The Pit (1988) directed by Lew Lehman

Jamie is a horny, but disturbed, pre-teen who can’t make friends thanks to his general oddball behavior. The neighbors, local kids, sexy librarians, and sweet teachers all know he’s a freaking weirdo, but his dimwit parents leave him in the care of the cute college girl (with the football player boyfriend) while they go on a trip. Did I mention that Jamie’s only “friend” is a stuffed bear named “Teddy” that speaks back to Jamie in his own voice? And that former babysitters haven’t lasted more than one round with this kook?

It doesn’t take long before Jamie fixates on new babysitter/psychology student Sandy, and is soon leering at her panties, watching her while she sleeps (complete with nip slip), and gets angry when she talks about her football player “friend.” If only Jamie had access to a woodlands pit filled with troglodytes that feasted on raw meat he could purchase from the local butcher. What’s that you say? How long can Jamie possibly afford to purchase meat from the butcher under the guise of shopping for his mother? Won’t he eventually have to resort to more nefarious means?

Why, yes! He will! And that’s what makes the first hour of this weirdo slice of sinema so effectively bonkers. Jamie is a total psycho that we’d all hate if we encountered him in real life. But watching him run out of options and lure his enemies to the pit makes the flick wonderfully outrageous—for about an hour. Unfortunately, screenwriter Ian A. Stuart and director Lew Lehman run up against a wall. Jamie’s troglodytes escape from the pit and roam the countryside for a bit, only to be hunted down by a lame posse.

The film finally ends—in wonderfully NIGHT GALLERY-esque fashion—but along the way I suffered a bad case of what my friend Joe described as “movie whiplash.” In other words, it’s great, but then it’s not, but then it’s great again. — Dan Taylor

Jack's Back (1988) starring James Spader and Cynthia Gibb

For a little over three months in 1888, the serial killer known as Jack the Ripper stalked the East End of London, murdering five women. The killer was never caught, and the mystery intrigues armchair sleuths to this day. 100 years after Saucy Jack’s reign of terror, a copycat killer is piling up victims in Los Angeles and the cops are baffled. Could it be John Wesford (James Spader), the nice doctor who works at the clinic headed by abusive jerk Dr. Tannerson?

When a clinic patient turns up butchered, Wesford becomes the prime suspect, and the case is closed when he dies in an apparent suicide. But, what’s this? John has a bad-boy twin named Rick (also Spader), who sports an earring, has a scar on his face, and had a vision of his twin brother being murdered!

Rick’s amateur sleuthing complicates things for the police (including the always great Chris Mulkey) but also sets him up as a possible suspect—even though they’ve already assumed John was the killer. Teaming up with John’s colleague Dr. Christine Moscari (Cynthia Gibb), Rick sets out to avenge his brother’s death and prove his innocence.

The directorial debut of Rowdy Herrington (whose sophomore effort would be the incredible ROAD HOUSE), JACK’S BACK is a bit of a mess that’s saved in large part by Spader (no surprise that Herrington worked with him two more times). The “copycat Jack the Ripper” angle gets tossed early on and anyone with half a brain will ID the killer the moment they appear. Still, the performance shows why Spader has been a mainstay of film and television for the last four decades. — Dan Taylor

Ghosthouse aka La Casa 3: Ghosthouse (1988) written and directed by Umberto Lenzi

During a lifetime of film viewing, I have made it a habit to always finish a movie. I’ve only walked out of two films (A FINE MESS and REVENGE OF THE NERDS 2) and have spent countless nights going back and finishing flicks that have repeatedly put me to sleep out of some strange sense of “journalistic integrity” (I’m looking at you, HOUR OF THE ASSASSIN starring Eric Estrada).

So, it struck me odd that when I flipped on Umberto Lenzi’s GHOSTHOUSE (directed under the pseudonym Humphrey Humbert), I had the sneaking suspicion that I’d seen it before. The opening scenes of doll-inspired violence, the dorky ham radio operator hearing strange pleading and screams … it all seemed familiar. 

But as the film progressed—and reached a moment where someone freaks out because there’s a decapitated head tumbling around a clothes dryer—I decided that I must have visited GHOSTHOUSE and never returned. Because I know one thing about me—I would have definitely finished a movie with a head in a dryer.

Unfortunately, what follows is a pretty pedestrian, late 80s Italian horror film that tries to ape the haunting stylishness of Dario Argento while also attempting to paint the screen read ala Lucio Fulci. Alas, you can’t have it both ways.

Paul and his girlfriend Martha (who resembles a pretty version of Maggie Gyllenhall) hear the aforementioned pleading and screams and decide to investigate. They eventually arrive at the infamous Baker house, where the film’s tragic opening scenes occurred. There they meet up with fellow ham radio dork Jim, his siblings Tina and Mark, and Susan, Mark’s girlfriend. Mayhem ensues when Jim gets killed by a possessed fan (echoing the sounds heard over the radio by Paul and Martha) and Tina is attacked by creepy caretaker Valkos.

