(2010)
Dir - Pang Ho-cheung
2010's Dream Home tweaks the slasher formula to such a degree that even calling it a slasher film is shortchanging it. The first movie produced by lead Hong Kong actor Josie Ho's 852 Films, it utilizes the global inflated market crisis of the time to satirically explore one woman's desperation in acquiring, (as the title would suggest), the flat of her dreams. Co-writer/director Pang Ho-cheung has a strong penchant for over the top gore and the numerous kills scenes here are all eye-wincingly nasty, yet they are also just ridiculous enough to laugh with. Besides the Falling Down-esque subject matter which serves as an interesting enough jumping off point, the non-linear structure is also refreshing. The movie bounces between multiple time lines, progressing the story in a way that nearly makes Ho's unhinged protagonist sympathetic, while the pace is still jacked-up with more and more stomach-churning, (and slicing), violence.
449. THE MAD MAGICIAN
(1954)
Dir - John Brahm
A like-minded follow-up to the previous year's House of Wax in that it was presented in 3D and was a lead starring vehicle for Vincent Price, The Mad Magician is the lesser-renowned of the two, yet still an effective bit of ghastly fun. Once again Price is playing a wronged genius of sorts who has to resort to an elaborate ruse in order to maintain his professional career, a ruse that of course involves murdering those that stand in his way. The premise is familiar yet the gag of having Price in convincing makeup to portray other characters is a Scooby-Doo styled hoot. Death by both a buzz-saw and cremation machine are macabre touches as well, plus Price makes a deranged villain that is also sympathetic, as he was always effortlessly able to do.
448. PRIKOSNOVENIYE
(1992)
Dir - Albert S. Mkrtchyan
The final directorial effort from Armenian filmmaker Albert S. Mkrtchyan, Prikosnoveniye offers up an interesting and dark spin on supernatural occurrences while remaining atmospherically sinister. In this universe, the dead souls of decent human beings go on to haunt their loved ones with stubborn malicious intent and any sort of embracing of happiness is surely punished. The narrative details are unique, yet Mkrtchyan makes effective use out of the primitive budget, applying unsettling music and stark cinematography to create a somber and ultimately heartbreaking mood. It can be seen as either a cynical critique of the communist backdrop in which it is set or just a good bit of malevolent eeriness, but it makes an impression either way.
447. THE KILLER OF DOLLS
(1975)
Dir - Miguel Madrid
The second of only three features from Miguel Madrid, The Killer of Dolls is an unusual, quasi-giallo bit of Euro-trash. As the androgynous and eccentric pretty boy killer in question, David Rocha spends the entire movie bouncing between manically laughing/screaming while running, launching into toddler-like tantrums of violence, and caressing himself while moaning in the shower. The homoerotisism is never addressed in the narrative, yet it is unmistakable on screen and Madrid's direction is part incompetent, part avant-garde. The same four pieces of music are played over and over again, numerous moments burst into intentionally off-setting montages, and there is also one of the most hilariously nonsensical musical numbers you are likely to see, which merely serves as a set up for more women to get killed while having sex. All of these things are positive attributes here though.
446. THE WITCHES
(1966)
Dir - Cyril Frankel
Scripted by prolific writer Nigel Kneale of Quatermass fame and based off of Norah Loft's novel The Devil's Own, Hammer Films' The Witches also serves as the final non-television movie appearance for Joan Fontaine. One of the rare contemporary-set films from the studio, it boasts a similar enough premise to Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man, though it is comparatively far less shocking and thought-provoking. Still, it has the usual Hammer class from top to bottom and Fontaine is effortlessly solid as an innocent and benevolent school teacher who is caught up in an entire town's conspiratorial wickedness. The movie's inevitable, occult-fueled finale is silly, but it never goes far enough into camp to derail the overall sincere tone. Also, there are enough clever and menacing plot diversions to keep it engaging.
445. ABSENTIA
(2011)
Dir - Mike Flanagan
After failing to get funding for a full-length version of one of his student movies, (which he would in turn deliver next with Oculus), Mike Flanagan Kickstarted his debut Absentia, shooting it largely in his own apartment in Glendale, California with mostly unknown actors. The results make swell use out of the budgetary restrictions and technically amateurish shortcomings. The performances are universally strong and naturalistic, Ryan David Leack's largely persistent music is understated and eerie, plus without the means to heavily rely on either practical or digital effects, Flanagan was forced to obscure such otherworldly images. His script is wisely just as ambiguous and though he utilizes cliches like characters researching news articles without the cooperation of skeptical law enforcement officials, there is no resolution to the mystery at hand. Instead, it is an unnerving and emotionally strong work that creeps out with the power of suggestion, something Flanagan would largely abandon throughout the rest of his career.
444. THE EYES OF MY MOTHER
2010's Dream Home tweaks the slasher formula to such a degree that even calling it a slasher film is shortchanging it. The first movie produced by lead Hong Kong actor Josie Ho's 852 Films, it utilizes the global inflated market crisis of the time to satirically explore one woman's desperation in acquiring, (as the title would suggest), the flat of her dreams. Co-writer/director Pang Ho-cheung has a strong penchant for over the top gore and the numerous kills scenes here are all eye-wincingly nasty, yet they are also just ridiculous enough to laugh with. Besides the Falling Down-esque subject matter which serves as an interesting enough jumping off point, the non-linear structure is also refreshing. The movie bounces between multiple time lines, progressing the story in a way that nearly makes Ho's unhinged protagonist sympathetic, while the pace is still jacked-up with more and more stomach-churning, (and slicing), violence.
(1954)
Dir - John Brahm
A like-minded follow-up to the previous year's House of Wax in that it was presented in 3D and was a lead starring vehicle for Vincent Price, The Mad Magician is the lesser-renowned of the two, yet still an effective bit of ghastly fun. Once again Price is playing a wronged genius of sorts who has to resort to an elaborate ruse in order to maintain his professional career, a ruse that of course involves murdering those that stand in his way. The premise is familiar yet the gag of having Price in convincing makeup to portray other characters is a Scooby-Doo styled hoot. Death by both a buzz-saw and cremation machine are macabre touches as well, plus Price makes a deranged villain that is also sympathetic, as he was always effortlessly able to do.
(1992)
Dir - Albert S. Mkrtchyan
The final directorial effort from Armenian filmmaker Albert S. Mkrtchyan, Prikosnoveniye offers up an interesting and dark spin on supernatural occurrences while remaining atmospherically sinister. In this universe, the dead souls of decent human beings go on to haunt their loved ones with stubborn malicious intent and any sort of embracing of happiness is surely punished. The narrative details are unique, yet Mkrtchyan makes effective use out of the primitive budget, applying unsettling music and stark cinematography to create a somber and ultimately heartbreaking mood. It can be seen as either a cynical critique of the communist backdrop in which it is set or just a good bit of malevolent eeriness, but it makes an impression either way.
