José Mojica Marins, Brazil’s master of the macabre, brings his signature brand of nihilistic horror to The Strange World of Coffin Joe (O Estranho Mundo de Zé do Caixão), an anthology film that revels in the grotesque and the surreal. As a showcase of Marins’ bleak, transgressive vision, it’s both compelling and frustrating—packed with striking imagery and unrelenting cruelty, yet uneven in execution.
Framed by the presence of Coffin Joe himself (played by Marins), the film presents three eerie tales of obsession, madness, and moral decay. The first segment follows a dollmaker whose unsettling creations take on a sinister purpose. The second, the most infamous, features a deranged balloon seller whose necrophilic urges and foot fetish lead to nightmarish consequences. The final tale focuses on a sadistic professor performing horrific rituals, pushing the film into full-blown exploitation territory.
Marins’ raw, almost documentary-like approach to horror makes The Strange World of Coffin Joe feel uniquely unsettling. Shot in stark black and white, with unflinching depictions of violence and depravity, the film immerses the viewer in a world of unfiltered cruelty. Yet, as with many horror anthologies, the segments vary in quality. The middle story is the most effective in its sheer audacity, while the others, despite intriguing premises, suffer from pacing issues and a lack of narrative cohesion.
Despite its flaws, The Strange World of Coffin Joe remains a fascinating entry in Marins’ filmography. It lacks the narrative strength of At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) but compensates with sheer audacity, cementing Marins’ status as a filmmaker unafraid to push the boundaries of horror. It’s not an easy watch, nor is it entirely successful, but for those drawn to the more extreme corners of 1960s horror, it’s a film worth experiencing—if only to witness the strange, twisted world of Coffin Joe at its most unhinged.
Hiroshi Matsuno’s Living Skeleton (Kyūketsu Dokuro-sen) is a curious relic of 1960s Japanese horror—an eerie ghost story wrapped in revenge thriller trappings, with a striking visual palette that occasionally outshines its uneven narrative.
The film opens with a brutal act of piracy: a group of thieves slaughter the crew of a cargo ship, including a newlywed doctor, before subjecting his wife to a horrific fate. Three years later, her twin sister is drawn into a cycle of vengeance, as the killers begin to meet ghastly ends. What follows is a surreal and often hypnotic tale of supernatural retribution, blending gothic horror with psychological unease.
Matsuno’s direction leans heavily on shadow-drenched cinematography, making excellent use of stark black-and-white visuals that give the film a dreamlike, almost otherworldly quality. The maritime setting—complete with mist-covered waters and ghostly apparitions—enhances the atmosphere, at times recalling the expressionistic horror of Onibaba (1964) or Kwaidan (1964).
Where Living Skeleton falters is in its pacing and coherence. While the film’s themes of trauma, guilt, and spectral justice are intriguing, the execution wavers between compelling and sluggish. Some sequences are drenched in atmospheric dread, while others drag under the weight of exposition. The supernatural elements, though often effective, sometimes feel more ornamental than fully realised.
Despite its flaws, Living Skeleton remains an interesting artifact of 1960s Japanese horror—one that offers ghostly thrills and a visual style that lingers. While not on the level of Japan’s finest horror exports, it’s an atmospheric, occasionally haunting voyage into vengeance from beyond the grave.
In a genre often filled with predictable scares and uninspired post-apocalyptic settings, Silent Zone manages to stand out as a surprisingly engaging action horror film. While it doesn’t reinvent the wheel, it does well to hold your attention thanks to a gripping premise, solid pacing, and some commendable performances from its cast.
Set years after a devastating outbreak that has turned the world into a desolate wasteland, the film follows survivors Cassius and Abigail, who have managed to stay alive by sticking together. Their fragile sense of safety is thrown into chaos when they encounter a pregnant woman, forcing them to risk everything on a dangerous journey to find a secure refuge. As tensions rise and threats emerge from both the mutated infected and desperate survivors, Silent Zone builds tension effectively, never letting its characters—or the audience—feel truly safe.
The film’s biggest strength lies in its performances. While action horror can sometimes suffer from thinly written characters, the central trio here delivers enough emotional depth to make their struggle compelling. The cinematography also does an admirable job of capturing the bleak, unforgiving world they inhabit, and the action sequences are staged with enough energy to keep things engaging without descending into chaos.
