Hatchet for the Honeymoon
Bava's first-person portrait of a killer who murders brides to recover a childhood memory. Genuinely strange.
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.
142 films · page 2 of 4
Bava's first-person portrait of a killer who murders brides to recover a childhood memory. Genuinely strange.
A meek British sound engineer comes apart while dubbing an Italian horror film he can hear but never see.
The last great Italian horror film, and it is a romantic comedy about a man who shoots the dead for a living.
Austrian, based on real 18th-century court records, and about a form of despair almost nobody has filmed.
Ti West's other 1970s-feeling film, about two clerks working the last weekend of a haunted hotel.
Eerie, well made, and completely undeserving of the list. Stan Winston's effects.
A palliative nurse decides she has been called. Morfydd Clark is terrifying and the last shot is a gut punch.
Oz Perkins' debut. Glacial, wintry, and the timeline is doing something you will only spot late.
Romero's own favourite. A vampire film in which there may be no vampire, only a disturbed boy with razor blades.
Shot in a real abandoned asylum, and the building does most of the work.
Ferrara's debut, and mostly a film about being broke in New York. The sleeve got it prosecuted.
A radio DJ and a switchboard operator in 1950s New Mexico chase a signal across one night. Shot for almost nothing.
Fulci's best giallo, a fever of LSD dreams and a murder that may not have happened.
A haunted red dress moves from customer to customer through a nightmarish department store.
Dementia as a house that grows corridors. The last ten minutes are unexpectedly tender.
A man convinced aliens are infiltrating Earth kidnaps a CEO to torture the truth out of him. Nothing prepares you for where it goes.
Told out of order in six chapters, shot on 35mm by Giovanni Ribisi. The structure is the whole trick.
Two brothers return to the UFO death cult they escaped, and time is looping in the hills.
An American in Bucharest who cannot speak the language and is not being believed. Quietly excellent.
A detective investigating identical murders committed by unconnected people who cannot say why.
Joe Spinell wrote himself the lead and Tom Savini blew his own head off on camera.
A lonely young woman decides that if she cannot find a whole person to love, she will assemble one.
Brandon Cronenberg working the family seam without embarrassment. The practical effects are appalling in the right way.
Jodorowsky's most coherent film, which is a comparative statement. A circus, an armless mother and a son who lends her his hands.
Bava's proto-giallo, the film that invented the template, shot in gorgeous black and white in Rome.
Anna Kendrick's directorial debut, about the serial killer who appeared on The Dating Game mid-spree.
An Iranian vampire western shot in California, in Farsi, in black and white. Nothing else looks like it.
Two actors, a cabin and a camera. Mark Duplass is the most unsettling thing in modern horror.
The British portmanteau that every anthology since has copied, and the ventriloquist episode has never been bettered.
A South Sudanese couple in British asylum housing. The haunting and the bureaucracy are the same thing.
Fifty-four schoolgirls hold hands and step in front of a train in the first three minutes.
A German alpine resort, Hunter Schafer, and Dan Stevens doing an accent. Deeply strange.
A former detective running an escort agency works out that his missing women all went to the same client.
Two children snowed in with their father's new partner, who has a history with a cult.
Made for 33,000 dollars by an industrial film-maker in Kansas, and it looks like a dream somebody had.
Miike at his most gleefully unpleasant, and the sickbag handed out at Toronto was a marketing stunt that worked.