(1975)
Dir - Miguel Madrid
The second of only three features from Miguel Madrid, The Killer of Dolls is an unusual, quasi-giallo bit of Euro-trash. As the androgynous and eccentric pretty boy killer in question, David Rocha spends the entire movie bouncing between manically laughing/screaming while running, launching into toddler-like tantrums of violence, and caressing himself while moaning in the shower. The homoerotisism is never addressed in the narrative, yet it is unmistakable on screen and Madrid's direction is part incompetent, part avant-garde. The same four pieces of music are played over and over again, numerous moments burst into intentionally off-setting montages, and there is also one of the most hilariously nonsensical musical numbers you are likely to see, which merely serves as a set up for more women to get killed while having sex. All of these things are positive attributes here though.
(1966)
Dir - Cyril Frankel
Scripted by prolific writer Nigel Kneale of Quatermass fame and based off of Norah Loft's novel The Devil's Own, Hammer Films' The Witches also serves as the final non-television movie appearance for Joan Fontaine. One of the rare contemporary-set films from the studio, it boasts a similar enough premise to Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man, though it is comparatively far less shocking and thought-provoking. Still, it has the usual Hammer class from top to bottom and Fontaine is effortlessly solid as an innocent and benevolent school teacher who is caught up in an entire town's conspiratorial wickedness. The movie's inevitable, occult-fueled finale is silly, but it never goes far enough into camp to derail the overall sincere tone. Also, there are enough clever and menacing plot diversions to keep it engaging.
(2011)
Dir - Mike Flanagan
After failing to get funding for a full-length version of one of his student movies, (which he would in turn deliver next with Oculus), Mike Flanagan Kickstarted his debut Absentia, shooting it largely in his own apartment in Glendale, California with mostly unknown actors. The results make swell use out of the budgetary restrictions and technically amateurish shortcomings. The performances are universally strong and naturalistic, Ryan David Leack's largely persistent music is understated and eerie, plus without the means to heavily rely on either practical or digital effects, Flanagan was forced to obscure such otherworldly images. His script is wisely just as ambiguous and though he utilizes cliches like characters researching news articles without the cooperation of skeptical law enforcement officials, there is no resolution to the mystery at hand. Instead, it is an unnerving and emotionally strong work that creeps out with the power of suggestion, something Flanagan would largely abandon throughout the rest of his career.
(2016)
Dir - Nicolas Pesce
A solid debut from filmmaker Nicolas Pesce, The Eyes of My Mother is a slow and challenging essay on childhood abandonment. Stylistically, it has an arthouse feel; told in three "chapters", shot in black and white, minimal on both dialog and music, and offering no spoon-feeding exposition. Not that any exposition is necessary though. The story is simple yet disturbing and none of the shots are wasted in enhancing the isolated mood and consistently sad tone, done so with images more than words. It comes close to torture porn at times, but Pesce cuts the camera away or shoots from a deliberately far distance as to not lose focus with exploitative unpleasantness. Still, it is a heavy work that may not be rewarding for most tastes, but those that can be willingly chilled by its bleak atmosphere will have plenty to also be darkly fascinated by.
443. BLISS
(2019)
Dir - Joe Begos
Naked, loud, metal, "fuck" laden, jacked-up on narcotics, ultra-violent, and drenched in crimson by the finale, writer/director Joe Begos' Bliss paints a feverish nightmare where unhinged excess animates the creative muse. With a handful of familiar indie horror faces on board that have sprung up in the post-mumble-core boom as well as a command performance from Dora Madison in the exhaustively troubled lead, it is a challenging work in overindulgence. Madison's character is front-to-back unlikable and the lowlifes, agents, drug dealers, and otherworldly skuzz-bags that make up her entire social circle are all manner of deplorable, presenting no one to root for along the way. Under such odds, Begos jacks-up the style in his exploration of artistic obstruction that fuels a downward spiral into soulless wickedness, while at the same time presenting a "blissful" expression of creativity that is beautiful in its murderous outcome.
442. FIRE IN THE SKY
(1993)
Dir - Robert Lieberman
Though it is based on Travis Walton's "non-fiction" novel The Walton Experience, (one of several allegedly true UFO encounters that has since been debunked as a hoax), Fire in the Sky is still memorable for containing the most disturbing alien abduction scene in any movie. Thankfully, it has more to offer than just a single skin-crawling, (and penetrating), moment. There are some unresolved character arcs, but Star Trek: The Next Generation writer Tracy Tormé's screenplay effectively deals with mob-like ostracization and paranoia following such an unbelievable event. The cast turn in sturdy performances and director Robert Lieberman painstakingly builds to the inevitable reveal where D.B. Sweeney's traumatizing intergalactic fate is shown full-tilt to the audience.
441. EMPIRE OF PASSION
(1978)
Dir - Nagisa Ōshima
Fusing his boundary-pushing and provocative subject matter with a variation of the often filmed Japanese ghost story "Yotsuya Kaidan", Nagisa Ōshima's Empire of Passion is the filmmaker's only work in the horror genre. As a follow-up to his notorious, quasi-pornographic In the Realm of the Senses, it is less explicit even if it still hinges upon two characters who become sexually infatuated with each other to the point of committing murder and then succumbing to guilt and the inevitability of getting caught. Kazuko Yoshiyuki and Tatsuya Fuji do not come off as a likeable couple, but that is because Ōshima refuses to paint them as such. Instead, they represent an extremity of short-sighted lust and obsession that is left to thrive in a poor environment where temptation overcomes all, dooming them in the process. Beautifully shot by Yoshio Miyajima, (who was also the cinematographer on Masaki Kobayashi's seminal Kwaidan), it is an intense melodrama with some haunting moments thrown in for good measure.
440. SESSION 9
(2001)
Dir - Brad Anderson
With various cliches in tow, (abandoned mental asylum, old tape recordings of inmates, plot twists, etc), and a couple of overtly-scripted monologues and unintentionally funny moments like David Caruso's famous "Hey, fuck you!" meme, Brad Anderson's Session 9 remarkably still manages to be effective. Scripted by both Anderson and actor Stephen Gevedon, (who appears on screen in a supporting role), the male-centric plot is full of tough guy dialog and posturing. Yet it is all in service to a story where guilt and insecurities inevitably lead to bizarre tragedy. Being able to shoot in the actual Danvers State Mental Hospital in Massachusetts is a godsend and Anderson takes full advantage of such a setting. There may not be much wheel-inventing going on, but this is a concrete and creepy bit of supernatural horror to be sure.
