Plot: A group of college students squat in an abandoned hospital to make it through the financial strain of higher education. Alas, someone in their midst has unleashed an unholy terror linked to the locations lurid past.

I guarantee you the brief description above is not only better than the whole of this movie, but also carries more plot than you'll see unfold as this feature dreadfully crawls through its blissfully short runtime. To anyone familiar with Full Moon Pictures (or, depending on what era,  Productons/Studdios/Entertainment/Features), this should come as no surprise. Full Moon made their name in the game by pumping out a broad assortment of movies into video stores in the 90s. To say that they varied wildly in quality is an understatement. In fact, at its best, Full Moon's product was deeply flawed but fun and serviceable as a pastime. At it's worse, however, they barely qualified as movies. 

Shrieker was a film that came out as their most productive era was winding down and, boy, it shows. What you have here is a poorly executed slog of repetition and piss poor humor. They don't even bother to exploit the fairly decent looking titular creature for the lowest form of entertainment (the kills). Nope, this movie is bereft of any creativity. It most definitely isn't high art (but nobody was expecting that) but, most egregiously, it fails miserably to provide anything but the bare minimum of effort in ANY department. 

There is not much to be said about this other than the likely would of been more well-served to call it Stinker instead of Shrieker. Don't even bother. 

The first release of the revived Hammer Studios under the supervision of the John Gore Organisation, Doctor Jekyll is a film that was acquired for distribution rather than produced in-house. Despite this, it absolutely fits the vibe of the old school Hammer films that resided in the middle to lower tiers of public opinion. That is to say, it is appropriately gothic, somewhat simple (though at times unnecessarily convoluted), strongly cast, and constantly juggling its positives with its negatives. Indeed, like most of those movies, it provides an enjoyable way to spend an hour and a half if not much else. The real downside is that, while the Hammer films of old didn't feel like much of a loss when they weren't all out winners, Doctor Jekyll definitely feels like it could of been quite memorable with a few tweaks. 

Though set in modern times, the locations and costuming are very fitting of a Hammer film. Same goes for the flirtation with humor and the use of a number of memorable musical pieces. The gothic drama oozes even as the violence keeps the gushing to a minimum. For fans of the novella on which this is based, be assured that (in true Hammer style) plenty of creative changes to the source material abound. All these things make for a very interesting foundation for a good hour of the film's runtime but, as aforementioned, the wheels truly come off when its time to cinch all the details together. A real shame because it was so close to touching glory. 

Of utmost note is Eddie Izzard's performance as the titular character. To say that she is engaging is an understatement. The surrounding cast is also very complementary to her talents and in setting up a real sense of mystery (even for a familiar a structure/tale as this one). Let's make this clear, it is not Eddie and her acting ilk that fail the audience, it is the film's rather messy third act that undoes a lot of their good work. In fact, a lot of things that seemed solid or promising at one point or another in the story also waver as the third act lurches toward its unfulfilling end. The ultimate reveal is clumsy and nowhere near as clever as the setup suggests it will be. In fact, it only raises questions of logic and shines a bright light on plenty of plot holes or just weak storytelling decisions. The actors do their best and prove to be the saving grace that makes you not outright curse at how it all came apart. It truly feels like an ending that made absolute sense in some creative's mind but, because of that, doesn't land with the viewers.

Still, if you're a Hammer fan, you're likely used to the occasional "almost there" flick. Even if you're not, it's worth a watch should it come across your desk, if only to see what could of been had they knocked out the home stretch. I liked SO MUCH in this movie that the discombobulated resolution really threw me out of the loop. Even now, I desperately want to love it. Alas, I can not. Izzard shines, there are moments of great promise, and it is not horrendous in the least. Truly, its a great shame that so many ideas and concepts feel oddly "unrounded".  

We all know the song and dance, "don't disturb the mummy's tomb because it will unleash a curse". Been there done that, but movies like 1999's The Mummy prove that a stale formula doesn't necessarily spell doom. Alas, this entry into the sub-genre achieves none of that. The setup is as generic as you'd expect for a mummy movie but it immediately loses any familiar charm by sticking the audience with a gob of unlikable characters (portrayed by godawful actors, no less) for an interminable amount of time during which the "plot's" progress is as slow as the mummy's shamble. Speaking of shambling, this might as well be a walking and talking simulation. That we DO get, in spades. That's all fine and dandy but the script/dialogue is somehow worse than the actors that deliver it and so we are thrust back to square one.

