dramatic posturing), still produces effortlessly paced, atmospheric, and sexy results that represent the studio at their best.
(2022)
Dir - Michelle Garza Cervera
Another strong supernatural horror debut, (this one stemming from Mexican filmmaker Michell Garza Cervera), Huesera: The Bone Woman combines both the fear of conformity and motherhood into one young woman's nightmarish ordeal. As Natalia Solián's protagonist wrestles with malevolent forces that seem to crack her nervous system and actual bone structure as her and her husband eagerly await the start of their new family, she simultaneously must come to terms with her own lifelong balancing act of being torn between two worlds; one where she is either a "normal" mother and wife with a store-bought crib and everyone granting her proud smiles or an independent vagabond existence with her rebellious teenage girlfriend. Wonderfully performed by Solián, Cervera and co-screenwriter Abia Castillo treat the material sensitively while offering up several chilling moments.
(1989)
Dir - Michele Soavi
Re-working a screenplay that was initially to be the, (still), unmade third entry in Lamberto Bava's Demons franchise, Michele Soavi's The Church ended up being his strongest directorial effort. One of several collaborations between he and Dario Argento, (who produced and had a hand in the naturally illogical screenplay, along with a few others), it features Argento's then fourteen year-old daughter Asia who is victim to a few inappropriately sexualized moments, as usual. Despite a slow and uneventful build up, the "gates of hell" gloves eventually fly off in a delicious fashion with plenty of gore, strangeness, and even a demon puppet on board for good measure.
Dir - Roy Ward Baker/Chang Cheh
Though it has its imperfections, the odd pairing of Hammer horror with the Shaw Brothers kung-fu mayhem in The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires is mostly a success. Shot in Hong Kong, this was technically the final entry in Hammer's Drcula series even though John Forbes-Robertson steps in for Christopher Lee as the undead count, making only two brief bookending appearances and failing to live up to his predecessor even if he chews the scenery more than Lee was willing to do by the end of the franchise. Peter Cushing was still on board though and is as distinguished as ever, with he and Shaw regular David Chiang making a likeable duo against the undead. Wonderful set decoration and quirky, macabre details go a long way here and while the fight scenes that were directed by Chang Cheh drag out at times, they still provide a refreshing addition to Hammer's well-worn shtick.
(2010)
Dir - Kōji Shiraishi
For his third mockumentary horror film in half a decade, writer/director Kōji Shiraishi went with the ridiculous premise of having the Japanese idol group Momoiro Clover Z square off against supernatural forces. The resulting Shirome logically should have been played for laughs, yet Shiraishi manages to defy the odds with a malevolent, wish-granting kami butterfly spirit that garnishes oodles of otherworldly chills. This is in spite of the fact that teenagers are put in harm's way by a reckless documentary crew, all without any of the kid's parents or any law enforcement apparently being notified. Tongue-in-cheek in this respect, the found footage framework disguises something that should be taken less seriously than it is. If the wacky set-up fails to entice potential viewers, then they should be won over by a weird ghost historian asshole, a ridiculously creepy abandoned school, and bubbly J-pop girls getting possessed and constantly scared by unexplained lights while they sleep.
(2011)
Dir - Filip Tegstedt
To date the only film of any kind from Swedish director Filip Tegstedt, Marianne is one of the most grounded and emotionally potent works to deal with the troubling phenomenon of sleep paralysis. While it is based off of folklore surrounding the mare, (a nightmare spirit which has persisted over various regions and countries), the movie is in a contemporary setting and wisely examines the traumatic, guilt-ridden effects that lead to supernatural ambiguity. Considering that Tegstedt had to liquidize his assets in order to finance the movie as the Swedish Film Institute is often reluctant to fund any works in the horror genre, it is admirable that he manged to pull off something that easily overcomes its limited production values. The performances are strong, the music is evocative, and though it utilizes a handheld camera and documentary-styled visual aesthetic, Tegstedt nevertheless manages to stage a number of impressive shots and unnerving moments.