439. RAW
(2016)
Dir - Julia Ducournau
A coming-of-age story via cannibalism, Julia Ducournau's theatrical debut Raw is authentically twisted as only the subject matter deserves. Set in a veterinary school where two sisters are following in their parent's footsteps who met and graduated there decades earlier, sibling dynamics co-mingle with the anxieties forced upon young adults who are caught in the midst of hazing rituals, blossoming sexuality, and the overall anxieties faced with conformity into a new and independent lifestyle. Wisely, Ducournau never spells out the specifics which propel Garance Marillier and Ella Rumpf's sisters into their increasingly unhinged and flesh-eating urges, instead letting the disturbed chain of events unfold in a more viscerally uncomfortable manner. Whether it is some kind of hereditary ailment, rebellious outburst, or surreal metaphor for impending adulthood, everything hinges on brutal moments of vulnerability, which are expressed via a top notch cast and Ducournau's assured cinematic point of view.
438. KAIDAN
(2007)
Dir - Hideo Nakata
A solid throwback and rare period piece from director Hideo Nakata, Kaidan is an adaptation of the traditional ghost story "Shinkei Kasanegafuch" by Enchou Sanyutei and adheres much more to the 1950s and 60s period of the feudal Japan-set supernatural film. Serving as Nakata's entry in the J-Horror Theater series, there are some poor CGI effects unfortunately, yet the movie is predominately atmospheric, hauntingly scored by Kenji Kawai, and expertly performed. As is the case with most vengeful spirit tales and especially those set in such harsh historical climates, it is far from a feel good movie and serves as a tragedy of lust, selfishness, and revenge. While Nakata's scare tactics are typically modern, they still fuse well with the time-honored material.
437. FRIGHTMARE
(1974)
Dir - Pete Walker
The immediate follow-up to the same year's House of Whipcord, Frightmare finds filmmaker Pete Walker dropping the sexploitation angle while still pitting attractive younger people against the wacky elderly. Walker's go-to crazy woman Shelia Keith is back and delivers another marvelous performance as an ex-mental institution inmate who is prone to uncontrollable bouts of cannibalism. Coming off as both pathetic and sinister, there are layers to her portrayal that turn the character into more than just a one-dimensional evil nutjob. That angle is taken up by her neglected daughter whose sadistically delinquent behavior shows the results of a more untamed and tainted bloodline. While the story could have easily been played for chucks and giggles, the presentation is kept on the straight and narrow, which refreshingly allows for a much less over the top ordeal than usual from Walker.
436. EYE OF THE DEVIL
(1966)
Dir - J. Lee Thompson
Based off of the 1964 novel Day of the Arrow by Robin Estridge, Eye of the Devil is a chilling piece of work about the tragic effects of stubborn superstitious beliefs that are rooted in unchallenged tradition. Also notable as the last film by MGM to be produced in black and white during a period where the medium was exclusively switching to color, this marked the non-extra screen debut of Sharon Tate who plays half of a bewitching set of siblings along with David Hemmings; siblings that are prone to hypnotizing people and shooting doves with a bow and arrow. Deborah Kerr replaced Kim Novak once shooting began as the latter suffered an injury on set, and this is a similar role to that which Kerr undertook in Jack Clayton's seminal The Innocents whereby she tires to decipher a dark mystery while caring for two children in a sprawling abode. The location shooting is wonderfully atmospheric and the film is edited in an off-kilter manner that heightens several drawn-out scenes.
Dir - Nicolas Pesce
A solid debut from filmmaker Nicolas Pesce, The Eyes of My Mother is a slow and challenging essay on childhood abandonment. Stylistically, it has an arthouse feel; told in three "chapters", shot in black and white, minimal on both dialog and music, and offering no spoon-feeding exposition. Not that any exposition is necessary though. The story is simple yet disturbing and none of the shots are wasted in enhancing the isolated mood and consistently sad tone, done so with images more than words. It comes close to torture porn at times, but Pesce cuts the camera away or shoots from a deliberately far distance as to not lose focus with exploitative unpleasantness. Still, it is a heavy work that may not be rewarding for most tastes, but those that can be willingly chilled by its bleak atmosphere will have plenty to also be darkly fascinated by.
(2019)
Dir - Joe Begos
Naked, loud, metal, "fuck" laden, jacked-up on narcotics, ultra-violent, and drenched in crimson by the finale, writer/director Joe Begos' Bliss paints a feverish nightmare where unhinged excess animates the creative muse. With a handful of familiar indie horror faces on board that have sprung up in the post-mumble-core boom as well as a command performance from Dora Madison in the exhaustively troubled lead, it is a challenging work in overindulgence. Madison's character is front-to-back unlikable and the lowlifes, agents, drug dealers, and otherworldly skuzz-bags that make up her entire social circle are all manner of deplorable, presenting no one to root for along the way. Under such odds, Begos jacks-up the style in his exploration of artistic obstruction that fuels a downward spiral into soulless wickedness, while at the same time presenting a "blissful" expression of creativity that is beautiful in its murderous outcome.
(1993)
Dir - Robert Lieberman
Though it is based on Travis Walton's "non-fiction" novel The Walton Experience, (one of several allegedly true UFO encounters that has since been debunked as a hoax), Fire in the Sky is still memorable for containing the most disturbing alien abduction scene in any movie. Thankfully, it has more to offer than just a single skin-crawling, (and penetrating), moment. There are some unresolved character arcs, but Star Trek: The Next Generation writer Tracy Tormé's screenplay effectively deals with mob-like ostracization and paranoia following such an unbelievable event. The cast turn in sturdy performances and director Robert Lieberman painstakingly builds to the inevitable reveal where D.B. Sweeney's traumatizing intergalactic fate is shown full-tilt to the audience.
(1978)
Dir - Nagisa Ōshima
Fusing his boundary-pushing and provocative subject matter with a variation of the often filmed Japanese ghost story "Yotsuya Kaidan", Nagisa Ōshima's Empire of Passion is the filmmaker's only work in the horror genre. As a follow-up to his notorious, quasi-pornographic In the Realm of the Senses, it is less explicit even if it still hinges upon two characters who become sexually infatuated with each other to the point of committing murder and then succumbing to guilt and the inevitability of getting caught. Kazuko Yoshiyuki and Tatsuya Fuji do not come off as a likeable couple, but that is because Ōshima refuses to paint them as such. Instead, they represent an extremity of short-sighted lust and obsession that is left to thrive in a poor environment where temptation overcomes all, dooming them in the process. Beautifully shot by Yoshio Miyajima, (who was also the cinematographer on Masaki Kobayashi's seminal Kwaidan), it is an intense melodrama with some haunting moments thrown in for good measure.
