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Wes Craven’s New Nightmare (1994)   I’m all for the idea of Wes Craven’s New Nightmare. Post-modern, self-reflexive, fourth-wall-breaking movies are catnip to me (why, I even liked The Matrix Resurrections!) It’s just that New Nightmare isn’t a very good one. It’s quite watchable for the first hour, but Craven made a multitude of bad choices here. And it’s telling that, prior to my excursion into all things Elm Street, I’d only seen the first instalment and this; as it turns out New Nightmare’s lore was equally discriminating (okay, I might give you Dream Warriors, but try parsing how it makes any difference). Craven’s like a bear

A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child (1989)   The main takeaway from A Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child, found in post-mortems and general hindsight, was that its box office was so poor (less than half that of its predecessor) because it failed to offer the fans what they wanted. I’ll be the first to admit the premise isn’t a great one, or a very original one (hearkening back to the demon offspring cycle, spanning Rosemary’s Baby to The Omen), but it’s at least attempting to stretch itself, for all that director Stephen Hopkins’ approach is decidedly scrappy and the dream

Duel (1971)   I don’t know if it’s just me, but Spielberg’s ’70s efforts seem, perversely, much more mature, or “adult” at any rate, than his subsequent phase – from the mid-80s onwards – of straining tremulously for critical acceptance. Perhaps because there’s less thrall to sentiment on display, or indulgence in character exploration that veered into unswerving melodrama. Duel, famously made for TV but more than good enough to garner a European cinema release the following year after the raves came flooding in, is the starkest, most undiluted example of the director as a purveyor of pure technical expertise, honed

A Nightmare on Elms Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987)   It’s easy to see why the third movie in this franchise proved such a big hit. It both boosted the inventive dream sequences/kills in a no-brainer way – Freddy’s Revenge is more than a little “Doh!” in that regard – and added to the lore. More astutely still, it made Freddy Kreuger a quip-meister, from whence his reputation was sealed. But what’s most notable, perhaps, is the manner in which, rather than simply piling on the set-piece deaths the way Jason Voorhees was wont, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors apes the form of

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)   You can’t read a review of Assault on Precinct 13 with stumbling over references to its indebtedness, mostly to Howard Hawks. That was the preface when I first caught it on Season Three of BBC2’s Moviedrome (I later picked up the 4Front VHS, below). In Precinct 13’s case, such couching can feel almost like an attempt to undercut it, to suggest it isn’t quite so commanding or original, actually, because: look. Even John Carpenter was entirely upfront about his influences (not least Hawks), and that he originally envisaged it as an outright siege western (rather than an, you know,

Videodrome (1983)   I’m one of those who thinks Cronenberg’s version of Total Recall would have been much more satisfying than the one we got (which is pretty good, but flawed; I’m referring to the Arnie movie, of course, not the Farrell one). The counter is that Videodrome makes a Cronenberg Philip K Dick adaptation largely redundant. It makes his later Existenz largely redundant too. Videodrome remains a strikingly potent achievement, taking the directors thematic obsessions to the next level, one as fixated on warping the mind as the body. Like many Cronenbergs, it isn’t quite there, but it exerts a hold on the viewer not dissimilar to

Crimewave (1985)   A movie’s makers’ disowning it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s nothing of worth therein, just that they don’t find anything of merit themselves. Or the whole process of making it too painful to contemplate. Sam Raimi’s had a few of those, experiencing traumas with Darkman a few years after Crimewave. But I, blissfully unaware of such issues, was bowled over by it when I caught it a few years after its release (I’d hazard it was BBC2’s American Wave 2 season in 1988). This was my first Sam Raimi movie, and I was instantly a fan of whoever had managed to translate the energy and

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)   I first saw A Nightmare on Elm Street a little under a decade after its release, and I was distinctly underwhelmed after all that hype. Not that it didn’t have its moments, but there was an “It’ll do” quality that reflects most of the Wes Craven movies I’ve seen. Aside from the postmodern tease of A New Nightmare – like Last Action Hero, somewhat maligned/shunned – I’d never bothered with the rest of the series, in part because I’m just not that big a horror buff, but also because the rule that the first is usually the best

