Moved: The 100 Greatest Contemporary Horror Films (I've Ever Seen)

[No-Personality]

Since Ultimate Disney/DVDizzy is run by nazis, I've decided to try taking this project to Animation Revelation. Hope no one minds. I do have to warn you of something, though, there seems to be a much smaller Character Allowance here. So, I can't post the entire 8 movies in one post which I've already written up on UD. I'll probably only be able to post 4 at a time, which means a lot of double-posting.




#100. Wes Craven's New Nightmare (1994, directed by Wes Craven)

Folks who hate Scream are only too quick to point to this film as the ultimate contemporary meta-tation on the genre and high-horsed contrarian authority figures insinuating that horror damages those who watch it. People, it's All About Context. This film definitely has some pretty good meta on its' plate but almost none of it has to do with the horror genre. And Scream's primary focus was on the media, something a lot of fans haven't noticed since they only believe that film to have a one trick mind. Sadly, for those who have trouble letting go, New Nightmare has not stood up very well after all these years. The differences in cultural sensibilities between then and now is a big reason. Heather Langenkamp's often highly flawed acting is another. What this movie is really about is the idea that the production of the original Nightmare was so close-knit that the cast and crew who worked on it, despite going their separate ways, have become like family to each other. This is a rare idea and it could only be proposed with a studio who at the time had only recently become a major Hollywood player. They're big time now but they're not forgetting the people who got them there. In reality, however, the story goes a little differently. The movie features New Line Cinema president Bob Shaye telling us the reason Wes Craven didn't call them after the last film he made at New Line was that he "hadn't had any scary nightmares" (which are his driving creative force). In reality, Craven was having financial difficulties after the first film's success, had trouble getting enough work to pay his bills, and was sued by someone who claimed Nightmare was their idea as New Line launched into a series of million-dollar banking sequels, not a penny of which went into Wes's pocket. He wasn't too happy about that, though he did sign on to co-write the third film in the series. Things got so uncomfortable between Craven and New Line that they had to have a special forgive-and-forget meeting where at the end they would discuss - the possibility of - doing a seventh film. Which Wes had to convince Shaye was more about cleansing the series after sequel-itis had taken the franchise so far away from Craven's artistic vision for the characters and story. What resulted from this reunion made a lot of fans happy yet, somehow, it's never much pleased me. But you certainly can't fault the meta for that. This isn't the first film about blurring the line between the movies and reality but it does have some incredibly impressive moments (the talk show scene, the Nosferatu reference) and the hospital scenes are quite fascinating. It's not the same movie the fans remember but it has caused a few sleepless nights of its' own.

#99. I, Madman (1989, directed by Tibor Tak?cs)

A more gruesome, grisly version of your average Phantom of the Opera adaptation. But, instead of being merely a typical stalker formula, this particular incarnation mixes in elements of shadowy, 80's detective noir. Near Dark's Jenny Wright plays a bookish library worker who doesn't just crave tales of the mad, monstrous, and depraved, she literally gets inside of them, becoming the character she chooses to identify with. The book fills her apartment with strange, disturbing noises, she loses track of time, and, eventually, the thing she's reading about shows itself to her. The movie almost seems a darkly funny parable about how, though it seems like a good alternative to the trash on the characters' televisions, books are dangerous and can even get in the way of your relationship. The latter thankfully never becomes heavy-handed, in no small part due to April Fools' Day's Clayton Rohner playing yet another World's Greatest Boyfriend (he was also the object of Joyce Hyser's affection in 1985's Just One of the Guys) and again, he makes you believe he is. But the movie goes to a few laughable extremes to raise a case for the former. Not only does Wright's "imagination" get her in trouble with the police, at a crucial moment of intensity- the gun flies out of her hand and drops under an immovable mountain of books. That's not all; as she attempts to flea from the killer, another mountain of books completely block her passageway and she leaps upon them only to have them slide her back down into harm's way. One might think they were almost working against her. Anyway, unlike Alicia Silverstone thrillers (1995's True Crime) where every cop who warns her against trying to solve the mystery and reveal the killer because she's in way over her head is made to be right, anyone who holds Wright back or patronize her are proven to not only be wrong but their disbelief is what leads to the bodies piling up here, despite her repeated warnings. Books might be responsible for introducing the idea of a threat but this movie proves - in the grand tradition of A Nightmare on Elm Street - that you can't write off a cinematic witness for being bookish or mousey. They might be telling you the truth. I, Madman is one of the best horror movies you've probably never heard of. The acting and writing are solid, the special effects gnarly but applied with sophistication and power (the title's killer is also aided in his abundant creepiness by a great sense of physicality and an unforgettable voice), the sexuality mature and adult (there are touches here and there), the cinematography sumptuous and striking, and the music and sound design give you a few good jolts occasionally.

#98. Sleepy Hollow (1999, directed by Tim Burton)