(2001)
Dir - Brad Anderson
With various cliches in tow, (abandoned mental asylum, old tape recordings of inmates, plot twists, etc), and a couple of overtly-scripted monologues and unintentionally funny moments like David Caruso's famous "Hey, fuck you!" meme, Brad Anderson's Session 9 remarkably still manages to be effective. Scripted by both Anderson and actor Stephen Gevedon, (who appears on screen in a supporting role), the male-centric plot is full of tough guy dialog and posturing. Yet it is all in service to a story where guilt and insecurities inevitably lead to bizarre tragedy. Being able to shoot in the actual Danvers State Mental Hospital in Massachusetts is a godsend and Anderson takes full advantage of such a setting. There may not be much wheel-inventing going on, but this is a concrete and creepy bit of supernatural horror to be sure.
(2016)
Dir - Julia Ducournau
A coming-of-age story via cannibalism, Julia Ducournau's theatrical debut Raw is authentically twisted as only the subject matter deserves. Set in a veterinary school where two sisters are following in their parent's footsteps who met and graduated there decades earlier, sibling dynamics co-mingle with the anxieties forced upon young adults who are caught in the midst of hazing rituals, blossoming sexuality, and the overall anxieties faced with conformity into a new and independent lifestyle. Wisely, Ducournau never spells out the specifics which propel Garance Marillier and Ella Rumpf's sisters into their increasingly unhinged and flesh-eating urges, instead letting the disturbed chain of events unfold in a more viscerally uncomfortable manner. Whether it is some kind of hereditary ailment, rebellious outburst, or surreal metaphor for impending adulthood, everything hinges on brutal moments of vulnerability, which are expressed via a top notch cast and Ducournau's assured cinematic point of view.
(2007)
Dir - Hideo Nakata
A solid throwback and rare period piece from director Hideo Nakata, Kaidan is an adaptation of the traditional ghost story "Shinkei Kasanegafuch" by Enchou Sanyutei and adheres much more to the 1950s and 60s period of the feudal Japan-set supernatural film. Serving as Nakata's entry in the J-Horror Theater series, there are some poor CGI effects unfortunately, yet the movie is predominately atmospheric, hauntingly scored by Kenji Kawai, and expertly performed. As is the case with most vengeful spirit tales and especially those set in such harsh historical climates, it is far from a feel good movie and serves as a tragedy of lust, selfishness, and revenge. While Nakata's scare tactics are typically modern, they still fuse well with the time-honored material.
(1974)
Dir - Pete Walker
The immediate follow-up to the same year's House of Whipcord, Frightmare finds filmmaker Pete Walker dropping the sexploitation angle while still pitting attractive younger people against the wacky elderly. Walker's go-to crazy woman Shelia Keith is back and delivers another marvelous performance as an ex-mental institution inmate who is prone to uncontrollable bouts of cannibalism. Coming off as both pathetic and sinister, there are layers to her portrayal that turn the character into more than just a one-dimensional evil nutjob. That angle is taken up by her neglected daughter whose sadistically delinquent behavior shows the results of a more untamed and tainted bloodline. While the story could have easily been played for chucks and giggles, the presentation is kept on the straight and narrow, which refreshingly allows for a much less over the top ordeal than usual from Walker.
(1966)
Dir - J. Lee Thompson
Based off of the 1964 novel Day of the Arrow by Robin Estridge, Eye of the Devil is a chilling piece of work about the tragic effects of stubborn superstitious beliefs that are rooted in unchallenged tradition. Also notable as the last film by MGM to be produced in black and white during a period where the medium was exclusively switching to color, this marked the non-extra screen debut of Sharon Tate who plays half of a bewitching set of siblings along with David Hemmings; siblings that are prone to hypnotizing people and shooting doves with a bow and arrow. Deborah Kerr replaced Kim Novak once shooting began as the latter suffered an injury on set, and this is a similar role to that which Kerr undertook in Jack Clayton's seminal The Innocents whereby she tires to decipher a dark mystery while caring for two children in a sprawling abode. The location shooting is wonderfully atmospheric and the film is edited in an off-kilter manner that heightens several drawn-out scenes.
(2022)
Dir - Bartosz M. Kowalski
Formulaic to a point, Polish filmmaker Bartosz M. Kowalski's Hellhole pulls off a nifty trick with its frequented end of days components. Set in 1987 at one of the most foreboding sanatoriums that may as well be a haunted Halloween house attraction, it features shady monks doing shady shit like staging exorcisms and forcing everyone to eat putrid meat that goes down as easily on the stomach as one would expect. The gross-out factor is not limited to the cuisine though since there is also plenty of dark red blood-spewing gore. By the time that it gets to its would-be unholy climax, we still have twenty minutes left in the running time, which allows for Kowalski and co-screenwriter Mirella Zaradkiewicz to stage an inventive and blasphemous finale that will leave genre fans both applauding and wanting more.
(2006)
Dir - James Gunn
Jame's Gunn's first post-Troma directorial debut Slither is a nasty and hilarious homage to the ole "alien menace taking over a small, backwoods town" premise, except with more profanity and goo. Benefited by a recognizable cast who are all fully committed to the slimy, bug-infested fun, (Nathan Fillion, Elizabeth Banks, Jenna Fischer, and especially Michael Rooker stealing the show as a sexually frustrated husband who goes full-on Society abomination by film's end), its R-rated appeal is justified. As far as the special effects go, the CGI is nothing to write home about, but the practical ones are grotesque and wonderful. Gunn never lets things get frightening, but as he is clearly and primarily going for squeamish chuckles, (all the while paying tribute to 50s and 60s drive-in monster movies), it gets the icky job done.
(1923)
Dir - Wallace Worsley
A star-making film for Lon Chaney, Universal's huge budgeted The Hunchback of Notre Dame was one of the studio's more spectacle-laden features for the era. Chaney had already established himself as the industry's most chameleon like performer, yet this was the movie that brought him extraordinary success as a lead actor. His grotesque appearance, limber athleticism, and both child like innocence and animal ferocity as the deformed bell ringer Quasimodo remains his most famous screen transformation along with his turn in The Phantom of the Opera two years later. Both of these would of course have a lingering impact on movie monster makeup and deformed performances, plus the grandiose production is pure Hollywood spectacle.
(2020)
Dir - Oz Perkins
After an inconsistent debut and one utterly terrible follow-up, (both of which were in the horror genre), filmmaker Oz Perkins hones his sinister craft with the ultra-moody and stylistic Grimm fairy tale adaptation Gretel & Hansel. Oozing along with a grimy, Autumn-hued aesthetic, the siblings of the title are several years apart from each other, as the coming-of-age story sticks to the point of view of Gretel who is in the vicinity of womanhood when she and her younger brother inadvertently venture, (out of desperation), into the clutches of Alice Krige's cartoonishly creepy witch. Both the scenario and tone are relentlessly bleak, plus Perkins indulges in nightmarish set pieces that are absurd, bizarre, and unsettling in their otherworldly gloom,. All of this makes for a finished product that is more bold than narratively digestible, but delightful either way.