Eventually, the two groups split up, with Paul and Martha investigating the home’s history while Tina, Mark and Susan stick around the house where they encounter demon dogs, possessed campers, faucets that flow with blood, and a basement pit filled with skulls and deadly goo.

It’s all pretty stupid and confusing, but the music by Piero Montanari and a fast-paced last half-hour make up for the slog of the first hour. — Dan Taylor

Slaughter High (1986) produced by Dick Randall, starring Caroline Munro

From Dick Randall and Stephen Minasian—the geniuses behind such trash classics as PIECES and DON’T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS—comes this bonkers high school revenge tale complete with Brits awkwardly trying to play Americans and Harry Manfredini phoning it in with a recycled FRIDAY THE 13th score.

SLAUGHTER HIGH (filmed under the title APRIL FOOL’S DAY) opens at a high school where a group of “teens” prank Marty, a poor nerd whom they abuse and humiliate. Not content with scarring the poor kind emotionally, they give him a laced joint and sabotage his science experiment—resulting in actual scarring and disfigurement. (Tragically, Simon Scuddamore, who stars as Marty, committed suicide shortly after production wrapped. SLAUGHTER HIGH is his only credit.)

Fast forward 10 years and the pranksters—including 35-year-old Caroline Munro and the peep show girl from DON’T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS—return to the clearly-not-American high school for a reunion only they were invited to. It doesn’t take long before an unknown killer starts taking revenge for their abuse of Marty, offing them with poisoned beers, tractors, and electrified bed frames.

Despite the obviously English setting, total lack of any mystery, and the courageous attempts at American accents, SLAUGHTER HIGH is a sleazy slice of 80s trash complete with the nudity and gore missing from more big-budget genre entries of the day. — Dan Taylor

Wolf Man (2025) directed by Leigh Whannell, starring Julia Garner

Under normal circumstances this would have strictly been a "wait for streaming" release. But I was itching to see something that wasn't a revival, and I didn't have a NOSFERATU or THE BRUTALIST in me.

It's hard to believe this paint-by-numbers horror outing was conceived by Leigh Whannell, the guy who created and wrote SAW (not my favorite franchise, but at least it had an interesting concept) and was the writer/director behind the decent INVISIBLE MAN adaptation from 2020. (Though, as Ryan pointed out, that film succeeds more because of Elizabeth Moss than anything else.)

Stay-at-home dad Blake, his ambitious/never around journalist wife Charlotte, and their annoying daughter travel to Oregon after Blake’s father is officially declared dead. Seems ex-military, hardcase, loner nut dad has been missing for a while, and they need to go clean out his off-the-grid farm. Did I mention the nearby woods are purported to be home to some kind of manimal that Blake and his dad encountered when he was a kid?

ANYWAY… Blake has gone soft and gets himself bit by said manimal, so Charlotte has to kick into protector role, etc. The plot lurches along to the telegraphed conclusion, occasionally pausing for moments of ridiculous horror movie hilarity, but not the good kind of horror movie hilarity.

As the teenager in the lobby told his friend afterwards, “it was aight, I’d rather been watching MUFASA”. — Dan Taylor

Black Roses (1988) directed by John Fasano

This was one of those heavy metal horrors that somehow flew under my radar for the last, oh, 37 years. I blame the dumb looking VHS box.

After an opening sequence in which a band of monster musicians (the titular Black Roses) bang the heads of a bunch of teens, the film shifts to Mill Basin, a sleepy midwestern town where nothing ever happens. Matthew—a groovy high school teacher who sports a Magnum PI ‘stache, wears acid-washed jeans and sorta flirts with a female student—tries to connect with his students by being hip to their teenage vibes. A multi-night concert by Black Roses raises the ire of the conservative townsfolk, but they’re quickly swayed by smooth-talking frontman Damian and the lame new wave schtick they perform.

Once the concerned parents approve of the band, it’s heavy metal mayhem as the REAL Black Roses turns the kids into rude, inconsiderate and downright homicidal cretins. Luckily, Matthew sees past Damian and the band’s façade and decides to, uh, burn down the theater where they’re performing their final Mill Basin concert.

BLACK ROSES is dumb as a box of rocks, but enjoyable in an “it’s Saturday night and I’m three movies in with some adult beverages” kinda way. — Dan Taylor

HARBINGER DOWN (2015) starring Lance Henriksen

Inspired by Universal’s decision to ditch StudioADI’s practical effects work on the 2011 prequel to THE THING, HARBINGER DOWN can pretty much be summed up as THE THING MEETS DEADLIEST CATCH, which was what I was hoping for going in.