In the realm of the Hollywood period-piece horror film, the 1990's was... well, it was an orgy because, even though most of them were long-winded bores which simply served to reinforce the Hollywood attitude that horror films which try to be intelligent, sophisticated, and emotionally complex can't be called horror films for fear that snobby awards committees won't give them the time of day, apparently audiences kept paying to see them (after the very Twilight-of-the-90's Interview with the Vampire, I can't imagine why). Meanwhile, this ingenious strategy may have enabled Hollywood to rope the likes of Robert De Niro, John Malkovich, Gary Oldman, Tom Cruise and so forth into doing projects most of them likely regret, because none of these films have stood the test of time - I really mean: fan devotion - like your Dawn of the Deads, Texas Chainsaw Massacres, Halloweens, etc. And that's what lasts after the exhaust of award hype has dissipated. Horror films should be made for the fans or by people who love the genre. And, after more than 15 years in the business, Tim Burton decided to make his first full-barrel horror film. A lush, extravagant (expensive) tribute to the Hammer horror of his childhood which was also Hollywood's final deathbed effort in the non-PG-13 period piece subgenre. It might not have paid off, financially, as they expected. But in terms of giving the fans something they can actually sink their teeth into, Sleepy Hollow is vastly superior to most of its' type. Visually, this is like a 10-course banquet for people looking for some style to counterbalance the late 90's when horror was beginning to have the art drained out of it. Who would expect anything less from the director of Beetlejuice? There are even some Nightmare Before Christmas touches that bleed into the fold (noteworthy since he only produced that film). The cast, nearly all of which are strangers to horror, treat the material with proper respect and most of them don't seem to bat an eye at the eventual prospect of having their characters' heads lopped off or insides come pouring out. One of the movie's flaws is that it doesn't know how to provide much inventiveness with the death scenes, given that nearly every victim is merely decapitated. After fewer than half the movie's bodycount have hit the floor, you'll be yawning at the suggestion of another Horseman attack (although, this problem is certainly solved after awhile). But the movie has yet another trick up its' sleeve to contend with this, something else the genre was in dire need of at the time: black humor. Blood flies like this were a Peter Jackson film, monsters and corpses with a lot of Raimi-esque energy leap out of meditative states or tight spots undercover to throw blood and clawed fingers at the screen, Johnny Depp tears bodies apart while shocked villagers look on in horror, and that's only the beginning. Finally, the film stages a climax that no one on Earth would have expected to work and yet... it does. How? By having the mastermind rant like a cleverly disturbed Bond villain. A brilliant and tastefully campy performance cred is much overdue to Miranda Richardson.

#97. Wolfen (1981, directed by Michael Wadleigh)

This one's tricky. It means something. It really does. I... just haven't been able to figure it out yet. Far as I can tell, it's about Native Americans who sit and watch over the white man (and by this, I mean the world of corruption they've created and everyone but this film's crew of wild-living conscientious objectors contribute to it), are able to shapeshift into wolves, and have now decided to teach them a lesson for abusing the land and the people who have to live there by launching an attack on a high-profile jet-setter's family and anyone who tries to investigate the killings. I'm really not sure it all gels. Especially since, at a point, people start dropping for no rhyme or reason whatsoever. From businessmen to homeless people, cops to environmental professors. I'd very much like to know why. But I haven't found an explanation yet. I suppose this almost makes the film a continually fascinating commentary on the forces of nature as it will always leave you guessing. But again, the problem with this is that the killer wolves do in fact have a voice- the Native Americans. And they're more than willing to spew out philosophical theories and ideas. On why the killing is happening. And by film's end, it's made perfectly clear what the wolves' beef is with society. Which almost makes the not-random-enough deaths a tragic result of industrial demolition and corporate takeover. Almost as in: it doesn't create any empathy or sympathy for the wolf-people that they're willing to kill several innocent people just to prove a point. Isn't it lucky then that the film's jaded cop team are brave enough to keep staring death via anthropomorphic killers in the face long enough to uncover the truth and learn who the real enemy is? I will admit that the film's anti-gun sub-message is at least set-up before Albert Finney is evil-eyed into laying down his firearm. Religion is poked. The pureness of political agitators is challenged. There's easily a lot of room to say the film isn't holding anything sacred except for nature itself. I gather the real answers lie in the book the film was based on, which I have not read (big shocker). What Wolfen really offers isn't answers but a unique experience as a film. An elegantly paced, graceful horror film. With often breathtaking visuals, skillfully executed dialogue and scenes of generational conflict (I'm referring to the cops' scenes with each other mostly), and surprisingly patient yet potent scare scenes. The opening murder set-piece in particular is astonishing. The kind of thing Silver Bullet spent its' entire running time trying to reproduce.

[No-Personality]

#96. Hostel (2006, directed by Eli Roth) (Unrated Original Theatrical Cut)

A lot of people seem to be under the incorrect assumption that Eli Roth knows nothing about life. Though every movie he directs has been justly questioned and criticized for being a mere stone's throw away from Rob Zombie-level stupidity, I'm here to tell you - unfortunately - the guy knows a lot more than people give him credit for. No, I'm not talking about foreign affairs or torture dungeons where Americans have allegedly been sold. I'm talking about people. This film was initially received well by critics but coldly by audiences (mostly because the torture was, like Saw, more implied than graphically shown however, unlike Saw, there's a brain hidden beneath the deceptive sleaze and guys on juvenile sexual-conquering mission congratulating each other). And the film would have struck a wrong nerve with audiences because as much as it criticizes the American characters for their actions, it seems to also criticize the then-current state of survival horror for pandering to the dumber inclinations of audiences rather than legitimately relieving their cultural fears. Whether you regard his version of humanity as being a commentary on new millennium movie characters or the genuine article, I would give almost anything to say the asshole American backpackers in this movie didn't remind me of actual people I've met. And not people I've met randomly, like one out of 100. Or 50. I'm talking about people I'm forced to interact with nearly every day. Call them the product of a poor education system or the by-product of life under the Bush Administration, these guys were real then and they're real now. They're the worst of both worlds: they view everyone they come across as another thing for them to use, abuse, derive entertainment from yet they're also fuming with entitled frustration. They walk all over everyone but then expect everyone to respect their vegetarianism or hatred for smoking. What Roth managed to turn this into is less about the torture than it is about the way the new millennium teaches people to value human life. It may look like an uglier, more extreme version of the world we live in but if you ever need a refresher on how low people will go and how much we really hate each other, look at the last 10 years of reality television. Hostel is the next step in American Psycho's cinematic evolution. The entitled users aren't just in the boardrooms anymore, they're self-made, delusionsal admirers of the people who they should be at war with because they have no foresight of their futures. An apt metaphor for not just partying Americans but for voting Americans too. Think about it.