(1990)
Dir - Tom Savini
Though obviously less culturally significant than the original, the 1990 remake of Night of the Living Dead still manages to be solid in its own right. A big reason for this is the personnel involved. George A. Romero helped put the movie into production as a means of gaining the rights back to his infamously untrademarked initial property and in doing so, he asked longtime collaborator Tom Savini to take his first crack behind the lens. While Savini has gone on record as saying how stressful the making was, he and Romero's vision, (the later of whom penned the screenplay as well), offers a different enough slant while remaining largely faithful. The gore and profanity levels are understandably upped and gone are the civil rights/Vietnam War parallels, but the character of Barbra is significantly changed from a traumatized victim to a self-reliant final girl that is typical of the modern era. Tony Todd also makes a fine Ben in his first significant role out of many in the genre.
(1983)
Dir - David Cronenberg
The same year that John Carpenter adapted Stephen King's killer car story Christine for the big screen, David Cronenberg took on the author's premonition thriller The Dead Zone, which doubles as his first full-length that he did not pen the screenplay for. Though it is not as much of an auteur work for Cronenberg in this sense, it instead shows that he can elevate another's material with chilling results. The lead performance by Christopher Walken certainly helps, who plays a tortured man with the "gift" of second sight, one that leads him to a complicated existence to say the least. Martin Sheen makes a good and slimy politician as well, and though Walken performances is the most scene-stealing, Cronenberg's tight and devastating presentation makes this another in a string of his exemplary works during the 1980s.
(1977)
Dir - Clive Donner
While it failed to be picked up as a proper series, the television pilot-turned-theatrical film Spectre delivers some proper occult eeriness. One of several such projects from a post-Start Trek Gene Roddenberry, (who produced and co-wrote the screenplay), it fuses a Sherlock/Watson dynamic between the two leads with Asmodeus-worshiping shenanigans thrown in. Veteran TV actors Robert Culp and Gig Young have solid enough chemistry as the occult expert and skeptic; a similar relationship to which would become prominent in The X Files much later. John Hurt also appears and gets to unleash his seldom seen fiendish side during the flammable, druid crypt finale where wailing cultists in black and red robes, a human sacrifice, sacred amulets, and silly monster-morphing possessions all come out to play.
(1932)
Dir - Robert Florey
A year before King Kong ended with a giant ape on top of a building while holding onto a beautiful woman, Murders in the Rue Morgue also utilizes such a finish, be it on a much smaller scale. Universal did three "adaptation in title only" Edgar Alla Poe films, with Béla Lugosi taking on a lead role in each of them. This also marks the first of many, many times that he portrayed a crazed scientist and also the first but not the last time that he shared the screen with a primate. The film is certainly flawed in a number of goofy areas such as Erik the ape clearly being a chimpanzee in close up and a man in a monkey suite that looks nothing like a chimpanzee everywhere else. Plus besides Lugosi who is wonderfully creepy and memorable, the rest of the cast is expendable and the movie stalls with dated melodrama and comic relief. Robert Florey's direction is solid though and he and famed cinematographer Karl W. Freund make wonderful use out of fog, shadows, and German Expressionist-inspired camera angles.
(2017)
Dir - Rainer Sarnet
A humorous and dark fairy tale horror film that seems alien in its eccentricities, Estonian writer/director Rainer Sarnet's November casts a unique spell with its impoverished setting and otherworldly atmosphere. Set at some point in 19th century Estonia, a village is besieged by commonplace supernatural forces and magic where its wretchedly poor inhabitants raise soul-possessed inanimate objects to do their bidding, turn into werewolves sometimes, conduct spells, thwart the black death by putting pants over their heads, and make deals with the Devil who is portrayed as an insane asylum version of Santa Claus. There are various other mystical details scattered about and Sarnet maintains a funny enough tone where just basking in this universe's strangeness can carry things through. There is a doomed and unrequited love triangle at the story's center, but this is mostly just a visually evocative and surreal journey through peasant superstitions made palpable.
(1961)
Dir - Mario Bava
Taking a stab at the type of tradition Hercules yarn that Italy had been cinematically producing since 1957, Mario Bava's Hercules in the Haunted World is a typically colorful and macabre entry for its director and a lone one in the series to feature prominent horror elements. Scoring Christopher Lee as the villainous King Lico and English bodybuilder Reg Park once again as the title character, (though Lee's iconic voice is sadly dubbed by another actor in the American release), the crammed and silly story throws a number of desperate set pieces together. Thankfully though, such moments are visually wonderful and plenty of screen time is set in Hades as well as a ghoulishly decorated crypt with stone monsters, vampires, and zombies getting tossed around like beanbags by Park's gigantically oiled-up muscles.
(1979)
Dir - Giulio Paradisi
A singular melding of various influences, The Visitor is compelling in its borderline audaciousness. Based on a story by Egyptian-born Italian producer Ovidio G. Assonitis, directed by the seldom talked about Giulio Paradisi, yet containing everyone from Glen Ford, Shelley Winters, Franco Nero, and Lance Henrickson to filmmakers John Ford and Sam Peckinpah, it has traces of The Bad Seed, The Birds, The Omen, and The Exorcist, except all through a science fiction lens that is also influenced by Dune and Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It has the feel of an Italian knock-off if not for the recognizable American cast and noticeably sufficient production values. Hardly frightening, but its familiar attributes jive with the head-scratching bizarreness.
(1968)
Dir - Nobu Nakagawa
Another one of Nobu Nakagawa's fable-tinged supernatural horror works was Snake Woman's Curse. Set in feudal Japan and dealing with that era's disproportionate class system, it sets a cold land owner and his crop of occasionally even more heartless underlings against a powerless farmer's family. As the latter continuously falls victim to a justice-less lifestyle at their master's hands, ghostly manifestations run amok in the form of snakes and even snake-skinned human hallucinations. The subject matter is often heavy, especially for the female characters who are endlessly mistreated, though this makes the comeuppance suffered by their wrong-doers more fitting and ghoulishly enjoyable. As usual, Nakagawa stages a large amount of spooky scenes, with the ending being particularly memorable, showing a final haunting shot which signifies that the ghost's work is truly done.
(1911)
Dir -Francesco Bertolini/Adolfo Padovan/Giuseppe De Liguoro
The first full-length Italian film ever produced and one of the oldest surviving in the fantasy/horror genre, L'Inferno is also historically fascinating for cinematically representing Gustave Doré's famous engravings in the 1857 edition of Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy. Adapting "Inferno", (the first part of the epic poem), the movie took over three years to finish and features numerous photographic tricks, mild nudity and gore, as well as demon and creature costumes and makeup. While most of the effects are understandably dated by contemporary standards and it is all done in stagnant one-shot edits as this was before the advent of closeups or more engaging editing techniques, it still presents an endless stream of striking and hellish visuals. As Dante and his poet guide Virgil descend the various layers of the underworld, writhing sinners in all types of torment are shown, culminating in a giant and six-winded Lucifer munching on history's most notorious traitors.