Bad movies can be fun, you retort. To which I say, this is as dull as the sands of Egypt.

The plot is stretched thin, so everything between the intro and the big finale is insipid filler. Worse, despite having a panoply of players to use as cannon fodder in the meantime, the movie delays the carnage till the end. Yup, you've seen this before in poor horror pictures (Anthropophagus comes to mind): a group of people in an unfamiliar place wander endlessly whilst spewing drivel until ONE interesting (read: "shocking" or "gory") thing happens. Slap some credits on it, hint at that scene on the poster, and call it a day. 

Dawn of the Mummy was never destined to be high art but it had the tools to be a romp. Unfortunately, it is driven by ineptitude in front and behind the camera. It takes a special kind of failure to make what looks and feels like an Italian-flavored exploitation flick into a boring dud. Like the aforementioned Anthropophagus, Dawn has a set piece that stands out and makes it somewhat memorable. When the mummy action comes to a large wedding feast at the end, you get what is basically pseudo-Fulciesque shenanigans. Only, unlike Fulci, these people spent too much time not earning the big blowout. And, just so you know, it's not worth the wait. 

Dawn of the Mummy is the type of cult film that makes you question the taste of an entire group of people. There is certainly a place for high camp or low brow stuff. Trash can be entertaining, this has been proven many a time. This, however, lacks charm, lacks humor (unintentional or not), lacks personality, lacks plot....I could go on. In short, avoid this stinker. This is for completionists (or masochists) only. 

The first Pumpkinhead has rightfully earned its place as a cult favorite but it is no wonder that the follow-up is largely disregarded by most. Directed by Jeff Burr (Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III, Stepfather II), the film seems more concerned with failed visual flair and typical teenage slasher bloodshed than fomenting any sense of wonder or righteous indignation like its predecessor. Also stripped away in the process: the unique and foreboding location and atmosphere, the concern for continuity, or any sense of restraint. 

Burr litters the production with an array of camera movements that he surely thought were stylish but end up being laughably woeful and downright cumbersome. Sam Raimi he is not. Worse, he has no sense of how to shoot the titular creature or any other makeup effects in a manner that retains their efficacy. Instead, we get scene after scene presented in wide shots and drenched in light. While the Pumpkinhead suit looks fairly decent, the choices made to feature it do it no favors. This is especially true when the director doesn't realize the importance of scale. The real victims of this directorial slight are this movie's crone (which may or may not be the first movie's witch) and her adoptive offspring, a deformed hybrid of Pumpkinhead and a man. The makeup is fully exposed and rendered utterly ineffective in every single scene that features them. 

Still, a good script coupled with a strong cast can save many a perilous production from plunging into the depths. Well, don't hold your breath because these might just be the worst elements. The dialogue is among some of the most groan-inducing I have come across in a LONG while. Blunt, dumb, and desperate to prove how "clever" it is, every line is an eye-roller. Structurally, the script robs the movie of the "mystery" we are seeing unfold so any vested interested (especially given how awful everything is) goes out the window. As for the people delivering these mind-numbing lines...oh boy. Andrew Robinson is the only capable actor in this mess, he stands out amidst his peers but, as a result, he inadvertently puts a spotlight on how comparatively dreadful they are. Even so, Robinson has a hard time making any of his lines work because, well, they stink. 

The flick also makes the unadvisable mistake of demystifying the creature (and the hag) by giving them some sort of redemptive qualities. More capable writers could of possibly made this angle work but those types did not linger around this production. Add to all this lower production values, a cheap look that screams direct-to-video schlock (which it was), and a soundtrack for the dogs and you have an entry best forgotten. 

Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings lacks any of the mystique and vibe of the original but it also fails to effectively ply any of the elements it brings into the mix. It seems utterly unconcerned with any sense of quality and, much like its effects, the chinks in the armor are plain to see to even the most casual of viewers. AWFUL. 

Ed Hardy (Lance Henriksen) is a simple man, but when a group of city folks bring death into his midst revenge devours him. Luckily (or unluckily), memories from his childhood point him in the direction of a crone that wields the dark secret to an unstoppable vehicle of vengeance. A creature known to the locals as...PUMPKINHEAD! 

Even long after his passing, Stan Winston remains renown for his outstanding work in special effects. The multitude of wonders that he brought to life will forever be lauded in the annals of film history. Unfortunately, his directorial efforts were not as numerous as his achievements in effects work. Pumpkinhead is his feature length directorial debut and the strongest of his two efforts in that field. While his subsequent feature is best forgotten, Pumpkinhead remains a worthy entry into a genre that, despite initially being overlooked, has since garnered a well-earned cult following. 