Scanners (1981)   David Cronenberg has made a career – albeit, he may have “matured” a little over the past few decades, so it is now somewhat less foregrounded – from sticking up for the less edifying notions of evolution and modern scientific thought. The idea that regress is, in fact, a form of progress, and unpropitious developments are less dead ends than a means to a state or states as yet unappreciated. He began this path with some squeam-worthy body horrors, before genre hopping to more explicit science fiction with Scanners, and with it, greater critical acclaim and a wider

Halloween (1978)   John Carpenter’s original slasher. Or at least, the movie that began the seemingly endless cycle. I have to admit, however, that while I recognise Halloween’s stripped-down effectiveness and visual elegance, its persuasively insistent score and the engagingly antic presence of Donald Pleasance’s prophet of doom – representing scientific reason! – I don’t rate it as highly as some of the director’s lesser known or regarded pictures. It’s worth noting some of the different takes on the picture, both in terms of praise and refutation, and how they actually end up saying many of the same things. Carpenter and

Q – The Winged Serpent (1982)   In which an ancient Aztec god dupes a significant portion of the American – nay, global –population into inaction and so exacerbates mass depopulation. Decapitation optional. It’s curious how a letter can be appropriated and so become almost exclusively associated with one thing. X has obviously had several variants (rays, Files, certificates), but prior to QAnon, the seventeenth letter was probably most identified with tips, Spike Milligan or an abbreviated question. And also, trailing the pack by some considerable distance, this: Q – The Winged Serpent. Commissioner McConnell: You are talking about the incarnation of

The Final Conflict aka Omen III: The Final Conflict (1981)   Twentieth Century Fox remained broadly steadfast in their quality-be-damned approach towards sequels (and remakes) through various changes in management. Occasionally an Aliens would happen, but more common was the template established by Planet of the Apes (chuck out cheap sequels; miraculously, several of these were quite good). So it was most certainly the same studio that gave us The Final Conflict and, much later, A Good Day to Die Hard (from the director of The Omen remake). In many respects, Damien: Omen II appeared to be a functional sequel, dutifully following the inventive kill count of its predecessor, but it’s a

The Blood on Satan’s Claw aka Satan’s Skin (1971)   One of the era’s great lurid horror titles – its unhinged company also includes Blood Beast Terror, Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter and the astonishing Zoltan, Hound of Dracula – The Blood on Satan’s Claw, perhaps surprisingly, stands the test of time better than many of its stablemates. It relies less on by-then-established Hammer-esque staples than it on an atmospheric exploration of a community disintegrating from within, not a million miles from The Crucible in malignancy. Rather different in approach, however. Here, the surface is ripped away to reveal an unnerving patch of hairy skin beneath. Doctor: Ah, there are

Damien: Omen II (1978)   There’s an undercurrent of unfulfilled potential with the Omen series, an opportunity to explore the machinations of the Antichrist and his minions largely ignored in favour of Final Destination deaths every twenty minutes or so. Of the exploration there is, however, the better part is found in Damien: Omen II, where we’re privy to the parallel efforts of a twelve or thirteen-year-old Damien at military school and those of Thorn Industries. The natural home of the diabolical is, after all, big business. Consequently, while this sequel is much less slick than the original, it is also more engaging dramatically. Kim

Quatermass and the Pit aka Five Million Years to Earth (1967)   The last and best of Hammer’s Quatermass adaptations, in no small part due to Andrew Keir taking over lead duties from Brian “bladdered” Donlevy. But mostly because this is by far Nigel Kneale’s best script for his professorial protagonist. Which means that even Roy Ward Baker’s so-so direction cannot prevent Quatermass and the Pit from remaining fresh, vital and thought provoking. Quatermass: “The figure was small, said Mr Parker. Like a sort of hideous dwarf.” The antecedents to and subsequent influence of Kneale’s trilogy capper (he had to go and turn it into a quadrilogy…)

The Omen (1976)   The coming of the Antichrist is an evergreen; his incarnation, or the reveal thereof, is always just round the corner, and he can always be definitively identified in any given age through a spot of judiciously subjective interpretation of The Book of Revelation, or Nostradamus. Probably nothing did more for the subject in the current era, in terms of making it part of popular culture, than The Omen. That’s irrespective of the movie’s quality, of course. Which, it has to be admitted, is not on the same level as earlier demonic forebears Rosemary’s Baby and The Exorcist. In which regard, horror