(2012)
Dir - Adrián García Bogliano
Writer/director Adrián García Bogliano brings back the zoom with a vengeance in the evil and fun Here Comes the Devil. Though the digital camera look gives it an off-putting amateur quality at times, Bogliano and cinematographer Ernesto Herrera still mange to pull off some eerie and steamy visuals. Stylistically, the movie rides a thin line of sincerity and testosterone-ridden silliness, with lots of sex, Satan, and some extreme metal thrown in for good measure. The performances are committed though, particularly Mexican singer Laura Caro in her film debut, who is excellent as an increasingly concerned mother with increasingly disturbing kids. This balance of tones would seem odd and even problematic under usual circumstances, but the singular presentation remains engaging and creepy. Bogliano does not concern himself with any supernatural details as he instead just trusts his cinematic ambitions, letting the unwholesome wickedness play out on its own curious terms.
(1986)
Dir - Mike Marvin
Largely boasting a hard rock soundtrack and featuring a young and dashing Charlie Sheen in the same year that he also appeared in Platoon and Ferris Beuller's Day Off, writer/director Mike Marvin's The Wraith is a dated yet hip, supernatural, street-racer revenge thriller. The story is rudimentary yet efficiently so. As there is never any mystery as to what is exactly going on, (nor how the character's fates are going to end up), it allows for Marvin to keep the pace up with a series of hyper fast car chases as Nick Cassavete and his gang of scumbag hoodlums get their much due comeuppance. It is kind of like The Crow if it was set on sunny desert roads instead of perpetually raining, Gothic urban architecture.
(1973)
Dir - Sergio Martino
One of several textbook giallos from filmmaker Sergio Martino, Torso is notable for the director's usual gripping style, particularly in its third act. Co-written by prolific genre screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi, it checks off most boxes; a clandestine black-gloved killer, masochism, bright red blood splatter, a romantic musical score, copious amounts of nudity, red herrings, and a foreseeable final girl. The grand reveal of who the murderer is also fits the formula as once again it is a sexual deviant with a traumatic childhood experience that made him perpetually cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. As generic as it all technically is and even though Martino comparatively lacked the visual extravagance of giallo's golden boy Dario Argento, his work here keeps things moving at a fluid pace. There are a few surprises along the way as well, culminating in the last thirty minutes which is one of the most elongated and gradually intense cat and mouse sequences in any such movie.
419. THE APPOINTMENT
(1982)
Dir - Lindsey C. Vickers
Originally put into production as a television pilot that was never broadcast as such, The Appointment ultimately exists as its own stand-alone feature and is one that draws out its dread to absurd lengths. Padded in some respects, it opens with a frightening depiction of a schoolgirl's disappearance, (which is never explained and arguably irrelevant as to what follows), but things quickly settle into a rudimentary scenario where an unassuming family man has to disappoint his coddled daughter that he will not make her violin recital due to work obligations. Everything that follows is merely one comically long suspense sequence that is played to little dialog, little music, and follows an ambiguous trajectory where perhaps supernatural forces are at work to make sure our protagonist "keeps his appointment" with tragedy.
418. TALK TO ME
(2022)
Dir - Danny Philippou/Michael Philippou
Though imprecise in its plotting and loose supernatural logic, the unlikely debut from YouTubers Danny and Michael Philippou in Talk to Me still ends up being a harrowing look into grieving young minds who can be manipulated by otherworldly forces. In this respect, the movie does what the horror genre can often do right, taking relatable real world trauma and filtering it through a lens of the unexplained. Here, it is a contemporary tweak on the spooky seance scenario where people throw "talking to the dead" parties for funnsies, filming the ensuing possession and mayhem on their phones and never questioning the ramifications of their actions. All of the performances are excellent, but Sophie Wilde delivers a tour de force one as the likeable protagonist who makes unfortunate decisions due to a devastating tragedy that she cannot accept.
417. OVER YOUR DEAD BODY
(2014)
Dir - Takashi Miike
So many versions of the "Yotsuya Kaidan" story have been adapted in various mediums over many years, but Takashi Miike's take on it in Over Your Dead Body is that of a play-within-a-movie. The prolific filmmaker takes as subdued of an approach to the material as he ever has in any of his works, letting this nebulous tale of good ole fashioned jealousy play out like a fever dream stuck in slow motion. There is hardly any incidental music, but when it does arrive, the film has an eerie ambience that fits the period setting of the source material, which is being performed over expansive and excellently detailed sets as its actors seem to gradually get possessed by the story's otherworldly elements. Throwing in some uncomfortable set pieces and absurd amounts of blood only furthers the surreal atmosphere, but Miike never lets up on that ethereal and lumbering tone.
Dir - Sergio Martino
One of several textbook giallos from filmmaker Sergio Martino, Torso is notable for the director's usual gripping style, particularly in its third act. Co-written by prolific genre screenwriter Ernesto Gastaldi, it checks off most boxes; a clandestine black-gloved killer, masochism, bright red blood splatter, a romantic musical score, copious amounts of nudity, red herrings, and a foreseeable final girl. The grand reveal of who the murderer is also fits the formula as once again it is a sexual deviant with a traumatic childhood experience that made him perpetually cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. As generic as it all technically is and even though Martino comparatively lacked the visual extravagance of giallo's golden boy Dario Argento, his work here keeps things moving at a fluid pace. There are a few surprises along the way as well, culminating in the last thirty minutes which is one of the most elongated and gradually intense cat and mouse sequences in any such movie.
(1982)
Dir - Lindsey C. Vickers
Originally put into production as a television pilot that was never broadcast as such, The Appointment ultimately exists as its own stand-alone feature and is one that draws out its dread to absurd lengths. Padded in some respects, it opens with a frightening depiction of a schoolgirl's disappearance, (which is never explained and arguably irrelevant as to what follows), but things quickly settle into a rudimentary scenario where an unassuming family man has to disappoint his coddled daughter that he will not make her violin recital due to work obligations. Everything that follows is merely one comically long suspense sequence that is played to little dialog, little music, and follows an ambiguous trajectory where perhaps supernatural forces are at work to make sure our protagonist "keeps his appointment" with tragedy.