Released in the waning days of the 80's (when effects and gore heavy horror was all the rage), you can almost run a checklist on the film.  Yes, an impressive special effect lurks about. Yes, the urban/rural clash thematic abounds. Yes, youths meet their ghoulish doom at the hands of some gruesome evil. And yet, Pumpkinhead defies the a lot of the standards of the era despite openly flirting with them. 

Our lead character is a grown man, not the seemingly requisite teenager of most 80's genre fare. In turn, the youths are nuanced instead of outright good or evil. There is also little fondness for slasher tropes and the film carries with it an almost southern fried fairy tale structure that fits very well with the morality tale vibes. It also is quiet restrained in its scenes feature the titular creature, where most pictures of the time would of reveled in excessive violence. The results are a delightful mixture of visual exuberance and dirty, Southern gothic. 

Pumpkinhead evokes something of a forbidden mood with its setting but it never alienates the audience. Instead it invites them into the journey the heartstricken Ed Hardy and the tragic group that afflicts his life. They are bound by a moment and what that moment unleashes into the world and, once again defying normalcy, populate the world with sympathetic characters all around.

Where lines between human protagonists and antagonists are blurred, evil is very clearly defined in the form of the otherwordly Pumpkinhead and the backwoods crone that summons him. So much so that there will be no mistaking that this is a morality play of the oldest sort but played for an American audience. Yet another way Pumpkinhead flirts with standards and yet carves a path of its own. 

We'll never know if Stan Winston could of churned out more work of this caliber if he'd continued to haunt the director's chair but what remains true is that Pumpkinhead stands out as a clear sign that his talent transcended his field of expertise. It remains a cult classic that feels every bit the definition of the term. 

It will forever remain a mystery to me why Bill Paxton's directorial debut not only went under the radar upon it's release but has firmly remained there ever since. Now, to be fair, this is not to suggest that it hasn't garnered a cult following of loving supporters but, even then, it feels like it is always flirting with any form of just recognition. The cast is bristling with talent, the direction is rock solid, and the script is clever and engaging. Despite having its feet firmly planted in the horror genre, the film hasn't ever been given a boutique label release which much lesser films have been granted. A damn shame, really. 

Set in Texas and told through the voice of a sympathetic narrator (played by Matthew McConaughey), the film unveils a tale of two brothers whose simple life is dramatically overturned when their father claims they have been given a holy task by God himself. Alas, this task is so foul that familial bonds become the source of great despair and the very impetus for the narrator to speak out long after their gruesome deeds. 

There is something of a melancholic and hauntingly isolated atmosphere to the film that does well to set the viewer firmly in the role of listener and, ultimately, proves to a great advantage when all is revealed. The movie deftly handles the various lanes it plays in (be that of a serial killer picture or a family drama/tragedy or a psychological horror film and so on), further leading its audience where it wants them. And where exactly is that? Well, to an ending that proves both satisfying and oddly unsettling in the way it conjures up some of the more disturbing elements of Biblical lore. 

The less said, the better for any potential new viewers but, aside from some moments that might feel a bit repetitive, Paxton (who also takes on the role of the boy's father) and company offer up a film that proves quite versatile. It's worth mentioning that there's admirable restraint exhibited that lesser talents would have tossed aside in preference of more bloodthirsty trappings. Indeed, Frailty proves to be a measured piece which, unfortunately, might have been enough to render it largely ignored upon release. Yes, the cult is growing but it's due time that it grows further. Let's hope God demands it. 

Reporter Sue Charlton (Linda Kozlowski)  heads to the Outback to track down the mythical Mick "Crocodile" Dundee (Paul Hogan), who purportedly survived a croc attack and crawled his way back to safety, only to quickly find out that the tales are tale in the land down under. However, the truth is a lot more wild than any legend. Soon, the two find themselves flirting with danger (and each other) and it is not long before Mick finds himself a fish out of water in Sue's home of New York. Hijinks ensue.

Love it or hate it, one thing cannot be denied about this 80's comedy and that it packs a wallop with its incredibly charming lead actor, Paul Hogan. The rough charisma practically oozes off the screen, quickly endearing him to the viewing audience. Not to suggest that the supporting cast are a bunch of slouches. On the contrary, Kozlowski comes off as a strong, assertive female lead while never losing any of her feminine appeal. Mick's motley crew of Aussie lads are a gas, and the panoply of colorful New York archetypes ensure that Hogan has a lot of fodder for one-liners. 

