Sleazy, thoroughly enjoyable 1980s “women in prison/nuthouse” flick.
A low-budget indie starring a crazy MMA fighter as a crazy, murderous psychopath in a love letter to slashers of yore.
Director William Castle’s bizarre, schizophrenic children’s nightmare, damn near perfectly realized.
A dreamy, sensuous, and deliciously “off” Italian giallo classic.
And you thought your family had problems.
Superlative British shocker: expertly directed, beautifully constructed, and scintillatingly shot.
Greta, you’re no Cujo. But you’re pretty cute. It’s the best you can do when your film is produced by…a construction company?
Cold, impersonal, distant Frankenstein re-imagining―and a fairly perverse jab at its horror/suspense genre conventions.
Those eyes…those green laser eyes…
Summer’s winding down. It’s a drag. I didn’t do anything fun. I didn’t even go to our last local drive-in. But then again…why would I?