(2022)
Dir - Danny Philippou/Michael Philippou
Though imprecise in its plotting and loose supernatural logic, the unlikely debut from YouTubers Danny and Michael Philippou in Talk to Me still ends up being a harrowing look into grieving young minds who can be manipulated by otherworldly forces. In this respect, the movie does what the horror genre can often do right, taking relatable real world trauma and filtering it through a lens of the unexplained. Here, it is a contemporary tweak on the spooky seance scenario where people throw "talking to the dead" parties for funnsies, filming the ensuing possession and mayhem on their phones and never questioning the ramifications of their actions. All of the performances are excellent, but Sophie Wilde delivers a tour de force one as the likeable protagonist who makes unfortunate decisions due to a devastating tragedy that she cannot accept.
(2014)
Dir - Takashi Miike
So many versions of the "Yotsuya Kaidan" story have been adapted in various mediums over many years, but Takashi Miike's take on it in Over Your Dead Body is that of a play-within-a-movie. The prolific filmmaker takes as subdued of an approach to the material as he ever has in any of his works, letting this nebulous tale of good ole fashioned jealousy play out like a fever dream stuck in slow motion. There is hardly any incidental music, but when it does arrive, the film has an eerie ambience that fits the period setting of the source material, which is being performed over expansive and excellently detailed sets as its actors seem to gradually get possessed by the story's otherworldly elements. Throwing in some uncomfortable set pieces and absurd amounts of blood only furthers the surreal atmosphere, but Miike never lets up on that ethereal and lumbering tone.
(1964)
Dir - William Castle
The second collaboration between Psycho writer Robert Bloch and filmmaker William Castle, The Night Walker is void of the director's usual theatrical gimmicks while still being a typically ghoulish thriller with a convoluted plot. The cast reunites former married couple Robert Taylor and Barbara Stanwyck, the latter in her final film performance before settling into two more decades in television. In typical Castle fashion, the opening scene directly addresses the audience and plays like a fun haunted house via psychological horror gag, then everything else that follows adheres to the Scooby-Doo brand of red herring spookiness. The tone is plenty creepy and there are enough weird details, (including a wedding ceremony on drugs), to keep one engaged, even as things become more implausibly silly in the best possible way.
(1975)
Dir - Amando de Ossorio
One of the Euro-horror knock-offs of The Exorcist that avoided a lawsuit, Demon Witch Child stems from the mind of Spanish horror proprietor Amando de Ossorio. The 1970s were de Ossorio's busiest decade and though his Blind Dead movies have had the most lasting influence and legacy on the genre, his take on a possessed teenage girl with a filthy mouth is one that benefits from an agreeable pace and plenty of outrageous details. Amazingly, the film manages to be both unsettling and hilarious in equal measures, with Marián Salgado, (who coincidentally dubbed Linda Blair in the Spanish print of The Exorcist), spewing outrageous dialog in various voices and wearing garish make-up to resemble the old evil crone that has infiltrated her body. A haunting musical score, baby murdering, robed Satan worshipers, plus a priest and his now-prostitute ex-girlfriend are fun editions as well.
(1928)
Dir - Jean Epstein
Released the same year as the American short version from James Sibley Watson and Melville Webber, French director Jean Epstein's adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher is one of the most ethereal works in silent horror. Two other renowned filmmakers were involved, (it was co-written by Luis Buñuel and features a brief appearance by Abel Gance as a bar costumer), and the relationship between Roderick Usher and his sister Madeline is changed from brother and sister to husband and wife. Stylistically though, it has a widely sought-after atmosphere with gliding camera work, intimate closeups, large and sparsely decorated sets, plus persistent winds blowing through the foreboding title mansion. In the lead, Jean Debucourt has a sad, wide-eyed gaze of aloofness as if his own madness has consumed him ages before the story even starts and Abel's then wife Marguerite Gance likewise seems like she has been a statuesque ghost for just as long.
(1974)
Dir - Chih-Hung Kuei
Sometimes interesting things happen to well-established horror tropes when they get reinterpreted through translation and the Shaw Brothers' Ghost Eyes features the only cinematic vampire that does not suck blood, yet instead rapes women by hypnotizing one of them through contact lenses that she cannot take off. The second work in the genre from director Chih-Hung Kuei, it is heavy on atmosphere, utilizing eerie color schemes, music, and cinematography in place of dopey comic relief, overt gore, or any actual scenes of Wei Szu fornicating with unwilling ladies. This makes it more spooky than exploitative and even with some repetitive moments and unintentionally silly character behavior, its inventiveness and low-key atmosphere wins out.
(1973)
Dir - Juan Luis Buñuel
The full-length debut from Luis Buñuel's son Juan, Au rendez-vous de la mort joyeuse is a stark, arthouse creepfest that ambiguously presents blossoming womanhood in a supernatural framework. Filmed almost exclusively at a large isolated country house with no dramatic music and minimal, primitive visual effects, it has a naturalistic feel at first. Things become increasingly strange and unsettling though and the story never attempts to properly explain the poltergeist activity that seems to spring up whenever the protagonist's adolescent daughter Yasmine Dahm, (who always seems either mildly amused or calmly unaffected), is around. It is low-key in the best possible sense, making its few chilling moments that much more effective and challenging to contemplate.
(1960)
Dir - William Castle
A semi-classic from gimmick maestro William Castle, 13 Ghosts is silly, spooky, and harmless fun. For his follow-up to the similarly lighthearted The Tingler, Castle devised Illusion-O viewers; a pair of eye-ware that would reveal "hidden" specters on the screen in different colors. Like all of Castle's other hokey contraptions to put butts in the seats, it serves zero purpose decades later, yet thankfully the movie itself is still a worthwhile hoot. Otherworldly wailing sound effects, scary music, and cheap Halloween decoration visuals have a wonderfully dated appeal to them, plus the story where a family moves into a haunted abode, (and just stays there instead of packing up and leaving like any sensible people would do), further helped established a long-standing and rightfully ridiculed horror trope.
(1999)
Dir - M. Knight Shyamalan
One of the biggest horror movies of the 1990s and a debut that offered up more promise than consistently good results from writer/director M. Knight Shyamalan, The Sixth Sense has gone down in the record books for having the twist ending to end all twist endings. Though much of the zeitgeist focus has always been on the "I see dead people" rug-pull, the film thankfully holds up for a number of other reasons. Shyamalan stages some spooky moments which have been endlessly copied still to this day, the three leads in Bruce Willis, Toni Collette, and an eleven year old Haley Joel Osment are excellent, and the story deals profoundly with universally traumatic elements such as loss, acceptance, and grief. User friendly, gimmicky, and overly sentimental to varying degrees maybe, but for a mainstream genre film, it is still expertly done.
(2022)
Dir - Goran Stolevski
This folk horror arthouse debut from filmmaker Goran Stolevski channels the poetic shtick of Terrence Malick as a dark fairy tale that explores the nature of identity, gender, adversity, perseverance, and societal conformity. Set in 19th century Macedonia where a shape-shifting witch roams freely throughout the countryside, You Won't Be Alone has a palpable and grimy aesthetic that is rooted in hardship. This is not just because Anamaria Marinca's Old Maid Maria is terrifying in her cold indifference to a world that condemned her, but because that world is entrenched in its ways where women are meant to suffer at the hands of men who are expected to subjugate them. As our main protagonist wonders throughout her various male and female incarnations from a stilted upbringing, her innocence is heartbreaking yet also hauntingly rewarding after what she overcomes.