(2010)
Dir - Panos Cosmatos
Coming right out of the gate with a debut that is soaking with otherworldly style, Beyond the Black Rainbow serves as Panos Cosmatos' love letter to his parents, (Greek/Italian director George P. Cosmatos and Swedish sculptor Birgitta Ljungberg-Cosmatos), 80 genre cinema, and a slew of famous works from notable filmmakers. Utilizing grainy 35 mm stock, a combination of symmetrical and unorthodox framing, an emphasis on close-ups, an eerie throwback synth score, over-saturated primal colors, a retro sci-fi set design, and a non-moving pace that would make Andrei Tarkovsky impatient, the movie is alarmingly expressive. A mood piece first and foremost with a minimalist story that has no choice but to take a back seat to the presentation, Cosmatos self-described it as being part of the "trance film" sub-genre. It still manages to produce a sinister atmosphere, thanks largely to Michael Rogers' unsettling performance as a New Age psychopath with an appearance that is as unwholesome as his brooding obsession is.
(2015)
Dir - Radio Silence/Roxanne Benjamin/David Bruckner/Patrick Horvath
A collaborative horror anthology from independent filmmakers Radio Silence, Roxanne Benjamin, David Bruckner, and Patrick Horvath, Southbound fuses its different segments into a bloody and grit-filled whole. Several of the creative parties had worked together on V/H/S, but instead of using the found footage gimmick here, each story seamlessly blends in together and collectively represent a type of disturbed, looped purgatory that the characters seem unable to escape. Perhaps intentionally or simply judging by the time constraints of each entry, there is a consistent sense of ambiguity permeating throughout, where just enough is shown to make it creepy, but never enough to blatantly spell out what is actually happening. It is a fun ride though that is consistently violent, unsettling, and occasionally amusing.
(1971)
Dir - John D. Hancock
Silly title notwithstanding, the directorial debut and lone horror film from John D. Hancock Let's Scare Jessica to Death delivers plenty of psychologically creepy moments with a regularly eerie tone. Filmed on location in Connecticut with a loose and improvisational feel to the dialog and performances, it is loosely structured and has an amateur quality not unlike many other such low-budgeted regional works from the time period. Zohra Lampert elevates the material though as the sympathetic, emotionally disturbed, and mentally ill title character. The plotting is far from coherent, yet it lends itself to the maddening turmoil that she undergoes and the movie leaves a lingering and eerie feeling that is as ominous as the story is unresolved.
(1981)
Dir - Chih-Hung Kuei
Filmmaker Chih-Hung Kuei made a series of films for the Shaw Brothers that ranged in both quality and genre, with 1981's Bewitched making a fitting companion piece to his also off the wall The Boxer's Omen from two years later. Another cautionary tale about witchcraft gone awry and as the ending titles proclaim, "the dangers of causal sex", it has a plot line that is laughably simple yet dragged out to over an hour and a half. Even with some padding in place and a slow first act, Kuei and cinematographer Hsin-Yeh Li increasingly lean into a stark and ghoulish tone. There are gorgeous and colorful shots here of grotesque things, a haunting, a sparse and chanty score, plus once it all settles into one elaborately nasty spell being cast after the other, it rides that fun line of being both ridiculous and creepy at the same time.
(2023)
Dir - Jennifer Reeder
A little bit of John Waters mixed with Ginger Snaps, Perpetrator is a quirky coming of age kind-of monster movie that looks at female empowerment through a bizarre lens. Writer/director Jennifer Reed balances a stylistic and oddball tone that does not flesh-out all of its components, but it is consistently inventive and offers up a new form of creature that is some kind of immortal empath with fangs. As a recently-turned eighteen year old with an enigmatic family secret, Kiah McKirnan embraces her newfound powers with equal parts confusion and horror, all while a serial killer is picking off girls from her high school and doing weird, kinky blood transfusion/mutilation things with them. It cruises along without stopping to explain much, but the eccentric and singular presentation is a welcome addition to modern day midnight movie channeling.
(1975)
Dir - Robert Fuest
Featuring an appropriate level of scenery-chewing from Ernest Borgnine, wonderfully nasty make-up effects by Ellis Burman Jr., a disturbing and atonal musical score from Al De Lory, and all helmed with a controlled, ominous tone by director Robert Fuest, The Devil's Rain is one of the better realized occult exploits of the post Rosemary's Baby/The Exorcist boom. Forces of good and evil are played against each other in Borgnine's centuries-long quest to obtain an all-powerful book, pitting him against television genre players such as William Shatner, Eddie Albert, Tom Skerritt, and Joan Prather, with John Travolta even showing up in a "blink and you'll miss it" capacity. Though thin on plot and inherently silly with its robed Satanic ceremonies giving alms to the Great Deceiver, Borgnine in animalistic ram-horn prosthetics plus a face-melting finale that seems to go on for ages, there is an unnerving sincerity to the film that keeps it shy of being just an unequivocal camp fest.