One could criticize the movie by pointing out that it is basically a series of sketches loosely held together by a simple conceit but, really, that's what let's its star shine. The movie is at times a comedy, at others a romance, and even dabbles in a bit of action-adventure. It seems perfectly at ease with wallowing in quirky scenarios as it does with pleasantly meandering about it's two larger than life locations (the aforementioned New York and Australia). More importantly, it always feels like you could of sat through more of what you saw and it never outstays its welcome. 

Modern audiences might wince at some of the dated social politics but even that is disarmed by Hogan/Dundee's easygoing charm. In short, it's easy to see how almost every character in this movie likes the ol' guy. Not an easy task to accomplish as a writer but it's pulled of quite well here. Crocodile Dundee is a movie that is very clearly of its time but its strong, eponymous lead has a timelessness to him that briskly sweeps it in to cult classic territory. 

The movie was a fun time then and it remains one even now. 

George A. Romero changed the face of horror in 1968 with a low-budget indie entry that overcame its inherent restrictions with its sharp sociopolitical subtext, a bristling tension throughout, and imagery that, especially at the time, flew in the face of the comperatively threadbare spook material Hollywood had to offer. That film was Night of the Living Dead and it has, rightfully so, gone down in the annals of cinema history. It would be a decade later (and with much anticipation from the viewing audience) that he would revisit the world of the living dead and make as big an impact. 

On the surface, Dawn of the Dead is an in-world continuation of the narrative established in the first movie but immediately you know you're in for something larger than you bargained for. For one, Romero's ability to world build and create a sense of scope and urgency is truly admirable. Out the gate you get a sense of the colossal nature of what's happening and its effects on the world. Things we once held dear are crumbling, disregard for the thinly-veiled facade of order is rampant....survival is paramount. All this effectively communicated in a small series of set pieces that belie the true enormity of it all. Partly the result of a still small budget and partly a clever use of restraint, Romero weaponizes a newsroom and a tenement building to gives us a horrifying peak into mankind falling apart at the seams in the wake of the uncanny. This is a world where even the sanctity of death means nothing, where fear is king, where all we held dear no longer matters....

It is here that we meet our extremely likeable cast. Four souls thrown together in the chaos, looking for a way out. More importantly, four actors that bring across the personalities of these characters so well that we can't help but feel at home with them. This is key to the winning formula of the film, as we spend a good amount of time in their company as they scratch out a sort of comfortable life in the midst of madness when they come across one of the old meccas of consumerism...a shopping mall. Promising comfort and convenience, this edifice slowly goes from safe haven to a prison that robs these survivors of their humanity and inherent desires and hopes. No one claws at each other's throats, no...they realize that they may go out with a whimper instead.  

Romero, expertly draws a parallel between the dead, who linger in the halls of commerce because some vestige of their mind clings to those shallow pursuits, and the living, who slowly wither the more they rely on the comforts they fight for even in this apocalyptic landscape. It's bleak but it's also whimsical at times, as Romero peppers the script with plenty of tongue in cheek humor. Better yet, moments of simple and relatable interaction between our leads keep the light of hope alive in a world that is no longer theirs for, yes, this is truly about the dawn of the living dead. No longer are they a thing for the fleeting night. Instead, a disturbing permanence thrums throughout every moment in the film. 

To help this all along we have the creative work of Tom Savini's make up effects crew that give the titular dead their very unique appearance. Something of a ghastly grey-green pallor takes the up a notch from the plainly human ghouls of Night and a step before the decayed monstrosities of Day of the Dead. The kills are creative at times, heartbreaking at others, and even downright thought-provoking but always digestible (pun intended) because of the garish palette chosen by the effects team and exacerbated by Michael Gornick's rich, colorful cinematography. In short, this movie walks a tight rope between comic book violence and vibrant hellscape. 

There are some rough edges in Dawn of the Dead but they seem more to help the endeavor than hinder it. There is a powerful charm to Romero's work.  On a purely instinctual level, it draws viewers less keen to detecting its satirical edge. For the more analytical, the film delivers in spades with its metaphors, themes, and humor. In short, Dawn may be rife with the dead but it's a mirror of the living. 

An absolute masterpiece, then and now.