Lifeforce
Tobe Hooper's space-vampire epic, adapted from Colin Wilson, and it is completely insane in the best way.
486 entries, from the 1931 Universal cycle to last year. Curated, not exhaustive: a short shelf of things worth knowing about beats a long one nobody can navigate.
72 films · page 2 of 2
Tobe Hooper's space-vampire epic, adapted from Colin Wilson, and it is completely insane in the best way.
Alex Garland being about as subtle as a church door. The final sequence is remarkable regardless.
Angela Carter adapting herself. Nested fairy tales about what adults tell girls about men.
Two children snowed in with their father's new partner, who has a history with a cult.
The best of Corman's Poe cycle, shot by Nicolas Roeg on sets left over from Becket.
Gareth Evans doing folk horror with the fight choreography left in. Much nastier than expected.
Two coroners, one body, one basement. A masterclass in escalating a single location.
Blonde children with glowing eyes and no interest in you. Efficient, cold, 77 minutes.
The Turn of the Screw done perfectly, and it never once tells you whether the ghosts are real.
A yacht, a storm, an ocean liner, and a loop that keeps folding back on a single mother.
Ken Russell's best film, cut in every territory it has ever played, and still not properly released.
Four men, a Swedish forest, and a creature design worth waiting for.
Shows you nothing for two hours and is more frightening than anything that shows you everything.
The film that made Hammer, made in colour, with blood that looks like blood.
Osgood Perkins doing King as a gore comedy. The deaths are elaborate and the film is laughing.
A squad on exercise in the Highlands versus werewolves, and it is closer to a war film than to horror.
Ended Powell's career in Britain because it puts the audience behind the camera and knows it.
Polanski's first English film. A flat, a woman, and hands coming out of the walls.
Philip Glass wrote the score believing it was an art film. That mistake is why it sounds like nothing else.
Christopher Lee plays Dracula as a physical threat rather than a foreign gentleman, and it is over in 82 minutes.
Six women, an uncharted cave, and a group dynamic already poisoned before anything goes wrong.
A musical about a policeman with no sense of humour. The best British horror film ever made.
Mickey Rourke hunts a missing crooner for a client called Louis Cyphre, and the answer is the worst possible one.
Clive Barker adapting his own novella, and the Cenobites are on screen for about eight minutes.
The super-8 reels are the film. Everything between them is a man in an office not turning the lights on.
John Cusack alone in a hotel room for most of the running time, and it is the best single-location King film.
Grief, Venice, and an edit that keeps showing you the ending before you can read it.
A haunted house film in space, hated on release, and the studio destroyed roughly thirty minutes of it.
Boyle and Garland back together, shot largely on iPhones rigged in arrays. Stranger than the sequel anybody expected.
Rick Baker won the first ever Academy Award for makeup for a transformation that hurts to watch.
A film about a man realising his son is not his. Jerry Goldsmith won the Oscar and earned it.
No villain at all, only a process. The last twenty minutes are the closest film has come to Lovecraft.
Shot on DV, made them fast, and restarted the whole genre for fifteen years.
Body horror about how the industry treats women over fifty, with Demi Moore doing the bravest work of her career.
A haunted house film in space, and the crew are contractors arguing about bonuses.
King hated it. Everyone else was right. The geography of the hotel is deliberately impossible.