#95. Pet Sematary (1989, directed by Mary Lambert)

Did anyone ever think Fred Gwynne was scary with his Munsters makeup on? Well, guess what? He's scarier without it. Pet Sematary is one of the most clueless family dramas in the history of cinema. There isn't one single moment of character-driven tragedy, sadness, guilt, remorse, regret, whathaveyou that works in the slightest over the course of this 102-minute film. Which is of course why critics absolutely hated it and labeled it inept. They were certainly half-right. Though this is anything but a touching, emotionally rewarding epic, it certainly seems to've braced itself for such by King-sizing everything. Heartbreak, trauma, mental fragility, you name it- this movie has a ton of bricks hanging above every visible vulnerability. Technically, no one ever said a good horror movie needs to be sensitive. What if it went the opposite route and decided what audiences really needed was to be terrorized in their most painful hour of mourning? It's very much like the movie sees a dark spot in someone's soul or psyche, the tragedy of the family's awful ordeals, as a wound it can't resist poking with a stick. Then- throwing salt on it, then scalding hot water, then sulfuric acid, then gasoline and a match. All of this is of course an attempt to justify how much I find this film actually does work as one of the darkest, nastiest mainstream horror films ever released by a major studio. Who in the hell would greenlight this? Well, in fairness, they likely greenlit it before they knew what they were getting. See- the film works because it's consistent. No one has any depth, no scene is fleshed out with realistic characters. It's like Ghost (which Paramount also made a fortune on the next year) and the scenes where Patrick Swayze is looking around but everything rushes by him like he's not there. So, everything everyone does registers as an action performed by people but not people who seem real. You, the audience, aren't in a character's position. You're like a ghost watching it all rush by you. Which, if you were in shock, is a lot like how it would probably unfold in reality. The movie excels in insane amounts of cruelty. Initially, critics even raised a fuss over the production- insisting actor Miko Hughes who played baby Gage must have been viciously abused by the crew. To me, the film seems more playful than sincere. Director Lambert even says on the audio commentary at one point... Click Me

About the scene where the father's hopes of his wife returning to him are dashed and the only thing he had to live for destroys him. Not the kind of attitude you might have expected from the director of Madonna's "Like a Prayer" video. The film really achieves this through its' grisly effects (oh is this thing fun in that respect: blood-oozing exposed brains, cracked purple and white death faces, Gwynne's gloriously gory death scene), its incredibly ominous sound design, bone-chilling music score. Even the bad acting helps this limping dog along more than you'd expect. And the dark humor Lambert speaks of several times on the Collector's Edition DVD, which works more in how close the camera gets to the ghastly images than the idea of them. Lovingly photographing anything-but lovable creatures and deviations of people. And, I believe what I said before. This movie's blatant disrespect for our feelings (which Lambert takes to the ULTIMATE EXTREME in the terrible sequel) is compelling in itself. If this were realistic, loved ones would return to you with pieces of their bodies usually fallen out or dropped off or out of order. This movie leaves them mainly intact, as though they each had a few days to go to the Zombie Hospital and touch-up before going on their homicidal rampage. Turning the baby Gage, especially, into the truly scary version of what Chucky was supposed to be. Your worst nightmare come to life (aka- something you never thought could hurt you, able and wanting to kill you). The movie is terrible in most regards. But through that numbness of sense impairment, it manages to be more haunting than it likely would have been if it had retained any resemblance to reality. And, will anyone ever forget Gwynne's final words in the film? They never fail to send a chill down my spine.

#94. Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn (1987, directed by Sam Raimi)

Anyone who thinks this movie is better than the first is quite simply out of their freaking mind. In many, many ways it's not even a worthy follow-up. Some have called it a remake. And you know what? It can't be considered a worthy remake either. It is a step down from the first film in every department except for... well, what makes it a decent movie in its' own right: the camerawork. Oh, the camerawork. I'll get back to that before this is over. But first: the negatives. Oh, the negatives. This sequel has received one of the most noticeable tonal makeovers in the history of sequels made by the same director or studio as the first film (in this case, of course, it's the same director). Where the original film was a deeply scary anything-goes barrage of horror gags, some of which were a little funny, this sequel is an adventure-thriller in every sense of those two words and Raimi found the time to inject a few horror images into the mold for good measure. The monster witch corpse giraffe-monkey dead, a living tree monster, a few animal monsters, a living severed hand, and several rivers of blood spurting out of holes in walls and floors. Almost everything that made the original a masterpiece is absent from this sequel. Yet, to lend support to the remake theory, it sure copies enough things from the first movie. The floating "deadite" who gives a "creepy" speech to the living people to freak them out is one that particularly irks me, as do all the dialogue bits that return (mostly in the opening). The music here is terrible (for a horror film). The characters are vastly more annoying here than they were in the first film (which in the case of Ash's "best friend" Scott- added to the tension). And for no good reason, either. The special effects are more professional but, even then, the monsters / demons / zombies aren't any scarier. Not with the film's ultra-goofy tone. Nothing here is as scary as it was in the first film. The film is mostly a goofy gag test. The tagline proudly reads "kiss your nerves goodbye," and there's some truth in that. This film does get on your nerves. In all the wrong ways. The movie throws mostly garbage at you and dares you not to get up and walk out. And every single time I rewatch the movie, I get pretty damn close to doing just that. I think I quite hate this movie, deep down. So... you may be wondering... "Why the hell did you put this on your best list?" The camerawork. When a film is groundbreaking for doing something no movie before had ever done, I have to give it due credit (much as it pains me to in this case). And what this movie accomplishes is no small feat. It's quite simply one of the greatest rides ever committed to celluloid. You've never seen a Movie Rollercoaster if you haven't seen Evil Dead II.

