BADass SINema Unearthed - Where we dig up blu-rays of the wild, weird, and wonderfully wicked world of classic grindhouse cinema. Celebrates the raw energy and unapologetic style of vintage exploitation films — from the slick swagger of Blaxploitation and the lurid allure of sexploitation to the gnarly thrills of monster mayhem and cosmic horror.
Some films whisper their intentions, films that seduce you with craft, and then there’s Scum of the Earth!, which grabs you by the collar like a chain‑smoking uncle at a family reunion and hisses, “Kid, lemme tell you how the world really works.” This is Herschell Gordon Lewis before the gore geysers ...
If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if a struggling artist swapped out acrylic for arterial spray, Color Me Blood Red answers with a grin slicked in plasma. Directed by the undisputed godfather of splatter, Herschell Gordon Lewis, this is exploitation cinema stripped to the bone and then dipped ...
“Thank God for Black & Decker!”Go ahead and start laughing now, because with that line one proud member of Force: Five — a supposed elite squad of martial arts experts (a term I use loosely, even if the cast is stacked with legitimate combat sports talent) — locks this film into the hall of fame of ...
There are horror movies you watch with the lights on, and then there are horror movies you watch with a drink in your hand, muttering, “Oh no, no no no,” as if you’ve just realized the babysitter is in a cult. The Wicker Man is firmly in the second category. This is not the bees-and-Nicolas-Cage ...
If Herschell Gordon Lewis treated narrative like a polite suggestion in his splatter cycle, he outright hog-ties it and throws it down a ravine in Moonshine Mountain. This one isn’t just backwoods horror-adjacent—it’s a full-throttle hillbilly hallucination, shot like the cameraman ...
When the blood-red sun dips below the Mason-Dixon line and the television glow turns nicotine-yellow, that’s when Two Thousand Maniacs! kicks in like a jug of rotgut passed around a Confederate séance. Directed by the gleefully unhinged Herschell Gordon Lewis, this 1964 splatter ...
Some films whisper their intentions, films that seduce you with craft, and then there’s Scum of the Earth!, which grabs you by the collar like a chain‑smoking uncle at a family reunion and hisses, “Kid, lemme tell you how the world really works.” This is Herschell Gordon Lewis before the gore geysers ...
There are films that influence horror, films that shape horror, and then there’s Blood Feast, which doesn’t so much “shape” anything as it kicks down the door of the American cinematic psyche wearing a butcher’s apron and a grin that says, “You paid 75 cents for this, sucker ...
“I have had it with these monkey-fighting snakes on this Monday-to-Friday plane!” Oh, we are not playing this one straight. Buckle up. When I borrowed that gloriously neutered TV edit line for the opener, you knew exactly what altitude we were flying at. This is not prestige cinema. This is cabin-pressure ...
They came from beyond the stars. They crave your blood. And they’re hungry for brains. It’s Ed Wood by way of Mel Brooks! Let’s get this out of the way: Vampire Zombies… from Space! is exactly the kind of movie that knows the word “subtle” and throws it out an ...
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