Boardinghouse
The first shot-on-video horror feature, blown up to 35mm and just as ugly as that sounds.
519 entries. Curated, not exhaustive. A short shelf of things worth knowing about beats a long one nobody can navigate.
The first shot-on-video horror feature, blown up to 35mm and just as ugly as that sounds.
H.G. Lewis hands the gore to a real biker gang. The acting is a crime; the piano wire is the point.
Shot-on-video German splatter so homemade you can smell the garage. Ittenbach's Herschell Gordon Lewis tribute act.
Ninety minutes of restrained Shaw revenge, then twenty of rotting-corpse insanity.
Chang Cheh spills more guts here than in any Shaw film before it, and grins the whole way.
A drunk man accidentally orders a hit on his own wife, and it is all downhill from there.
The Indonesian one everybody means: a flying witch's head, viscera trailing, hunting in the dark.
Herschell Gordon Lewis signs off with a meat tenderiser and a gag about chocolate milk.
A stage magician whose tricks are real. Lewis's most interesting idea.
Anthony Wong versus the world, armed with a virus and no impulse control.
The fake snuff film that got Charlie Sheen on the phone to the FBI.
Mexican horror at the gore end: a gorilla-heart transplant, real surgery footage, and a masked lady wrestler.
A parasite gives a young man euphoric highs in exchange for feeding it brains. Addiction as horror.
Lewis finishing his gore trilogy. A painter, and his pigment source.
Body piercings, a penis monster, and Lemmy on narration. Troma's actual masterpiece.
Buttgereit's necrophilia sequel, prosecuted on arrival, and stranger than the first.
The Japanese splatter movement at full arterial pressure, from the man who built it.
Troma's toxic high school, second only to Toxie. Exactly as stupid as you want it to be.
A live-action gore manga where nobody has heard of restraint or arterial pressure.
Anthony Wong won Best Actor for this. Then you find out what goes in the pork buns.
People melt in primary colours. Tasteless, inventive, weirdly beautiful.
The first gore film. Barely competent, historically unavoidable.
A man rebuilds his dead girlfriend from the parts of exploded sex workers. Exactly that stupid, and great.
Stan Winston effects and a good twist. Underseen.
Abel Ferrara's debut. More interesting as a document of downtown New York.
H.G. Lewis, a Southern town, and gore effects that predate everyone.
Texas Chainsaw with a French accent and a swastika over the door.
Savini's effects, Spinell's performance, and a very bleak little film.
A flamethrower and a meat grinder. Death Wish with the restraint removed.
$35,000, shot on 42nd Street, and completely charming. The best kind of cheap.
German, banned widely, and much sadder than its reputation suggests.
Sixty-seven minutes of industrial nightmare. Nothing else looks like it.
Herbert West builds a woman from parts. The sequel goes bigger, wetter and more demented.
Stuart Gordon and Jeffrey Combs do Lovecraft again. A machine that lets you see what should stay unseen.
The French extremity wave stripped to one room, one night, and a pair of scissors.
Miike hands out sick bags at the premiere and earns every one of them.