Destroy All Monsters
Eleven monsters, no restraint. Honda cashing every chip at once.
479 entries. Curated, not exhaustive. A short shelf of things worth knowing about beats a long one nobody can navigate.
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.
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.
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.
Not staged, which makes it far worse. A repellent document.
William Marshall plays it completely straight and almost saves it.
Lenzi chasing Deodato with none of the argument. Real animal deaths, no defence.
Made by an industrial-film director for $33,000. Genuinely haunted.
The drill scene. Otherwise thin, but the atmosphere is thick.
Argento's third. Unavailable for decades, and worth the wait for the last shot.
The film where Godzilla becomes a hero. Three of Toho's monsters team up against a golden space dragon.
The sequel that turned one Hercules hit into an entire industry.
The original. Oscar-nominated song, colonial gaze, half of it staged.
Cronenberg's debut. A phallic parasite turns a luxury apartment tower into an orgy of the infected.
The one that is actually fun. Ferrets steal the film.
Cronenberg turns a divorce into monsters. Rage made flesh, and it is about his own custody battle.
Turkish Star Wars. Contains actual Star Wars footage. Not licensed.
Troma's only good film, and the head-crushing is still funny.
Almost no dialogue, almost no plot, and completely hypnotic.
Sayles again. A flushed pet in the sewers, and it knows how silly that is.
Jamie Lee Curtis, a masked killer, and a decade-old secret. Halloween cashes in, disco included.
Argento's least favourite of his own films. He is roughly right.
A white Challenger, amphetamines, and an existential crisis at speed.
The template, and still the best-looking film on this list.
King Hu, Cheng Pei-pei, and the template for every wuxia since.
Steve Reeves, a Mr Universe title, and the start of the Italian genre machine.
Shot on the leftover Hogan's Heroes set. Nothing here is defensible; it's catalogued, not recommended.
Shot at weekends over four years by Jackson and his friends. Astonishing.
Argento's sequel to Suspiria. Even less plot, even more colour. A building that is alive.
Val Lewton doing Jane Eyre in the Caribbean. Beautiful and barely horror.
A dead cop stalks New York in uniform. Larry Cohen writes, Robert Z'Dar's jaw does the rest.