Sadie and Ronelle are grad students on an expedition to study climate change and its impact on whales. Along with their professor, Stephen, the pair ventures out on Harbinger, a fishing boat run by Sadie’s crusty pop-pop, Graff (national treasure Lance Henriksen) and his multinational crew. While attempting to capture whale sounds or something, Sadie and the crew manage to retrieve a Russian lunar lander that crashed in the frigid waters back on June 25, 1982 (a tip of the cap to John Carpenter’s classic THE THING).

Upon inspection, the students deduce that the Soviet cosmonaut on board died of an unknown infection, possibly due to the mutant tardigrades that were carried back to Earth and are now infecting various passengers. Eventually, they discover that not everyone is as they seem, and the survivors must locate a series of explosives intended to sink the ship.

HARBINGER DOWN was funded in part by a Kickstarter campaign begun by writer/director Alec Gillis. After discovering that his practical effects for THE THING (2011) had been replaced by CGI, Gillis was encouraged by the response to online videos that showcased what he’d done for that film as well as other creature effects (check out his filmography for his extensive list of credits).

While it’s not going to make you forget seminal genre classics like ALIEN or the aforementioned THE THING, HARBINGER DOWN is a fun, fast-paced creature feature I didn’t regret seeking out. — Dan Taylor

Virtual Combat aka Grid Runners (1995) starring Don "The Dragon" Wilson and Michael Bernardo

High concept meets low budget in this bonkers mishmash of virtual reality, cyborg hunting, video games, and martial arts tournaments from director Andrew Stevens (whose mom, Stella, pops up as our hero's virtual assistant).

The charisma-free Don “The Dragon” Wilson stars as David Quarry, a “Grid Runner” who protects the borders in a slightly futuristic vision of the western United States. One of the fringe benefits of Quarry’s gig is unlimited use of a virtual reality system overseen by Dr. Cameron (old-time movie star Turhan Bey). But while Quarry’s partner John (Ken McCleod) enjoys the fruits of cyber-sex, the by-the-book Quarry prefers to battle martial arts opponents in a virtual reality tournament he can never quite win.

But things get real when Dr. Cameron discovers a way to use a tub full of neon slime to bring the virtual creations to life. When Cameron’s boss sees what the goo can do, he immediately has him create two of the cyber-babes in order to make a fortune selling obedient sex slaves to rich weirdoes. What Cameron doesn’t know is that the goo has also unleashed Dante (Michael Bernardo), Quarry’s unbeatable adversary from the dreaded Level 10, who has designs on bringing his fellow VR baddies into this world.

Will Quarry defeat Dante and his minions before its too late? Can a Grid Runner find true love with a virtual reality sex-bot? Why does slightly futuristic Las Vegas look just like it did in 1995, except everybody has an oversized flip phone? How come Dante sounds just like the Klingon from STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION? And, wait, was that the disembodied head of Rip Taylor?

You’ll barely have time to ponder these questions as VIRTUAL COMBAT zips along from one ridiculous scene to the next and efficiently wraps itself up in 87 minutes. – Dan Taylor

Der Schwarze Abt (1963, aka The Black Abbott) starring Klaus Kinski, Joachim Fuchsberger, Eddi Arent

If you're a Klaus Kinski fanatic, you're bound to become a krimi watcher. It's impossible to neglect this crucial, early chapter in his career, which includes close to two dozen films made during the 1960s. THE BLACK ABBOTT (aka DER SCHWARZE ABT) is one of Klaus's earliest krimi appearances, falling between THE BLACK COBRA (DIE SCHWARZE KOBRA) and THE INDIAN SCARF (DAS INDISCHE TUCH), all 1963.

Most, if not all, the krimis I've seen – and my exposure has been admittedly sparse – have been of the "whodunit" variety, with a masked or unseen figure carrying off a spate of crimes that leave sleuths of the professional and amateur type scratching their heads. Red herring after red herring is laid at the viewer's feet until everything comes careening together in a last-minute unmasking that's filled with twists, turns and the inevitable revelation of false identities.

It's no wonder these flicks give me a headache.

The plotting is typically dense despite their compact running times, background info on characters is often sketchy and picked up on the fly, and you'd need a scorecard to keep track of the intertwining relationships of everybody involved. THE BLACK ABBOTT is no exception, though it's far less of a "whodunit" than it is a thriller packed with traditional krimi elements.

Krimi regular Joachim Fuchsberger (DER HEXER's Inspector Higgins) stars here as Dick Alford, cousin and administrator to Lord Chelford (Dieter Borsche), the last lord of Fossaway Manor. When hunter Mr. Smooth gets offed by the hooded Black Abbott in the film's pre-credit sequence, Inspector Puddler (Charles Regnier) and comic relief assistant Horatio Smith (omnipresent Eddi Arent) arrive in order to get to the bottom of things.

