Terror Train
A costume party on a moving train, a killer swapping disguises, and Jamie Lee Curtis again.
519 entries. Curated, not exhaustive. A short shelf of things worth knowing about beats a long one nobody can navigate.
A costume party on a moving train, a killer swapping disguises, and Jamie Lee Curtis again.
A flamethrower and a meat grinder. Death Wish with the restraint removed.
The one usually called the first giallo. Still half a krimi.
Corman starts the cycle. Peter Fonda, real Hells Angels, and a funeral.
A masterpiece and an ordeal. The kangaroo hunt is real footage and it is unbearable.
One sheriff, one hickory club, and the blueprint for every Southern vigilante picture after it.
$35,000, shot on 42nd Street, and completely charming. The best kind of cheap.
Meyer and Roger Ebert, at a major studio, on drugs. Somehow released.
Death Wish enrols at high school and the faculty loses.
Fulci's best film and his angriest. A giallo about mob justice in a village.
Coffy again, louder and worse written. Grier is still magnetic.
A prestige director slumming in the glut, and a poster more famous than the film.
The cannibal cycle in a dinner jacket, ex-Bond girl and real animal deaths included.
German, banned widely, and much sadder than its reputation suggests.
Cronenberg gives Marilyn Chambers a blood-feeding stinger. Montreal falls apart around her.
Ninety minutes of nothing, then an ending nobody who has seen it forgets.
Opens with fifty-four schoolgirls and an oncoming train. Then it gets stranger.
Sixty-seven minutes of industrial nightmare. Nothing else looks like it.
A military bioweapon drives a town homicidally insane. Romero on institutional failure, again.
Corbucci in the snow. The ending would never have cleared an American studio.
A killer in WWII combat gear stalks a graduation dance. Savini's best gore work.
Unusually sad for a giallo, and much better for it.
The most openly political of the Zapata cycle, and the sharpest.
Three stories, one Karloff. The Wurdulak segment is the best thing Bava shot.
Herbert West builds a woman from parts. The sequel goes bigger, wetter and more demented.
Eleven monsters, no restraint. Honda cashing every chip at once.
Stuart Gordon and Jeffrey Combs do Lovecraft again. A machine that lets you see what should stay unseen.
The psychedelic pollution one. Godzilla fights a smog monster, and the film goes completely strange.
The French extremity wave stripped to one room, one night, and a pair of scissors.
A mutant newborn kills the delivery room and goes on the run. Larry Cohen means the metaphor.
Canadian, mine-set, unusually well shot. The censored cut ruined it for decades.
Needles taped under the eyes so she cannot look away. Argento's last truly great film.
The raft scene is the best kill in any slasher. The rest is fine.
Corman stages an LSD experience with every optical trick he had. Written by Jack Nicholson.
Hammer clocks that the censors have loosened and sends Ingrid Pitt to make the most of it.
Franco's most watchable. The soundtrack outlived the film by decades.