(2022)
Dir - Addison Heimann
Screenwriter-turned-first-time-director Addison Heimann goes hard into crippling psychosis with the apply titled Hypochondriac. With a patient and supportive boyfriend, several dismissive doctors, a not-very-sympathetic boss, a father who deliberately acts like an asshole to snap his son out of panic attacks, a wackadoo mother whose paranoia manifests itself in violent outbursts, and a guy in a wolf costume ala Donnie Darko, there is a whole lot for Zach Villa's likeable protagonist to deal with. His mental anguish is either brought on by or enhanced by his traumatic relationship with his mother, inability to open up in his relationship, or any number of mysterious goings-on from his childhood, all of which manifests with nightmarish visions that Heimann bluntly portrays as splitting him apart. It makes for a heavy, touching, yet also regularly funny examination of mental illness, with top-notch performances and enough freaky bits to entice genre fans.
(1970)
Dir - Michio Yamamoto
At the turn of the 1970s, Toho decided to produce a trilogy of contemporary-set films concerning the undead, and the first of them was the exceptionally spooky The Vampire Doll. Age-old motifs are brought to the screen, such as a stranger arriving at a creepy house in the middle of a rain storm, said stranger then disappearing which allows for other people to come looking for him, the woman in said house clearly hiding something the whole time, a mute and brutish man servant, a family curse, some investigating on the character's parts, and a last-minute plot twist that borders on the convoluted, to name but a few. Director Michio Yamamoto handles the material with a steady and serious hand though, permeating the movie with low-key atmosphere, a sparse musical score that sounds as if someone is simply falling on an out-of-tune piano, ghostly wind noises, and Yukiko Kobayashi looking spellbinding as a yellow-eyed, blue-skinned, smiling, and porcelain blood-sucker.
(2022)
Dir - Travis Stevens
For his third full-length, writer/director Travis Stevens kicked up the Euro-horror nightmare fuel with A Wounded Fawn; a rare Greek mythology slasher movie. Presumably gaining confidence with each release, Stevens goes full in on the hallucinogenic freak-outs, dedicating the second of two acts entirely to the mental unraveling of Josh Ruben's antagonist who finds himself tormented by Erinyes goddesses after his latest murder attempt goes awry. Though less overtly comedic than his previous two films, the humor lies more in the increasing ridiculousness of the freaky set pieces that come one after the other, plus the visuals are a combination of giallo absurdism, (bright red blood, garish costumes, etc), and grimy brutality. There is no profound meaning here, but for those who want to revel in a misogynistic serial killer meeting his ghastly end in a prolonged breakdown, this has you covered.
(1974)
Dir - Brian De Palma
No one would accuse Brian De Palma of being a restrained filmmaker and one could make the claim that his ridiculous rock musical/horror hybrid Phantom of the Paradise showcases his unhinged aesthetic most of all. Everything from the performances, to the script, set design, and frantic presentation seems like De Palma was intentionally trying to make a cult movie, which is what gives this such a wacky charm. The simplest hook for the uninitiated is to imagine what The Phantom of the Opera would look like if it was both Ken Russell's Tommy and Jim Sharman's The Rocky Horror Picture Show all at the exact same time. Songwriter Paul Williams not only plays the scheming villain Swan, yet he also penned the schmaltzy batch of songs and provided the singing voice for William Finley's doomed title character. Certainly a mess yet in all of the right ways, it is a bonkers endeavor for midnight movie fans.
(2014)
Dir - Kevin Smith
Depending on who you ask, Kevin Smith's batshit crazy Tusk is either a brilliant and gleefully absurd bask in body horror or an unwatchable travesty. The film's mere existence is a story in itself. Conceived of in real time, (and on copious amounts of weed), during one of his Smodcast episodes where Smith and co-host Scott Mosier discussed an, (eventually proven), hoax Gumtree add from British prankseter Christ Parkinson, the ever goofy filmmaker's fans made their voices heard as far as turning it into an honest to god movie. The result delivers on its promise and provides some of the most uncomfortable and clashing emotions that cinema can produce as the tonal issues are indeed enormous. Being a Smith film let alone one that is impossible to take seriously by its very conception, he cannot help but to throw in plenty of wordy humor, though hilarity also comes from the insane premise itself. That said, it is still a disturbing movie that plays things alarmingly sincere half of the time. Throw in a near-swan song performance from Michael Parks that is fiendishly glorious and the movie definitely leaves an impression.