Naturally, there's no shortage of villains and nefarious types to choose from. There's Gilder (Werner Peters of THE THOUSAND EYES OF DR. MABUSE), a blackmailing corporate secretary leading a double life as a bookie who lusts after Leslie, the sister of his employer, Arthur Gine (Harry Wustenhagen). Gine, of course, is a degenerate gambler who has unwittingly paid hundreds of thousands of pounds to Gilder through the years and also happens to be embezzling from the Chelford fortune. Mary Wenner (Eva Ingeborg Scholz) is a heartless gold-digger with designs on becoming Lady Chelford so she can get her hands on the legendary Chelford treasure.

Alford is no prince, either. He's up to some kind of shenanigans with his cousin's physician, Dr. Loxon (Friedrich Schoenfelder) all the while taking horseback rides and long walks with Leslie Gine (Grit Bottcher), his cousin's intended. Got that? If so, maybe you can explain it all to me.

Last, but certainly not least, is Kinski as Thomas Fortuna, the detached, almost robotic butler of Fossaway Manor. A whimsical smile dancing across his lips, the role of the butler who is more than he appears to be is perfectly suited to Kinski's icily superior air. In one of my favorite exchanges in the witty script, Lord Chelford informs Fortuna that "The more I see you the more I dislike you" to which the butler replies, "I regret, my lord, that my face annoys you."

As I said, THE BLACK ABBOTT is less a whodunit than a thriller with Lord Chelford slowly but surely embracing his paranoia about everybody and descending into complete madness. Mary and Gilder team up to search for the hidden treasure while the rest of the cast (or so it seems) starts hanging around the estate's gravel pit. And not one but two Black Abbotts appear along the way, with neither being the red herring I suspected.

I don't like divulging plot details, especially when it comes to krimis, so I'll end it there. The flick looks great, all crisp black and white with a splash of red thrown in at the beginning and end credits. The clever script by Johannes Kai and director Franz Josef Gottleib is a tad convoluted, but that's to be expected when compressing one of Wallace's novels into an 88-minute running time, and prolific composer Martin Bottcher does a nice job of contemporizing the staid pastoral setting with his funky score.

As for Klaus, I dug this performance more than his turn in 1961's DEAD EYES OF LONDON. He's condescending while at the same time deferential and his head often seems too big for his body, making him resemble a walking bobblehead. – Dan Taylor

Dan Taylor dug Klaus Kinski back before it was cool to dig Klaus Kinski.

Creature from the Hillbilly Lagoon (2007) starring Andrew Vellenoweth, Tanith Fiedler

I've never hidden my affection for mutant monster flicks or nature-run-amok cautionary tales. Whether it's a big-budget spectacle like JAWS, a B-movie rip-off in the PIRANHA vein, or even a straight-to-video attempt such as Brett Piper’s under appreciated THEY BITE, I'm always in the mood for a bit of good-natured creature-on-the-loose horseplay.

Unfortunately, that can frequently lead to watching stuff like the endless tedium of AQUANOIDS, the over-hyped LAKE PLACID, or 2007’s CREATURE FROM THE HILLBILLY LAGOON. Thought it sports great box art of a mutant monster about to attack a bodacious, beer-hungry backwoods hunny, the flick will quickly have you longing for the relative subtlety of a Troma flick.

Way over-plotted for something called CREATURE FROM THE HILLBILLY LAGOON, the flick opens with two redneck workers drinking Piels (is that even made anymore?) and goofing off. Naturally, Cooter—the more mentally-challenged of the pair—gets coated with toxic goo and tries to wash it off in the creek.

Enter the team of old-looking college students that includes such stock issue characters as the skinny dork, hard-bodied gay dude, and shy but hung "hero", plus two broads with some of the most hideous tattoos I've ever seen. Led by their wheelchair-bound professor (who appears to be about the same age), the students are there to chart the local eco-system and figure out why it has changed so dramatically—almost overnight. The simple answer is that exposure to the toxic crud is turning everybody who comes into contact with it into crazoid fish freaks. 

Unfortunately, the filmmakers weren't content with that simple, effective plotline and overload things with a student who turns out to be a corporate security officer, a "cleanup crew" there to take care of the fish creatures and students, a hillbilly girl with a weird fish fucking fetish, rogue scientists, bad puns, references to the bad puns, a mutant fish monster in a dress serving tea, fish creature rape, and a sea (sorry) of angry, mutating fish people.

On one hand I'm glad that people are still making schlock like this. But I really wish CREATURE could make up its mind and decide what it wants to be. Is it going to be funny? Scary? Bloody? Titty? Unfortunately, it ends up being such an overambitious, directionless hodgepodge of all the above that it's hard to care about the flick on almost any level. — Dan Taylor