Quatermass 2 aka Enemy From Space (1957)   Quatermass II or Quatermass 2? Since it says the latter on screen and the former on the poster, I’ll tip towards the latter. Nigel Kneale penned this adaptation himself, so he’s responsible for eliminating vast chunks of the – superior, natch – TV version, most notably the trip to an alien planet and ninety percent of the doppelganger intrigue/paranoia. Nevertheless, this remains a highly engaging picture. Once again, that’s in spite of the presence of gangster-style Brian Donlevy in the title role. Perhaps tailoring the character to the actor, or just throwing up his

The Quiet Earth (1985)   I had in mind that I first happened upon The Quiet Earth in a season of Moviedrome, as it seems exactly that kind of offbeat fare However, according to BBC Genome, while it was first shown on BBC2 in the UK, it was in 1991, much later than I thought, and in a 9pm slot. Geoff Murphy’s movie bears all the strengths and failings you associate with a cult SF picture: low budget, variable performances and writing/plotting, but also inspired ideas and, in its depiction of an all-but deserted world, the kind of verisimilitude a big studio budget

The Dead Zone (1983)   I wouldn’t call myself a Stephen King fan, or particularly a Cronenbuff, although there’s material I rate by both (and in the latter’s case rate very highly). The Dead Zone arrived at the onset of a glut of King adaptations, and as Kim Newman and Alex Jones suggest on the Blu-ray commentary, it was the first adaptation of his work to publicise itself foremost as a King piece (published in 1979, it was his first hardback to hit Number One on the bestseller list, which may partly account for it). Which isn’t to say it doesn’t feel

It Couldn’t Happen Here (1987)   “I think our film is arguably better than Spiceworld” said Neil Tennant of his and Chris Lowe’s much-maligned It Couldn’t Happen Here, a quasi-musical, quasi-surrealist journey through the English landscape via the Pet shop Boys’ “own” history as envisaged by co-writer-director Jack Bond. Of course, Spiceworld could boast the presence of the illustrious Richard E Grant, while It Couldn’t Happen Here had to settle for Gareth Hunt. Is its reputation deserved? It’s arguably not very successful at being a coherent film (even thematically), but I have to admit that I rather like it, ramshackle and studiously aloof though it is. Lowe: Where are

The Monster Squad (1987)   My reluctant response to The Monster Squad at the time of its release was that it wasn’t quite as clever or funny as I wanted it to be. The promise of The Goonies meets Ghostbusters with (effectively) the Universal horror monster roster only sporadically delivered on its potential (not that The Goonies and Ghostbusters are as funny as they want to be either, but you get the idea). I still think that’s the case, albeit now recognising the additional pleasures of nascent Shane Black stylings and obsessions, and the dedication of Fred Dekker in creating an aesthetic that sits comfortably with the pictures its riffing

Jaws 2 (1978)   Being a luddite in my formative years (doubtless continuing to this day), I didn’t readily discern the qualitative difference between Jaws and Jaws 2 until much later. Indeed, in some respects, I think I found Jaws 2 more impressive. Well, the manner of dispatching the shark, anyway. That was, of course, nonsense (although, the dispatching of the shark is pretty good and is even set up with a Chekov’s Undersea Power Cable in the first act). But Jaws 2 isn’t a bad sequel, certainly in an age before such enterprises were awarded due respect and weren’t just cheap cash-ins. During the ’70s, there were cheap cash-ins,

It aka It Chapter One (2017)   Imagine how pleased I was to learn that an E Nesbitt adaptation had rocketed to the top of the US charts, evidently using a truncated version of its original title, much like John Carter of Mars. Imagine my disappointment on rushing to the cinema and seeing not a Psammead in sight. Can anyone explain why It is doing such phenomenal business? It isn’t the Stephen King brand, which regular does middling-at-best box office. Is it the nostalgia factor (’50s repurposed as the ’80s, so tapping into the Stranger Things thing, complete with purloined cast member)? Or maybe that

Christine (1983)   John Carpenter was quite open about having no particular passion to make Christine. The Thing had gone belly-up at the box office, and adapting a Stephen King seemed like a sure-fire way to make bank. Unfortunately, its reception was tepid. It may have seemed like a no-brainer – Duel’s demonic truck had put Spielberg on the map a decade earlier – but Carpenter discovered “It was difficult to make it frightening”. More like Herbie, then. Indeed, the director is at his best in the build-up to unleashing the titular automobile, making the fudging of the third act all the more disappointing. Christine was the

Fright Night Part 2 (1988)   So ingrained on my memory is the trailer for Fright Night Part 2 – I can only assume it was a regular on rental releases at the time – that I’d half recollected it being for the original, rather than a flick I’d never seen. Until now. I probably shouldn’t have bothered, for while Fright Night has modest charms, its sequel is all but bereft of them, and so – getting back to the point of my first sentence – entirely at odds with its trailer, which makes it seem even broader, wackier and funnier than the first.

