This is true horror: alienating someone until they are somewhere between human and animal, fighting to survive, un-buffered by the comforts of others.
"The Skeleton Dance," a five-minute Disney short from 1929, contains everything I look for in a horror movie today: it's weird, old, uncanny, and unselfconsciously terrifying.
When Mia Farrow, Frank Sinatra, and Rosemary's Baby collide.
There is no justice in this world—only random, inscrutable, bizarrely scripted bouts of misery, punctuated by random bursts of black humor and liberally applied plot holes. In this way, perhaps, life is just like Wishmaster 2.
It (1990) was pure wish fulfillment on a certain level—a personal message from a former isolated nerd to all us other nerds who simply wanted life to be different than it really was.
Zombie films always held a special place in my childhood.
Still, Supernatural is not really about supernatural things, even if there’s a monster of some kind in every episode.
Certain films, though, are doomed to fall somewhere in the middle of the spectrum: neither beloved enough to be investigated to the nth degree, nor reviled to the point of being fascinating.