(1977)
Dir - Michael Winner
More harmless and goofy than other majorly released occult films from the 1970s, The Sentinel has a messy though idiosyncratic charm to it. Based on the novel of the same name by Jeffrey Konvitz, there is a hefty supporting cast of both recognizable up and comers and veterans, including but not limited to Burgess Meredith, Ava Gardner, John Carradine, Eli Wallach, Christopher Walken, Beverey D'Angelo, Tom Berringer, Chris Sarandon, and Jeff Goldblum. While the movie is clearly going for a more sinister tone than the material lets on and bares unmistakable narrative similarities to Rosemary's Baby amongst others, director Michael Winner manages to pull off some strange if ultimately not that frightening set pieces that nevertheless still linger after the credits roll.
(2004)
Dir - Takashi Shimizu
Filmed in between his initial Japanese version of Ju On: The Grudge 2 and the American remake The Grudge, Takashi Shimizu's Marebito is a wonderfully eerie, quasi-found footage work with an incessantly low-key tone. The grainy and ill-defined digital film presentation works wonderfully in that it frustrates the viewer to an extent as to what they may or may not be looking at, further emphasizing the terrifying presence that the main protagonist is searching for and eventually finds. Part vampire movie, part Lovecraft underworld nightmare, and part mental illness examination, Shimizu obscures all of the ingredients while delivering the type of atmosphere that is almost painfully creepy.
(1968)
Dir - Carlos Enrique Taboada
The first work in the horror genre from Mexican filmmaker Carlos Enrique Taboada, Hasta el viento tiene miedo, (Even the Wind is Afraid), is an atmospheric "less is more" boarding house chiller. Featuring an almost exclusively female cast that are held up together in a college during a ten day break, the characters are mostly likeable even if their actions occasionally step into cruel terrain. What ultimately ends up being a standard ghost story of vengeance from beyond the grave uses the wind of the title as a menacing presence that wails away at dangerous volumes and speeds during nightly, goosebump-ridden haunts. The film is low on shocks and slow moving with its narrative, but it is an effective Gothic mood piece all the same.
(1970)
Dir - David Durston
Countless low-rent exploitation cheapies emerged in the wake of the Manson family murders and regional filmmaker David Durston's I Drink Your Blood is one of the most delightfully nasty of them. Shot in Sharon Springs, New York with a cast of unknown actors, (none of whom chew the scenery more than Bhaskar Roy Chowdhury as a cult leader with a sadistic, Satan-loving, LSD-devouring hard-on), the non-existent production values work to the movie's favor in conveying a sleazy tone that satirizes the type of conservative paranoia that was commonly hurled in the direction of the free love counter-culture movement. Garish blood-splatter, mean-spirited hedonism, and unabashed nudity all co-mingle with an outbreak of rabies that sets a small town against their ravenous "hippies from hell" invaders, with results that are hilariously shocking for their day.
(1992)
Dir - Lam Ngai Kai
For his immediate follow-up to the martial arts splatter fest Riki-Oh: The Story of Ricky, Hong Kong director Lma Ngai Kai delivered The Cat; another wild cinematic adaptation based off of Ni Kuang's Wisely Series of novel. Kuang himself appears as a dog specialist, lending Waise Lee's supernatural detective a fierce K9 that engages in a hilarious kung fu battle with the feline of the title who is actually an extraterrestrial named the General. This is only one of many outrageous set pieces included where a gigantic, fleshy, pulsating blob creature sets people on fire and causes all manner of destruction, a possessed cop arms himself with enough firepower to make Isaac Hayes from I'm Gonna Git You Sucka! proud, an alien artifact enhances the General with explody powers, and glittering star dust enables the benevolent beings to return to their home planet. Even if the story has little to latch on to, the practical special effects work is as over-the-top as they come and the second half cruises along with plenty of inventive insanity.
(2017)
Dir - Paul Urkijo Alijo
This live action retelling of the Basque folktale "The Smith and the Devil" serves as the full-length debut from filmmaker Paul Rukijo Alijo who concocted an imaginative, funny, vile, and heartfelt ode to bygone stories of pitchfork-wielding demons and soul-selling bargains gone awry. Errementari boasts fantastic production design, set in a 19th century Spain that is reeling from the devastation and desperation of the First Carlist War where the inevitable trip into the gates of the abyss in the finale sits right at home with the grimy, iron-clad, and fire-lit scenery of the real world. Kandido Uranga makes an appropriately stoic blacksmith who is alleged to be so mean that even Satan cowers in his hooves in his presence, but the film is stolen by little Uma Bracaglia as an orphan girl with balls of steel and Eneko Sagardoy as a disgraced lower demon who screams in anguish over a holy bell being rung, continuously trips on bear traps, and compulsively counts chic peas when they are thrown to the ground.
(2019)
Dir - Kimo Stamboel
A remake in name only to the 1981 Suzzanna vehicle of the same name, Rapi Films' The Queen of Black Magic is the second such updating of one of the company's previous genre offerings, following 2017's Satan's Slaves which was written and directed by Joko Anwar who likewise penned the screenplay here. Said screenplay bares zero similarities to its predecessor besides giving the title character the same name, with Anwar instead concocting his own tale of supernatural vengeance and diabolical witchcraft. Though the hefty amount of digital effects are laughably poor, the largely self-mutilating set pieces are endlessly grotesque and inventive. By the time that the film reaches its hell-unleashing conclusion, all manner of torturous ickiness is on display and director Kimo Stamboel manages to keep everything unsettling enough as to not venture into cheap scares or unintended schlock. This makes for a rare updating that is both narratively and stylistically light years away from its forebear, yet still expertly done and deserving of its throwback title.
(1963)
Dir - Freddie Francis
The first of three collaborations between Freddie Francis and Jimmy Sangster was the bizarre Hammer thriller Paranoiac. An adaptation of Josephine Tey's novel Brat Farrar, cinematographer Francis got behind the director's chair with Sangster providing the script as he had and would continue to do with a number of other notable movies for the studio. Being a Francis film, it is also expertly photographed by fellow director of photography Arthur Grant. Another Hammer regular Oliver Reed is present as well and he delivers a textbook, frantically intense performance as a sadistic and spoiled alcoholic that is several sandwiches short of a picnic to say the least. It has a few far-fetched trappings involving dubious identities and melodramatic plot points, but it is handled dead seriously by a solid cast, plus several moments are startling in their macabre strangeness.
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