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While other countries tried to duplicate Hollywood’s success by lifting ideas wholesale, Japan’s approach to cinema was similar to their modernization in general, cherry-picking elements that had broad appeal but retaining their distinct cultural identity.  Unlike Italy which relied heavily on exports playing throughout Europe, Japan’s relatively closed market meant that were making films mostly for themselves.  And their attempts at the burgeoning gothic horror genre in the 1960s stand as unique expressions of common folk tales amplified by new cinematic techniques  The Ghost of Yotsuya  (1959) is a curious mix of chanbara – or samurai film – and straight-up monster movie.  First performed as a kabuki play, the film remains a very set-bound, staged production for almost the entire running time as it tells the story of Oiwa, the scorned wife of Tamiya who leaves her to marry into a more successful family.  But after Oiwa’s death, her spirit returns to punish all those responsible for h

The term “instant classic” is obscenely overused in today’s Letterboxd film review culture.  Usually once the short-term enthusiasm for a particular release runs out of steam it settles into a more realistic “average” historical perspective.  But  Trick ‘r Treat  (2007) has, if anything,  improved  its reputation in the horror community since its premiere (on video, no less) 17 years ago.  A dark, gruesome and funny Halloween anthology, writer/director Michael Dougherty captures the essence of the holiday on screen in a way few other films ever have.   Bouncing between five different conjoined stories in the town of Warren Valley, Ohio, there’s an elementary school principal hiding a dark secret, a quartet of party girls looking for fresh meat, an urban legend prank gone wrong and a Scrooge-like Halloween hater who gets his comeuppance.  Meanwhile, the framing device introduces us to Sam, a pint-sized trick or treater who takes the holiday’s traditions  very  seriously.   Based on Doug

The original wave of J-Horror was a short-lived affair in its home country, growing out of the DTV market and capitalizing on the success of  Ringu  to launch a flurry of phantasmagorical spirits and supernaturally enhanced technology.  By the time Hollywood sent those same tropes boomeranging back to Japan the bottom had essentially dropped out of the genre.  But that time  in between  produced a number of interesting variations collected in Arrow’s limited edition Blu-ray box set  J-Horror Rising , a four-disc affair that gives proper exposure to lesser-known titles produced at the turn of the millennium. Shikoku  (1999) stars  Kill Bill ’s Chiaki Kuriyama as one part of a ghostly love triangle (she’s the ghost) brought back to take physical form and wreak unholy vengeance.   Isola: Multiple Personality Girl  (2000) mixes psychic powers, mental illness and spiritual possession as a woman tries to exorcise the meddling spirit of a dead scientist.   Inugami  (2001) is a tragic bit of f

Let’s be honest, it’s starting to feel like one of the Cenobites most ingenious torture techniques is seeing how many times they can convince fans to buy a new copy of the same movie.  Few horror franchises have had more releases in the boutique video era than  Hellraiser  and its disparate sequels…outside of the  Evil Dead  (Anchor Bay took up a whole shelf with that one) or maybe  Texas Chainsaw  (there’s probably a new 4K in the works as we speak).  But it just goes to show the longevity of Clive Barker’s creation and its unique standing in the overstuffed horror community.  Even 27 years later, there’s still nothing else quite like it. Once hailed as “the future of horror” by none other than Stephen King, few would have predicted Clive Barker’s debut as a director, not to mention his transgressive approach to horror itself, would have such broad appeal.  (Meanwhile, King is  still  apologizing for  Maximum Overdrive ).   Hellraiser  still impresses as a uniquely twisted gothic horr

While everyone praises a film that is timeless, those that are  of their time  an inevitably more interesting. And  Hollywood 90028  (1974) occupies a singular moment of L.A. cinematic history written by the early generation of UCLA film school grads; an urban desert of sleazy peep shows and dashed artistic aspirations populated by Midwest transplants looking to make it big.  Director Christina Hornisher’s obscure addition to this tragic catalog was sold as a sexed-up piece of violent exploitation (and retitled  The Hollywood Hillside Strangler  and  Twisted Throats ) but this low-budget effort is really anything but.   Mark (Christopher Augustine) is a frustrated filmmaker shooting dirty movies to pay the bills, unable to put together a highlight reel that will get him out of the celluloid gutter.  Michele (Jeannette Dilger) is on the other side of the camera, ashamed of her “performances” but lured by the easy money.  Their connection is surprisingly sweet and a delicate courtship fo

For those old enough to have lived through the hair-metal to grunge changeover, there was a lot of griping about how the new generation just didn’t know how to have fun anymore.  Flannel, feedback and self-pity were a poor substitute for the live-for-today, gratuitous charm of the previous good time rock n’ rollers.  It’s a valid argument and one that can also be applied to cinema at the time: glossy ‘80s action heroes shooting their way through music video warehouses finally gave way to self-referential hitmen whose banter was the only thing on their highlight reel. But director Mike Mendez seems to want to have it both ways.  In  Killers , a late-to-the-game riff on Tarantino’s post-modern serial killer craze, he reimagines the Menendez Brothers (here they’re the James Boys) as gun-toting celebrities who choose the wrong house to break into.  That’s because the Ryan family, despite their  Leave it to Beaver  wholesome appearance, are  themselves  a gang of bloodthirsty psychos with a

Now that terms like  kaiju  and  giallo  have become common in film culture, it’s about time we add  krimi  to the ever-expanding foreign film dictionary.  Shorthand for the German mystery-thrillers mostly based on the work of Edgar Wallace in the ‘60s, it’s a sub-genre that combines the complex plots of Agatha Christie with a liberal amount of eyebrow-raising sex and violence.  And 1967’s  Creature with the Blue Hand  is a doozy of a place to start, with identical twins, a mysterious asylum, family secrets and a vicious piece of medieval weaponry (the titular “blue hand”) that gets its fair share of use before the credits roll.   Klaus Kinski plays the dual role of Richard and Dave Emerson, the latter of whom has been institutionalized for the murder of the family gardener.  But Dave has always pleaded his innocence, and upon escaping from the asylum he promptly assumes the role of Richard to gather information on his accusers.  It all comes down to a challenged inheritance, but will