Vamp (1986)   My affection for Vamp is only partly based on the adorability therein of Dedee Pfeiffer, in what might be the closest she’s come to a starring role. Ostensibly an entry in the resurgent vampire-comedy genre (Fright Night, The Lost Boys), Vamp actually slots more effortlessly into another ’80s subgenre: the urban-nightmare comedy. We’d already had Scorsese’s masterful After Hours and John Landis’ knockabout Into the Night, and writer Richard Wenk’s big screen directorial debut shows a similar knack for throwing its protagonists in at the deep end, up against an unfamiliar and unfriendly milieu. Having recently revisited Fright Night, I can readily attest Vamp’s superiority, even if

Twin Peaks 3.1 & 3.2: The stars turn and a time presents itself.   Well, Lynch hasn’t lost it, that much is clear. Not his marbles, which he never had, of course, but his capacity for weirdness, hilarity, discord and the outright disturbing, all of which are brewing away potently in Season Three of Twin Peaks. What’s most striking, though, and something I’ve occasionally found a detraction from his work, is that the presence of Mark Frost ensures there’s a lucid narrative thread upon which to hang his strange fascinations. It means that, even when we go on a diversion into

Aliens (1986)   (Special Edition) Aliens immediately became my favourite movie when I first saw it. It was a heart stopping roller coaster ride, and I didn’t want to get off. So much so, when it was over I instantly rewound the video tape and watched it again. James Cameron transformed the slow-burn atmospherics of Ridley Scott’s haunting original into an all-out attack/slaughter by/of xenomorphs; as the tagline announced, “This Time It’s War”. I can’t really apologise for having preferred it to Alien; it was simply a more accessible, adrenalised, edge-of-the-seat, air-punching experience. Time, hindsight and repeat viewings can change a lot;

Alien (1979)   Alien is a masterpiece. You could end the conversation right there. Even the plague of sequels, and versuses, and prequels, have failed to diminish its essential magnificence. It’s still the film that (with one other) maintains (Sir) Ridley Scott’s legacy as a great director, whatever else he does (and he does a lot) to malign it. I should probably leave it at that, but then this piece would be a touch on the brief side. Most student theses on Alien (and there must be tens of thousands out there, with numbers rising by the minute) will witter on earnestly about the picture’s

It Follows (2015)   David Robert Mitchell’s unstoppable horror has received rounded acclaim, even embedding itself in Sight and Sound’s hallowed Top Twenty of 2015 list. It’s certainly an effective, confidently-directed latest incarnation of the relentless boogeyman, heavily indebted to John Carpenter (complete with retro-synth score from Disasterpeace) but also bringing its own psychosexual component (a bit like Cronenberg but shorn of the grue). In other words, it’s no wonder Kim Newman loved It Follows. To the extent that there’s nothing new under the sun, I’m not entirely sure the kudos heaped on the picture in terms of its exploration of

Star Cops 1. An Instinct for Murder   I know it’s a cardinal crime, but I do actually like the Star Cops theme song. It’s both cheese- and synth-tastic and quite melancholy, which fits the show. I also think it suits the titles nicely, which are still quite evocative and creative (especially the astronaut’s space boot in the moon dust too). An Instinct for Murder is rather an ungainly opener, probably the side effect of creator Chris Boucher compressing an opening two-parter into just the one episode. I hadn’t revisited the series (which can currently be found in its entirety on YouTube) since the ’80s, but

Dead of Night (1945)   The classic British horror film, made before there really were British horror films, Dead of Night is something of an anomaly. It has been hugely influential, both in the legacy of portmanteau horror that came after and in terms of specific sequences (most notably The Ventriloquist’s Dummy) but it has few obvious predecessors. It arrived fully formed from a studio that hadn’t before, and wouldn’t again, make a picture that could be classified as horror (not that it was at the time). Also curiously, Dead of Night was released two days after the end of World War II, yet makes no