Dir - Kevin Smith
Depending on who you ask, Kevin Smith's batshit crazy Tusk is either a brilliant and gleefully absurd bask in body horror or an unwatchable travesty. The film's mere existence is a story in itself. Conceived of in real time, (and on copious amounts of weed), during one of his Smodcast episodes where Smith and co-host Scott Mosier discussed an, (eventually proven), hoax Gumtree add from British prankseter Christ Parkinson, the ever goofy filmmaker's fans made their voices heard as far as turning it into an honest to god movie. The result delivers on its promise and provides some of the most uncomfortable and clashing emotions that cinema can produce as the tonal issues are indeed enormous. Being a Smith film let alone one that is impossible to take seriously by its very conception, he cannot help but to throw in plenty of wordy humor, though hilarity also comes from the insane premise itself. That said, it is still a disturbing movie that plays things alarmingly sincere half of the time. Throw in a near-swan song performance from Michael Parks that is fiendishly glorious and the movie definitely leaves an impression.
(1975)
Dir - Kazuhiko Yamaguchi
A pinku-eigas bit of exploitation that delivers a boatload of brutality, A Haunted Turkish Bathhouse is not for the faint of heart and is one of the more outrageous horror films that Japan produced during the 1970s. As one could surmise by the title, it is set in a location where naked ladies soap up horny rich dudes who make ridiculous faces while wacky music plays in the background. This clashes wildly with rape and torture that is inflicted on several women by the hands comically odious people who are in a position of power. It is far from a breezy watch in this respect, but the story inches its way to a supernaturally-charged climax where a kaibyō entity possesses one of the wronged women and the color scheme goes full Mario Bava while comeuppance is inflicted in a hilariously over-the-top manner.
(1973)
Dir - Juan López Moctezuma
Right out of the gate for his debut, Juan López Moctezuma delivered the head-scratching and fittingly absurd The Mansion of Madness. A combination of Edgar Allan Poe's "The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether", Aleister Crowley mysticism, Teruo Ishii's Horrors of Malformed Men, and slapstick high-jinks, the film presents a near endless barrage of "lunatics running the asylum" set pieces. As a Dr. Moreau on hallucinogens stand-in, Claudio Brook incessantly pontificates as he gives a tour of his clearly unsettling and vast sanatorium where patients perform occult ceremonies, build inventions that never work, hide-out in smoke stacks while making animal noises, dress up as revolutionary soldiers to stand guard and/or rape people, sloth around in filth, or pretend to be chickens. The horror elements come from the bouts of sadism and bizarre nature of the production, though the movie frequently detours with cartoon music and is far more wacky than scary.
(2020)
Dir - David Bruckner
The most accomplished full-length to date from the genre team of director David Bruckner and screenwriters Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski, The Night House boasts an exceptional performance from Rebecca Hall which manages to bypass some supernatural ideas that are not fully-fleshed out. A tweak on the age old haunted house yarn, (particularly one where a woman questions her sanity after experiencing numerous waking nightmares), it grounds the proceedings with Hall's recent widow desperately trying to come to term's with her husband's sudden suicide. Doing everything that anyone in her position would do and garnishing nothing but sympathy from the audience, Hall portrays such a trauma-stricken character with an array of authentic emotions and never once crosses over into the melodramatic, even as the otherworldly elements stack up on top of each other by raising more questions than providing answers. Still, such toying with voodoo, alternate dimensions, and malevolent presences stay rooted to a harrowing processing of grief, and the presentation is refreshingly sincere.