#93. Warlock (1989, directed by Steve Miner)

If the 80's in horror could be counted on for one thing, it was novelty premises. From trotting out every holiday on the calendar in order to rip-off Halloween to scouring fairy tale and fantasy books for even obscure mythological creatures to rip-off Gremlins. From worm-like parasites that inject their hosts with drug trips to vampire stripper bars to toxic alcoholic drinks that melt people into rainbow puddles, it was quite a time. We also had a few horror's-answer-to films pop up every now and then. Warlock mixes elements of Back to the Future, The Terminator, and Highlander to create perhaps the only time-traveler horror film I've ever heard of (later spawning a franchise with Bruce Payne taking over the title role in 1999). With a slate of influences like that, it's not surprising Warlock is light on gore, dark atmosphere, and typical jump scares (although there are quite a few emerging-from-the-shadows moments) and relies heavily on its' thrilling situations and pacing. The music at times tips the scales with some moments that make use of the classic styled sprawling epic horror score cliches of yore. The story features two Ye Old New-England stereotypes - whip-cracking, animal-fur bedecked, tall, dark, and kinda handsome Witchhunter He-Man and his nemesis... Guy with Long White Ponytail (must be a witch, just look at how... untanned his skin is) - bouncing from 1691 to 1988 where they meet Miss California 1988 (Forrest Gump's future girlfriend who introduces them to running water, credit cards, and things that scan credit cards) and chase each other as well as track the 3 divisions of a demonic bible called The Grand Grimoire. Which has the power to destroy the universe via reversing all creation itself. Scary... ? No. But, stranger-in-a-strange-land cliches, questionable opening (these guys, one of them a hero, are from a time where they burnt baskets of innocent cats along with their witch? Really?), and dated "Cali" slang aside, the film does have very good ideas and excellent tools at its' disposal. Its' race to stop the title baddie is an extraordinarily effective exercise in nail-biting tension and excitement (and, damn, is it smart with details). Its' then-vs-now plot does give way to some amusing girl power revelations (bimbotic Kassandra is made to look like a flake as a ruse so she can prove that she isn't, and she does). And, as the film's evil male witch, Arachnophobia's Julian Sands carries a lot of cinematic weight. Filling the screen with his sensuous intensity and smoldering sensitivity. Enough to turn Mary Woronov's head. And of course, those eyes and that voice. Let's just say Tony Todd had some very large shoes to fill 3 years later as the new horror king of dark seduction (in Candyman).

[No-Personality]

#92. Cemetery Man (1994, directed by Michele Soavi)

Director Soavi, an Argento protege, has never had the trouble of having to work his way out from underneath the master's shadow. Why? Because of the indiscriminate fans of Eurohorror who can't get enough of their often shoddy mixes of boring sleaze, cheap violence, and 9-out-of-10 times likely to be meaningless surreality (I don't mean to be harsh, unless the subject is French horror, my target really is the fanboys and not the filmmakers as much since they only produce more of what the "public" demands). Take The Church, for instance. What is that; an insufferable wannabe-artsy version of Lamberto (Mario's son) Bava's superior Demons films (why they were superior: they were terrifying, nasty, and didn't pretend for a second to be anything other than ugly gorefests). Of course, there are exceptions to every rule. First, in my opinion, is that the horror genre is so difficult to master that directors aren't ever likely to be able to keep up a winning streak after one amazing film. Argento is the rule (because he rules), though he lost his edge after 1996- that's over 20 years of producing first-rate horror in all different shapes but always sizes larger than horror could even contain (hence why those fanboys love to put on their smarty glasses and call the likes of Deep Red, Tenebre, Opera, and some even Suspiria giallos when their dark glories are clearly better suited for the horror genre), and Soavi is the exception. Wait, sorry, now I'm talking about a different rule. The one that holds Argento so far above what other Italian horror directors are capable of and which dictates that nearly all Italian horror from the mid-70's (when Mario lost his edge) to the late 80's (when Filmirage - Witchery, Hitcher in the Dark, Troll 2 - kinda took over) will pretty much suck. I guess it was only natural that someone trying to be arty for 7 years would finally luck into making a film that half-succeeds at it. There's a lot of goofiness floating around in this alphabet soup of "oddness" (it's not as odd as it wants to be), half-baked "poetry" about how everything symbolizes death (these passages are so corny, they might as well be spoken by the Cryptkeeper), and this might actually be the least scary film on this entire list (including the honorable mentions). Actually, that "least scary" thing might be unfair. The film does, ala- American Psycho (again), Carnival of Souls, and Groundhog Day (ha), tap into the fears that nothing you do makes the slightest bit of difference, you're isolated from the world around you, and that you're doomed to be hopelessly trapped in the same exact actions every day that you live. That has to be scary to someone. Scary enough to make anyone cringe at the sight of Rupert Everett's adorable nude bum or Anna Falchi's ginormous areolas (there's sex in this movie... by the way, that's another - albeit obscure - shot at those fanboys). When you eliminate the need for this arty film to be scary, I think you realize as I have (and this took a few years) that Cemetery Man is shockingly close to being a masterwork. It may be hard for me to drum up the proper enthusiasm, but it is. And succeeds on multiple levels. The irony and would-be political commentary are superficial but the existential elements mixed with the eyeball torching style results in more than a handful of breathtaking scenes. The finale, especially, is one of the most awe-inspiring scenes in the entire genre. Why can't Hollywood do something like that (they have more than enough money)?

