Camille 2000
Dumas restaged in a mod furniture showroom. The best-looking softcore of its year by a mile.
479 entries. Curated, not exhaustive. A short shelf of things worth knowing about beats a long one nobody can navigate.
Dumas restaged in a mod furniture showroom. The best-looking softcore of its year by a mile.
Vietnam veterans as cannibals. Sillier and kinder than the jungle cycle.
Lewis finishing his gore trilogy. A painter, and his pigment source.
Ercoli's best. Structurally cleverer than most of the cycle.
Sold as a women-in-prison quickie. Shot like an art film. Meiko Kaji barely blinks.
Castellari's breakout in the genre, and Franco Nero furious for ninety minutes.
Naschy's grisliest, and the one where the rats were not an effect.
The gadget-gunslinger spaghetti west arrives fully dressed in black.
D'Amato's convent, where the theology is a coat-hook for the softcore.
Mid-tier Eurospy with an unusually good title and Mike Connors.
The one that started it, by remaking A Man Called Horse in Thailand.
Esper again. One reefer leads directly to nude swimming and death.
Barbara Steele twice over, one of them back from the grave, scored by a young Morricone.
Zombies that run and use guns, decades early. Incompetent in enjoyable ways.
Blind Dead again, this time besieging a whole village. The best of the four.
West Germany's pseudo-documentary sex series. Thirteen entries, vast profits, zero shame.
The Exorcist, shot-for-shot, in Istanbul, with the same score. Astonishing nerve.
Castellari's Death Wish. An ordinary engineer, brutalised and ignored, arms himself.
Lau Kar-leung's brutal last great Shaw film. A massacred family, and pole fighting as grief.
Castellari's best. The car-rolling-down-the-hill shot is famous for a reason.
Kinski playing both twins and a killer's claw that snaps shut like a bear trap. The krimi going out swinging.
The first Rialto Wallace krimi, and the reason the other thirty exist.
A widower lures redheads to his castle to get over his dead wife. Nonsense plot, glorious mood.
Sonny Chiba tearing people apart. First film rated X in America for violence alone.
Naschy's Waldemar Daninsky at his most enjoyable.
Two women lure travellers to a country house and drain them. British, bloody, erotic.
Cannibals and zombies at once, reusing the Zombi 2 sets and cast.
Franco at his dreamiest. Distributors added zombies later without telling him.
A resurrected torturer stalks his own castle. Bava on more commercial autopilot, still gorgeous.
Jim Kelly karate-chops the mob to save a Watts dojo. Blaxploitation meets kung fu, joyfully.
The Defiant Ones with Pam Grier, shot in the Philippines by a Filipino who actually knew the terrain.
Two Harlem detectives chase a stolen fortune hidden in a bale of cotton. The one that opened the door.
Chang Cheh's oddest. Five styles, five masks, one whodunit.
A detective investigates random killers who all say God ordered it. It goes somewhere insane.
A samurai returns to stop the massacre he could not prevent the first time. Shot in real snow.
An undercover cop infiltrates a high school drug ring. Reefer, hot rods and Jerry Lee Lewis.