If you’re into “Splatterhouse Cinema” that respects its elders and tenderizes human bodies without remorse, Joe Begos has a pile of discarded corpses waiting for you. It’s vile, slick with repugnance, and appropriately inhumane. A canon full of guts blasted straight into your face – the Fangoria way.

Like the characters that are drawn to the peculiar sound and dark sky on that fateful evening, The Vast of Night is a film that lures the audience’s attention to the screen and will leave you wanting more films from Patterson down the road.

There’s plenty of grisly stuff here, and a lot of it is done practically, which might entice some gorehounds. But that can only go so far. Pesce’s The Eyes of My Mother has ten times less gore than this and still managed to be ten times as scary. Here’s hoping he gets back to making something like that, and soon.

On one hand, it’s a treat to watch Sandler break out of his endless stream of bargain-basement Netflix comedies to try something like this. On the other hand, by the time the journey ends, you might want to watch one of those terrible comedies just to cleanse your palate.

It can at times feel sentimental and mawkish — an inevitability of adapting the classic story — but no other film in 2019 has conveyed as much ineffable joy, or been such a testament to the human spirit.

Willem Dafoe isn’t delivering one of his all-time performances, but he’s also not phoning it in. And these are, truly, good dogs. Togo is content in showing you those good dogs, and not much else. It’s a decent enough way to spend two hours, but only just.

Its premise is ridiculous, its entire appeal based on the novelty of having a bunch of Lycra-clad strangers thrust their hips at you in the dark. Hooper creates something just as bizarre with his Cats, though not as successfully electrifying. Its flashes of brilliance feel like happy accidents and its uncanny technical choices are never overcome.

There’s so much wasted potential here. As the story draws to its big, loud climax, and one fan-service moment after another arises, you begin to get the sense that Abrams is just checking off boxes and fulfilling a quota. There’s no spark; no joy; no life. If this truly is the end of the Skywalker Saga, what an ignoble end it is.

Blair made a movie that feels built to amuse himself. And I'm glad it exists. It feels like he got away with ... something.

The banal insidiousness of it all began to fill me with a type of nameless dread. Backed up by a droning, unsettling score, "Mister Organ" begins to seem like a horror movie. Organ himself seems harmless, at least physically. But he exudes a certain temperament that appears slightly off.

Skinamarink is an experience of warped mundanity, dreary moods, and repressed paranoias most prevalent in our youths, which Ball recreates with alarming intimacy. We often seek comfort in feeling like kids again, but in this case, Ball presents a monkey's paw solution brimming with supreme juvenile terrorization.

Overall, I wouldn't say Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio is a "dark" movie so much as it is a challenging one — refreshingly so, with knotty, complex questions and real peril.

Cats Don't Dance is hilarious and infectious. Dindal was clearly a student of 1930s Warner Bros. cartoons, and wasn't interested in the slick, human figures of a Disney film. He wanted to go off-model, letting the characters squash and stretch with the best of them. 

A film that ultimately feels forgettable as nothing about it, from visuals to score, finds a home in your brain (and that includes ending with a weird music video during the end credits).

If you’re looking for less fright and more fun as you tick down the Halloween season, or if you just want to see John Carpenter tell terrible puns while forcing severed heads to make-out, Body Bags is for you.

Arguably Argento's last very good to great film, Opera is awash in lush visuals, killer set-pieces, and bloody shenanigans as it riffs on its well-known literary source.

On paper, this movie should not work, but what we got was an instant classic that is eminently rewatchable and assembled one of the best funny casts ever. The energy levels of the movie are off the charts, keeping it wildly entertaining even in today's short attention span world.

It’s easily the most straightforward of Argento’s films, and that works to its advantage in delivering a suspenseful thriller with bloody, terrifically crafted murder set-pieces... and a killer reveal that’s both surprising and satisfying.

It's a reminder of when kids movies were about more than farts and wise-cracking animals, and its visuals retain their power to unsettle and unnerve.

Parents are frequently looking for transitory horror films to help bridge the gap between certifiable children's films to hard-R horror, and The Watcher in the Woods is a perfect addition.

On a scene-by-scene basis, this picture has so much to offer in terms of some fairly unhinged and wild work from a bunch of artists at the height of their powers.

Fortunately, the film doesn't attempt to turn "Yojimbo" into the first piece of an epic saga but aims to deliver another satisfying standalone samurai adventure.

If you loved Universal’s Mummy but wished it had more Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, here you go.

This isn't Bogart's best film, although it's a very fine one.  It does, however, contain by far his best performance, making it a fitting send-off as his last outing under the bright studio lights.

Arriving during Martin and Lewis' heyday, The Caddy is a fun slice of entertainment with enough wacky humor and bouncy tunes ("That's Amore!") to hold one's attention for 90 minutes.

It's the perfect blend of haunt and humor, and no matter how many years go by, it keeps us laughing — and screaming.

Song of the Thin Man is a slight improvement. It's got more laughs. And it's got an 11-year-old Dean Stockwell as an amusingly precocious Nick Jr.

Eighty years on, The Wizard of Oz still stands as an icon of craft and the power of movies. For me, the moment that still amazes the most is one of the simplest: when Dorothy walks out of her displaced house and into Oz, from sepia to Technicolor.