#91. Night of the Comet (1984, directed by Thom Eberhardt)

Speaking of Hollywood, has anyone else noticed how lower budgeted, non-Hollywood features of the 80's have aged better than the big studio fare? In terms of everything: youth sensibilities, maturity, honesty, guts, and occasionally fashion, art, and overall taste? This rather adult handling of the end of the world in particular, though there's little to compare it to unless you think it's about the fear of zombies (in which case, everyone might compare it to Night of the Creeps, The Video Dead, Day of the Dead, and The Return of the Living Dead to name a few). It begins in a horrifyingly dated whirl of 80's awfulness. Or, to be more specific, it begins with the 80's trying to be reminiscent of the 50's. Call it a nod to the material the movie culls its' influence from. But, after the Ominously-Serious Narrator Intro, and the credits throwing a sorta reverse-Ghostbusters at us (crowds of people gathering to celebrate something like they think this moment in time is one for the ages), the movie does a modern breakdown of its' vision of teen life (in an era when a meteorological event signals the end of society as we know it) and a quite hellish and sober portrait of 80's family life (much as I hated being confronted with a stepmother-stepdaughter fistfight when I first watched this and originally felt it was pointless as well as unpleasent, you have to admit even casual domestic abuse like this is common for a lot of young people in any decade). The movie acknowledges the 80's world (mostly reduced to all the relevant forms of decoration, ya know: what you remember about the decade through nearly everything but perhaps Bruce Springsteen songs) but watching these kinds of characters (again, much more honest ones than you might be used to seeing) talking like this and choosing to make intelligent, thoughful decisions (the main characters are a pair of sisters raised by their Major Dad to know how to shoot machine guns and protect themselves through hand-to-hand combat) while surrounded by cheesy radio rock, rainbow neon light bulb beams, and everything plastic is a trip. The movie gets a little less fun as a militant group of government-thug scientists enter the picture with intentions to do something pretty vague but it still never loses its' wits, thanks to Mary Woronov's more humanitarianist character (whom I found myself caring about). Most surprising of all is when the movie throws a party midway to take advantage of the Dawn of the Dead possibilites of living in an abandoned major city, but seems to want to spoil it just a couple minutes in by suggesting gun-toting rebels set-up shop here to mess with anyone wanting to have fun. Instead of feeling like a bummer, the scene manages to be exciting, tense, and even make its' too-talkative psycho-game show host gang leader less annoying than you'd expect. A mouthful of great dialogue can work many wonders.

#90. Zombie (1979, directed by Lucio Fulci)

It may take a certain kind of horror fan to appreciate or explain the anticipation that comes with seeing a Lucio Fulci film you've never seen before for the first time. But it's in direct proportion to both how much the director is hyped in cult circles and how much his trailers can unnerve the shit out of you if you're the right viewing age. In my experience, the dread you feel while watching the trailer is like a balloon that fills inside of you and can only be deflated once you've seen the film. A morbid curiosity that builds upon seeing just a few of these scenes woven together, along with this music (Click Me), and simply having to know what kind of cinematic atrocity this is (my use of the word "atrocity" is intended to only be flattering). Not all Fulci trailers (and thereby, the films themselves) are winners, even if you can enjoy truly terrible films based on how disgusting or dirty they are, but after (almost) 6 years juggling his 4 zombie-themed splatter films made from '79 to '81 in my DVD player, I feel secure in my ability to say this is the only good one. A lot of Beyond fans will surely cry "heresy" from the tree tops and be tempted to throw things at me but don't listen to them. The difference in Fulci's ability to round this one out more carefully while Beyond (something of a follow-up, by the way, to City of the Living Dead which traffics in the same basic formula) is a sad mess with the power to render you speechless (nearly always for the wrong reasons) might be thematic. There's no "dreamlike" feel to this movie, no hallucinogenic tone, and no "I might be going crazy" arguments to defend the muddle-headed nature of the weirdness on display here (and this movie is pretty damn weird). Just good old-fashioned gore, creepiness (the kind you can feel on your skin), a little sadism (also the kind you feel), and characters given no time or plot contrivance to doubt what's happening is actually happening to them. The other Fulci zombie trash-epics take you deep into dank, damp, earthy, dusty gothic nightmare worlds then snap you out of the surprisingly attractive/distractive trance with gore effects so cheap that you are immediately and jarringly snapped out of the mood the movie needs to work. Somehow, this film breaks away from that trap. It's more consistent. A lot more. And that makes it work better. A lot better. I think it's the fact that there are no gateways to hell opening and no scenes of people getting lost then found by the FX crew. It can't hurt that this film is also more effectively shot, structured, and paced.

