Back when I was a broke post-college graduate living in downtown Albany, I engaged in a film education event with my friend Jason, said "event" being nothing more than introducing films the other hadn't seen but that, in our infinite 20-something year old wisdom, deemed excellent.  For the life of me I can't recall what film I might have recommended (probably something old...Jason, if you're reading this and remember I'd love to know), but I distinctly recall the two films Jason recommended to me: RAPA NUI, the Easter Island romantic adventure, and MR. FROST, a film whose concept seemed right up my alley but which, alas, was no longer in print.  We watched RAPA NUI (decent) and never got to MR. FROST.

Fast-forward 12-13 years, and thanks to the power of Netflix's Watch Now, my fervent dreams of finally seeing MR. FROST were about to come true.

Although he's made several in the years since, TENEBRAE (or TENEBRE) marks the last of Dario Argento's run of truly great giallo films, arguably starting with his debut THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE in 1970.  Filled with Argento's common themes of sexual confusion, identity and vision, lushly and luridly photographed, and boasting a stellar soundtrack by 3/4 of the members of Goblin, who scored Argento's last two films (DEEP RED and SUSPIRIA) as well as George A. Romero's classic DAWN OF THE DEAD, TENEBRAE is a grisly but stylish film, serving as a great introduction to all of Argento's strengths as a filmmaker.

Being a parent means dealing with dozens of different things a day.  It's confusing, ecstatic, maddening - sometimes all at once.  All in the name of that tiny little life you're now responsible for. GRACE, a disturbing little horror film from Paul Solet preys on those feelings - I cringed with the weighted memories of my son at that age during some of the more graphics moments - but the film takes that feeling of being a parent further - it tries to say something about feminism, veganism, and alternative lifestyles, all while telling a gruesome story about the lengths a mother will go to for her baby.  But while multi-taking and being able to handle a dozen things at once is a necessity for any parent, in a film - especially a horror film, it can be more than a bit distracting.

It almost took a decade, but somehow the planets aligned, money was found, and Don Coscarelli brought the twisted horror of the Tall Man back for PHANTASM II.  In large part thanks to the financial successes of 80s horror franchises like FRIDAY THE 13TH and NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET Universal decided to foot the bill, betting on the iconography of Angus Scrimm's Tall Man and his nefarious metal spheres to cash in at the box office.

NOTE:  MARTYRS is a film that works best if you go in completely fresh.  So I'm going to keep things as brief and spoiler-free as possible.  The best thing to do is just stop reading this review, check out the film, and come back, provided you have the stomach for it. 

When it comes to horror films, there are those that make you scream and laugh at the same time, and when you leave the theater you have a smile on your face.  It may have grossed you out, but it was all in good fun.  There are plenty of good, scary films like that, and that's perfectly okay.  But there's another type of horror film, the one that creeps under your skin and festers, never really going away, making you scratch and tear at your skin because it's just so unsettling.

MARTYRS is a lot like that.  It deals with some pretty disturbing subject matter, and crafts a brilliant jewel of a film that constantly keeps you off balance, working as an outright horrific story, a crazed thriller, and a meditation on guilt, vengeance, and enlightenment.  It's also one of the most brutal films I've ever seen, making each act of violence so gut-churning the last thing you're going to want to do is laugh.

Five years may have elapsed since people last set foot in Camp Crystal Lake, but it only took a year in the real world for Paramount to capitalize on the success of FRIDAY THE 13TH and launch a sequel.  Working on the same things that made the first such a success (scantily clad women, gory and gruesome deaths involving creating uses of various tools), FRIDAY THE 13th PART 2 is a prime example of what's become a sort of staple for horror sequels: namely, "second verse, same as the first."

Nazi Zombies.  Should I be disappointed or proud that it took humanity this long to make a movie featuring Nazi Zombies?  And how on God's green Earth did the Norwegians think of it first?

On the surface DEAD SNOW is your run-of-the-mill "kids in the woods" movie.  A group of medical students on Easter break head up to an eerie cabin in the woods where they do what any fun-loving Norwegians would do: cavort in the snow, drink beer, and make out.  One night they're visited by a grizzled old camper who chastises them for not reading up on the local history: apparently a nasty regiment of German soldiers terrorized a series of towns, raping and killing and stealing all the valuables they could carry.  The villagers eventually banded together and chased the regiment out into the woods, where they supposedly froze to their deaths.  Or did they?

Most of what I know about Mario Bava comes from reading: the grandfather of Italian Horror, creator of the giallo genre and a prime influence on generations of filmmakers, among them Dario Argento, who would go on to refine and bring the genre to a legion of fans worldwide.  But my practical film experience with Bava was limited to BLACK SUNDAY, admittedly a masterpiece of mood and a great movie to boot, but not really indicative of what I was about to see in BAY OF BLOOD, aka TWITCH OF THE DEATH NERVE.

You might have noticed a bit of a trend here: I'm trying to alternate between older, vintage films and some of the newer releases.  I also want to try and make some of these more concise, so pardon if things feel a little awkward at first.

Although, watching DEADGIRL, a small independent film that made a splash at last year's Fantastic Fest, awkward would be a relief.  DEADGIRL is an ugly, twisted film that goes to places that what passes for "Torture Porn" films like the HOSTEL and SAW movies only dream of traveling to.  Rickie and J.T are two low-life high school students who decide to skip school during a fire drill to chug some beers and cause a little trouble down at the abandoned old mental institution.  The name of the movie comes from what they find stuck down in the place's basement: a filthy, emaciated young woman, chained to a table and covered in a transparent tarp.  She moans, moves - she's alive.

Man do I miss the 70s.  Remember when people wore mustaches?  And I don't mean those sparse wisps of hair that look like they've been applied with dabs of saliva that are popular right now - I mean thick, Tom Selleck "I-mean-business" mustaches, the kind that will look after you in a bar fight and lend you a fiver when you're short for the next round.

Mustaches don't have a lot to do with RAW MEAT (also known as DEATH LINE), a crazy little film about a series of disappearances in a London subway system, but they're there, on the face of the first character we see, a gentleman in nice clothes and a bowler hat ducking in and out of various strip clubs while the film's score throbs like a seedy porn soundtrack that's been left in the dirt for too long, buzzing and pulsing with an ominous low-end.  It's also on the face of Christopher Lee, who puts in a cameo as an MI5 operative who comes to warn Inspector Calhoun (Donald Pleasence) off the case of the missing man, who it turns out is a powerful figure in the English government.  They're there, and it's just another piece of the pie that makes RAW MEAT such a hilarious treat of a movie to watch.