(1974)
Dir - Brian Clemens
This far into the the game, Hammer Films made their most significant tweak to their well established undead mythos with Captain Kronos - Vampire Hunter. Meant to be the first in another franchise for the production company, Hammer began suffering from financial difficulties following its release and thus, no more Kronos entries were ever made. As a stand alone work then, it is an amusing and fun hybrid of swashbuckling Gothic horror with numerous and inventive vampire rule changes. Here, they seem impervious to sunlight, drain youthful victims of their life essence by rendering them withered and old, and there are numerous means of disposing of them depending on the particular fiend. This of course then allows writer/director Brian Clemens to end the movie with a sword fight instead of yet another trek down cobweb-ridden catacombs to drive a stake through a sleeping vampire's heart. Also, Caroline Munro is here and that is always a good thing.
(2018)
Dir - Michael Laicini/David Amito
An ambitious, low-budget, and unique blending of throwback horror and mockumentary, Antrum from the writer/director duo of Michael Laicini and David Amito presents some familiar elements in a novel and unsettling manner. Ignoring the fact that the movie-within-a-movie fails to properly capture the visual aesthetic and presentation of 1970s independent films as it relies too much on contemporary cinematic tactics, it still creates a persistent amount of Dante-inspired, psychological dread that is punctuated by subliminal freakiness and a disturbing, ambiguous detour involving backwoods cannibals. The bookending faux-documentary segments are interesting in establishing the premise even if they create none of the chilling atmosphere that the rest of the movie delivers, but with all of the pieces in place, it certainly goes for something singular in the genre and is all the more exciting because of it.
(1971)
Dir - Michio Yamamoto
The second of three 70s Toho vampire films from director Michio Yamatamoto, Lake of Dracula answers the question of what a Hammer horror movie would look like if it was Japanese. Many of the narrative tropes are present in such films; victims are drained of blood, they rise again as the undead later, a poor sap becomes a not-fully-vampiric servant to the main baddie, stakes through the heart, no reflections in mirrors, etc. There is even some giallo-tinged influence as Midori Fujita's character suffers mild amnesia and has to go back to the creepy abode that has plagued her nightmares ever since. Yamamoto seems to have a fondness for the genre-friendly material as there are some wonderfully creepy shots, even if Shin Kishida is not the most memorable cinematic Dracula stand-in. Still, for fun Western-styled spookiness from the complete opposite end of the planet, this is plenty appealing.
(1989)
Dir - Steve Minder
The fun, "if The Terminator had sorcery", B-movie Warlock from genre director Steve Minder and screenwriter/future filmmaker David Twohy was one of the more successful genre mash-ups around the turn of the 1990s. Part fantasy, action, comedy, and horror with some fish-out-of water time traveling elements thrown in for good measure, it has a goofy charm that is not meant to be taken seriously. Proper English actor Julian Sands was cast against type as the diabolical son of Satan title character while Richard E. Grant was only two years on from his debut in the much lauded Withnail and I. Many of the special effects are dated, but this is hardly detrimental as the entire presentation adheres to a well-maintained level of macabre camp.
(2015)
Dir - Agnieszka Smoczyńska
Out of every interpretation of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Little Mermaid", filmmaker Agnieszka Smoczyńska's directorial debut The Lure is the only one to be a New Wave horror musical set in the 1980's Polish club scene. Mermaids are hardly the go-to folklore device for a movie monster and though Marta Mazurek and Michalina Olszańska's aquatic-tailed "teenage" sisters do sprout fangs and feast on their victim's organs, they primarily serve as a stand-in for a sort of coming-of-age loss of innocence. Both Smoczyńska and screenwriter Robert Bolesto were influenced by childhood nightclub memories where the fairy tale characters here present a fascinating and somewhat exploited oddity for those around them, all of which is heightened by the surreal and engaging tone.
(1970)
Dir - Dan Curtis
Stepping behind the lens for the first time in a feature-length capacity, Dark Shadows creator Dan Curits delivered the first of two film accompaniments with House of Dark Shadows. Utilizing a minimized version of the initial Barnabas Collins arc which is merely a slight variation of plot points and tropes found in Dracula and its many adaptations, the streamlined narrative eliminates the broader scope and other supernatural entities from the hit soap opera which was still in production at the time. While this may give the resulting movie an air of redundancy in some respects, Curtis proves himself to be a natural in delivering spooky Gothic dread, plus the added bloodshed and professional sheen make it more cinematically compelling than its SOV, daytime counterpart. Much of the cast remains, with Jonathan Frid turning in a typical vampire that is equal parts menacing and tragic.
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