#89. Sorority House Massacre 2 (1990, directed by Jim Wynorski)

There are many things I'll never de-appreciate from my childhood. For example, Gremlins 2: The New Batch changed my life. Though movies have changed my life many times, my reason for mentioning that sequel in discussion of these sequels is in the first image I hope to impart upon you in the hope you'll one day become a person of far lower standards and find yourself determined against all dissuasion to see this film. And its' sequel, Hard to Die, featuring a return by almost the entire cast. They are glorious (in what they are, there are no equals). That image is of the Phantom of the Opera Gremlin playing that cheesy rendition of (the most famous stretch of) Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor while another Gremlin dressed as a Princess comes into frame and winks at the camera. Of course that wink was much more of an "ooh, look at me- I'm a pretty pretty Princess and I'm so naive and curious," but the point is that the makers of Gremlins 2 can't (and don't) expect everyone to think their jokes are made of gold. But the movie knows what it is (for one thing- very unoriginal; another tie that binds these two movies), doesn't take itself seriously, and manages to rise above its' meager foundational means (plot, characters, allegorical value). For example, these movies (and the career of their director, a guy who still churns out a cheapie at least once a year) wouldn't exist without 1982's Roger Corman-produced misfire (though certainly not financially- this thing still inspires rip-offs to this day), Slumber Party Massacre. A boring skinfest which critics easily picked apart because it was written and directed by feminists, but a movie that nonetheless had one thing worth warranting its' existence- an amazing ending. Somehow, that movie was born of the early 80's proliferation of school-themed slashers (Prom Night, Slaughter High, Graduation Day, Hell Night) and lasted throughout the decade after expanding to other subgenres (Killer Party: demons, Re-Animator: zombies, Vamp: donkeys) (just kidding, they were vampires- big shocker, right?). And, long after all that had started and just as it looked like the mainstream was demanding something a little more tonally grave (Child's Play), an entire anti-serious movement was beginning, piloted by the likes of Corman, Full Moon's Charles Band, and Troma's Lloyd Kaufman, who previously needed the cinemas and had a great relationship with the last few places mistakable for grindhouses, where the critics could not touch them: direct-to-video.

I'm guessing the idea is: different market, different demands. That the filmmakers knew renters weren't expecting the same returns from video than they were with theater-released fare (crap) like 1988's remake of The Blob (I know people like it but I don't, at all). The range of creativity on display in most direct-to-video features of the mid-to-late 80's was pretty stunted apart from Full Moon (who still released a decent amount of their films to theaters- usually Stuart Gordon's Poe or Lovecraft adaptations) and Troma, but 3 directors rose to the top as pioneers- Fred Olen Ray (Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, Evil Toons), David DeCoteau (Puppet Master 3, Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama, then later formed his own company specializing in skin flicks targeted to gay renters- I hesitate calling them homo"erotic"), and Wynorski (who easily peaked between this film and his excellent sequel to 976-Evil). This film couldn't have opened on a more perfect note. Hopefully he's as big a fan of Killer Klowns from Outer Space as I am because his go-to music guru on all his early 90's projects was Chuck Cirino, a genius who worked on various audio effects on Klowns and creates a score for Massacre 2 that tells you all you need to know about the movie you're about to watch. It's both epically cheesy (but, I think tastefully so) and epically brooding. Larger than life deep, bass-heavy notes and choiral wailing that feels like some kind of dark nodding musical reminder of Crazy Ralph's classic warning: "you're all doomed!" I admit, I'm not sure I'd have a leg to stand on praising this film were it not for the music. I think it functions as a strong stalk-and-slash flick but it does seem to intentionally point out the fact that the situations the characters end up in (pre-slash) are cliches. Both in the camera set-ups and subtle one-liners like "if you had to clean up after a psycho's axe party, you'd be a little bonkers too" and "I'm taking this with me- for comfort." The dialogue is certainly smarter than it needs to be, though commentary from a feminist cop could be viewed as hypocritical given most of the actresses' wardrobe (Showgirls never imagined this much T&A). But, finally, we have the subject of Orville Ketchum, the obvious suspect to be the films' cloaked killer. He appears in both this and Hard to Die and plays on people's fears of what I like to call The Maniac Type. However, if you saw that film then you know it delights in trying to prove big-and-tall blue collar men are as disgusting on the inside as people think they look on the outside. Wynorski takes this cliche out of the stone age and makes Ketchum a kind of hero who aims to protect the girls. He fails, for the most part, and the remaining girls are left to defend themselves. But he tries.

[No-Personality]

#88. Near Dark (1987, directed by Kathryn Bigelow)

Twilight might get the most crap thrown at it but, in truth, vampire films have been looked at as horror's ugly stepchild for quite some time. In the 70's, it was considered the most passe of subgenres because filmmakers couldn't look past its' Draculian history of Romanian castles, thunderstorms, and flying bats. In the 80's, thanks to Fright Night and, ironically, The Lost Boys, it got a little respect. A silent nod of approval from fans as it walked down the horror hallways. But overkill (leading to parodies such as Vampire's Kiss, Once Bitten, and My Best Friend is a Vampire) gave us new unwanted cliches like the sensitive vampire afraid to give in to their dark urges. Which is generally what bothers most horror fans- they kind of want vampires to be just like werewolves. Which makes no sense to me. The subgenre also gets some flack for being "gay" to some, which translates to some others as being homophobic. This is also something I can't wrap my head around. Vampires are unquestionably the most sexual of monsters and where werewolves stand for anarchy of manners and the wild instinct to separate from society, vampires bring anarchy to sexual norms (though not in this film). Meanwhile, where werewolf films remain a better loved subgenre among horror fans as a whole, I find vampire films have unequivocally produced better results. There's just a lot more to work with, substance and allegory-wise. After all the stuff I've seen (and some I've missed), I've learned that vampirism can be mixed with and used as a metaphor for literally anything. Near Dark remains one of the most respected vampire films of any decade and the reason why typically falls to its' characters' ability to fit into any time period. The film crosses horror with westerns but audiences always love tough guys, and occasionally, tough women (as evidenced by Alien's lasting popularity). And bars and guns and explosions and drinking and card playing and tough talking. All of which this has. However, director Bigelow (yes, the same Academy Award winner - not the last we'll see on this list - behind The Hurt Locker) shifts back and forth from western to horror to deeply fascinating art film. If you listen to her talk about the film, the aspect she's most passionate about is the one easiest to miss. Jenny Wright's character mentions hearing and seeing the night. It becomes her way of recognizing the vastness of the world. There's a great moment when after she tells the Caleb character to stop the truck, he says "here?" like it's nowhere. She's not telling him directly but she tells us that everywhere is somewhere. When the characters stop playing tough, they all become smart and open in this way. The movie is really about travelers and what it's most essential for the acting to do is make you believe these people have been everywhere and seen everything. Which is a side effect of immortality almost no other vampire film had the notion to explore.

