Boardinghouse
The first shot-on-video horror feature, blown up to 35mm and just as ugly as that sounds.
479 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.
Ninety minutes of restrained Shaw revenge, then twenty of rotting-corpse insanity.
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.
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.
Anthony Wong won Best Actor for this. Then you find out what goes in the pork buns.
A man rebuilds his dead girlfriend from the parts of exploded sex workers. Exactly that stupid, and great.
People melt in primary colours. Tasteless, inventive, weirdly beautiful.
The first gore film. Barely competent, historically unavoidable.
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.
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.
Troma's only good film, and the head-crushing is still funny.
Shot at weekends over four years by Jackson and his friends. Astonishing.
Punk soundtrack, running zombies, and the film that invented 'BRAINS'.
Where the effects and the writing finally matched. Jeffrey Combs is perfect.
Jackson before the trilogy. The lawnmower scene ends the argument.
The bleakest Romero. Bub is the only sympathetic character in it.
A shopping mall, four survivors, and Savini's finest hour.
Remake and sequel at once. Raimi discovers slapstick and never looks back.
Prosecuted in Britain. Actually a comedy, though it took years to admit it.