Leave it to Tobe Hooper to turn an alien invasion into a two-hour cosmic tit show, complete with naked space vampires, exploding Londoners, and enough sexual electricity to fry the entire British power grid. Mathilda May spends most of the movie gloriously naked, sucking ...

There are filmmakers who know how to write dialogue, and then there's Martin McDonagh, who turns verbal jousting into an Olympic sport. His characters don't simply exchange words. They lob insults, dodge truths, and deliver observations with the precision of  ...

SPACE IS A GRAVEYARD, BABY! AND MARIO BAVA JUST DUG UP THE BODIES! Forget NASA. Forget mission control. In 1965, Italian horror maestro Mario Bava strapped a bunch of international actors into black leather spacesuits, blasted the ...

What the hell do you do after leaving the greatest rock band in history? Take up gardening? Open a pub? Spend the rest of your life reminding strangers that you wrote “Yesterday”? ...

Hungry, hungry fucking hippos! That's the pitch, that's the attraction, and frankly, that's about all the justification I need. Give me a bunch of unfortunate bastards, a body of water, and several tons of pissed-off hippopotamuses with absolutely no interest in sharing the ...

Somewhere beneath a self-storage facility, a biological nightmare that should have stayed buried has decided humanity has had a pretty good fucking run, and now it's time to clear the shelves. Cold Storage is a gloriously deranged little bastard of a movie, the kind of  ...

There's a scene in Luc Besson's Dracula where the Count tears through a convent full of nuns, leaving absolute carnage in his wake, before their bodies rise into a swirling spiral toward the heavens. Holy fucking shit. It's one of those moments where you sit there staring at ...

There's something inherently suspicious about a guy who heads into the middle of nowhere to find himself and brings enough camera equipment to document every fucking second of the experience ...