#87. Blue Sunshine (1978, directed by Jeff Lieberman)

So, you know how 28 Days Later is frequently considered a zombie film? I support that. Though even I know it's really a disease film where the disease makes people go crazy and attack the non-infected. But, that film has one fatal flaw: having people running around like football players while the camera shakes makes people infected with anything resulting in superhuman strength look inhuman. Inhuman, like zombies. I don't care if that's the point or not, if you expect people to be afraid of humans- they have to remind you of people who can hurt you in average, everyday circumstances. I mean: have you ever seen a person look at you like they want to actually eat you? This, of course, is a fear in itself but it's not a fear of humanity. And, chances are, you've never been in that situation. That film owes this aspect to the 1970's, where it was literally a trend with horror to have people losing their mind and being driven to kill or coming into contact with a disease that makes them attack people who aren't infected. Great thing about the 70's, my vote for the best decade in horror history, was that each film about (almost anything, really) was different and unique. Romero's The Crazies (which has been remade, and is the best new millennium remake I've come across if you want to roll the dice) was specifically about an airborn virus, Cronenberg's They Came from Within (aka- Shivers) had a parasite passed through sexual contact (actually Cronenberg had a couple more fascinating epidemic-of-violent-attack films in the 70's, one about an actual disease and the other basically about familial violent born-in patterns), and Blue Sunshine which has the same crazies-attack disease but this one stemming from the after-effects of recreational experimental drug use. This one is interesting for its' uniqueness, as it contains images made to play on fears not of drugs but of things (that Cronenberg's The Fly would explore in greater detail 8 years later) like loss of hair at an early age. When this turns people we see as human into psychotic, superhuman killing machines (believably, like in an original Crazies as opposed to a remake or a 28 Days Later) with their odd, almost alienlike bald heads (which I'm told many people find creepy) flying into wide-eyed murder-mania, the movie admits it wants to freak you out. Which I admire. Though it's another one you've never heard of, it has both the intelligence of a movie studio execs wouldn't think to offer the public and a commitment to taking its' premise all the way. The movie can also boast likable characters, strong dialogue, and just a good head for knowing the genre. Predicting future thematic emphasis through its' casual aknowledgment of politics (something Cronenberg would mine for gold in his adaptation of Stephen King's The Dead Zone 5 years later) and tapping into cliche while it's fresh with its' music score which lightly uses effects The Shining and The Evil Dead could have later attempted to trademark.

#86. Troll 2 (1990, directed by Claudio Fragasso)

Don't worry, you're going to find plenty of movies on this list where I believe the monster or killer are the truly fearful thing about it. But, as with Hostel, the terrifying thing here is how there's little to no distinction whatsoever between the horror of the movie's threat (the goblins) and the characters you think you're supposed to identify with (Joshua and his frickin' ultra-creepy family). Oh, I know what you're going to say: they're only like this because they're bad actors. But... does bad acting actually scare anyone? I know things that are weird put people off and that should drive up a movie's tension. But people can only decry bad acting because they like to pretend they don't see it very often. What they need to come to terms with is that some movies really don't need good acting. That sound shocking? It's true. What acting does, good or bad, is aid in setting a tone for a movie. And if the movie is already off-kilter, say...because the plot involves vegetarian goblins who eat people but must first transform them into plant-matter before they can chow down- what kind of a movie do you think this would be if it starred Ben Kingsley, Meryl Streep, Kenneth Branagh, Joan Plowright, Mel Gibson, and Mary Stuart Masterson? Do you think it would retain half its' strangeness then? Given the film's reputation, I'm not sure even if it were cast with better unknown actors that people would have been open-minded to it. I admit it needs some work. That is, if it wants to be a movie that makes you fear backward, simplistic townsfolk. Or, people who apply cult-oriented morals to their eating habits. But its' disregard for basic film rules makes it more pure. Purely insane (can you tell me you can imagine someone coming up with these ideas?). Sometimes, horror just needs to thrive off insanity. Like fantasy must have mystery to survive- some things really don't have to make sense. Troll 2 is remarkable and has one of the most unique atmospheres in horror. I've seen other horror films (most Italian-produced) sold on the merit of being dreamlike or nightmarish and they didn't feel half this hazy or delirious. The music, abundance of oppressively bright grey skies, and cheap imagery are all essential partners in achieving this. And, much as people love to hate the movie for its' bad acting- there are some concepts in horror that will never be scary. But, Margo Prey? Now... there's something terrifying!! She doesn't have to try to act to be scary. What really makes a movie is in what makes it memorable. And, are you ever going to be able to forget Troll 2 once you've seen it?

#85. Don't Look Now (1973, directed by Nicolas Roeg)

I intend with this project to be brutally honest whenever possible. And, a listing like this makes the cut because I can tell a good movie when I see one. But I think there have to be people who are unimpressed by certain things regardless of inherent quality. Don't Look Now is relentlessly classy. It's got classical music (and a very beautiful score). Donald Sutherland doing his Donald Sutherland thing throughout the majority of this 2-hour movie. No subtitles on the Italian dialogue, meanwhile- the Italian speaking hotel manager has a ton of sideline commentary on everything Sutherland and wife do. It would be very nice to know what he's saying and, no, I don't have the time to learn a whole other language now. Architecture everywhere. People musing about how wonderful Venice is. It's a movie full of life, love, yearning, happiness...and by that, I mean it's a captivating portrait of a solid, loving relationship between two people who have been through one of the most terrible things a couple can. Yet, it bores the hell out of me. Not entirely. I mean, it has style but it lags. It has ace cinematography but I happen to think this movie's vision of Venice is ugly. And it burdens me that I feel like I notice things, maybe most of what the movie is trying to be subtle about, and that it doesn't move me. It's probably that nagging religious thing. Me not being. This is a religious movie and... did they just expect that everyone in America where Paramount really aimed the movie's release - in the 70's of all times - had a very religious upbringing; that it was something the majority of all audiences understood without needing it explained? Well, much of it is religious. The rest is about the idea of spirits and anything we think of as being supernatural, psychic predictions / visions of the future bleeding into the present. The kind of thing organized religion is against but that true spirituality is actually about. So... perhaps the movie can appeal to me after all. If it's about something that defies an institution which has abused us as a people for so long. But, there's definitely one thing I don't get: the priest who Sutherland is so creeped out by but whom is somehow psychically linked with him at the end. What the hell is that about? Was Sutherland right and he's not so good... or was the priest father guy right and Sutherland is a big fool? I don't like movie mind games and I like religious mind game movies even less. Which then leaves us with the real horror aspect: the killer. The rumors that this movie is brilliant when it comes to its' horror are true. The fears of the killer are reduced to "isn't that tragic?" aftermath shots of people reacting to the killings instead of us seeing anything actually happening. It's kind of like people taking for granted that the mysterious killer epidemic is happening to someone else, somewhere else, and couldn't happen to anyone, anywhere. The story is fully centered on the couple and their woes with grieving child and their growing apart... meanwhile, we don't know it but the killer is closing in on one of them. It happens by virtue of both premonition and incredible coincidence.

[Foggle]

Nice to see some Cemetery Man love!

Personally, I think Evil Dead 2 is superior to the original, as I find it to be a better comedy than the first one was a horror. But that's just me.

[Avaitor]

I shared the list on here earlier, but there seems to be no reply. But hey, having this on here seems way more righteous.

Out of all of these films, the only ones I've seen are Evil Dead II, Zombie, and of course Troll 2. And I gotta say that the only one I was expecting was the middle one. I was surprised to see the other 2 on, knowing your history with EDII, and Troll 2's, *ahem*, reputation. But your justification for everything is really strong.

[No-Personality]

Anyone else having a problem with the pictures showing up? (I am so sick of Photobucket.)

(And I'll answer to replies as soon as I have this fixed.)

[Avaitor]

Everything looks fine to me.

[No-Personality]

And, how about any of the pictures being too dark? I go back and forth to check this on 2 different computers. On this screen, the pics look okay. A little dark. On the other screen, they're so dark (on light backgrounds), you can barely see them. Not all the pictures, of course, just the ones that are mostly bright objects with a lot of dark surrounding them or scenes taking place at night.

[Avaitor]

It might be a case by case thing, since some pictures do look a little darker than they probably should be, but that isn't too much of a detraction. If you really want to edit some of these pics, you might have to double check them.

So far the biggest flaw I can find here is that you have your Hostel entry posted twice. Everything else looks fine to my eyes.

[No-Personality]

So far the biggest flaw I can find here is that you have your Hostel entry posted twice. Everything else looks fine to my eyes.

Fixed.

The pictures are still either not showing up for me or they're too slow and eventually I just get red-X's, so I'm moving them over to Blogspot. I've already started.

Thanks (to both of you) for the support. It took me a lot of time. The reason I didn't reply before was that I completely forgot about the forum. But I have my own computer now and I'm bookmarking it right now in my favorites.

Thanks to the Ultimate Disney crap, I stopped writing entirely. I'm going to have to try posting about 10 entries from now on to get this done before October starts. So, the summaries I write to go along might become a bit shorter in time.

[Avaitor]

What happened at UD, if you don't mind my asking?

[Foggle]

Yeah, the pictures all look good to me (and work, too!).

Your explanations are pretty lengthy/detailed. I'll definitely understand if they start getting shorter as you write more of them.

[Dr. Ensatsu-ken]

Great list so far. I like that you put a lot of clear detail and analysis into each of your entries.

As for some comments of my own, I can say that I'm not a fan of Hostel (to put it mildly), but you're write-up did admittedly point out some of the stronger aspects of the movie, which doesn't necessarily change my mind or perspective on it, but it does give me the ability to at least acknowledge that Eli Roth was going for more than just a gore-fest in this movie (though, truth be told this movie isn't even that gory as quite a lot of the "torture" is implied more than it is actually shown on-screen). My problem with Hostel was always that I could never quite make out just what sort of commentary Roth was actually trying to make with this film, but something like that is more in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. Anyways that was one good entry of yours that I felt like commenting on.

Also, much like Foggle, I personally enjoyed Evil Dead II more than the original if only because the latter was intentionally silly, and while I respect the former for being a relatively well-done independent horror film made by amateur college-level film-makers, I do have a hard to appreciating it as a legitimately good horror movie. It does have some unintentional humor in the mix, but I believe much like Foggle I ended up enjoying Evil Dead II's intentional style of humor. As for Army of Darkness, I still have yet to watch that film, so I really have no comment on it, but I'm pretty sure that one was a straight-up comedy from the get-go, as all of the horror elements had been done away with by the end of Evil Dead II.

[gunswordfist]

Wait, is the House listed the one with the guy that is a war vet?