While Silent Zone doesn’t break new ground in the post-apocalyptic horror subgenre, it delivers enough suspense, emotion, and well-crafted action to make it worth a watch. If you’re in the mood for a tense survival thriller with a strong human core, this one is worth checking out.
SILENT ZONE (2025) will be Available on DVD & Digital in Australia & New Zealand from MARCH 12th.
In horror history, few franchises have endured such wild tonal shifts as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Kim Henkel’s The Next Generation (1995) might be the most baffling entry of them all. Written and directed by Henkel—who co-wrote Tobe Hooper’s original 1974 masterpiece—this supposed return to the series’ unhinged roots instead devolves into an exhausting, shrill spectacle, where madness replaces tension and anarchy is mistaken for horror.
The film’s only real legacy today is the early casting of Matthew McConaughey and Renée Zellweger, two future Academy Award winners whose performances stand out, but for wildly different reasons. McConaughey, as the leg-braced psychopath Vilmer Slaughter, is the one genuine source of energy in the film. He throws himself into the role with a manic intensity, chewing through scenery (and remote controls) like a man possessed. Zellweger, on the other hand, delivers a grounded, earnest performance that feels completely at odds with the film’s overblown absurdity. Watching her endure the relentless torment of Vilmer’s twisted family feels more punishing than thrilling—any sense of fun gets smothered beneath the weight of its chaos.
Henkel clearly aims to recapture the raw hysteria of the original, pushing the grotesque family dynamic to its extremes. However, without any sense of pacing or release, the film quickly becomes an overwhelming, screeching endurance test. There’s no reprieve from the relentless shouting, violence, and nonsensical plotting. Even Leatherface—one of horror’s most iconic figures—is reduced to a parody of himself, shrieking in drag and stripped of any real menace.
By the time the infamous “Illuminati subplot” emerges, with cryptic government figures suggesting Leatherface’s crimes are part of some grander conspiracy, it’s clear the film has fully derailed. What’s meant to be a meta-commentary on horror instead feels like a desperate attempt to inject meaning into an already incoherent mess.
The Prognosis:
For all its flaws, The Next Generation is at least memorable in its sheer lunacy. But as a horror film, it fails to provide genuine suspense or even dark humour—just a grating, exhausting descent into noise. McConaughey’s unhinged performance keeps it from being entirely unwatchable, but much like Vilmer’s malfunctioning mechanical leg, the film jerks and sputters without ever finding its footing.
Universal Pictures’ Revenge of the Creature (1955) sought to capitalise on the success of Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) by bringing the Gill Man back for another round of aquatic terror. Directed by Jack Arnold, this second installment in the Creature trilogy expands the story by relocating the monstrous being from the Amazon to a Florida marine park. However, while it offers moments of intrigue and spectacle, it ultimately lacks the same impact as its predecessor.
One of the film’s primary draws is, of course, the return of the Gill Man, played once again with an impressive physicality by Ricou Browning (underwater) and Tom Hennesy (on land). The creature’s design remains striking, maintaining its eerie, prehistoric allure. However, rather than being an enigmatic force lurking in the Amazon, the Gill Man finds himself trapped and studied in captivity, a premise that introduces compelling, albeit underdeveloped, themes.
At its core, Revenge of the Creature grapples with themes of imprisonment and the struggle between nature and human control. The attempt to domesticate the Gill Man, reducing him to a mere specimen for observation, evokes a sense of tragedy. While the film teases a deeper exploration of humanity’s tendency to subjugate the natural world, it ultimately favours action and spectacle over introspection.
Despite its setting shifting away from the Amazon, Revenge of the Creature still plays with the idea of nature’s untamed power. The sequences featuring the Gill Man in captivity contrast his primal instincts with the artificiality of human-made enclosures. However, where the first film used its lush, atmospheric environment to heighten tension and mystery, this sequel often feels more sterile in comparison.
While Revenge of the Creature delivers moments of suspense and underwater thrills, it lacks the haunting originality that made Creature from the Black Lagoon an enduring classic. The pacing feels more formulaic, and the horror elements are less effective, making it a serviceable but ultimately forgettable continuation of the story.
The Prognosis:
As a follow-up to one of Universal’s most beloved monster films, Revenge of the Creature is a passable but uninspired sequel. The return of the Gill Man and its exploration of captivity add some intrigue, but the film struggles to break free from the shadow of its predecessor. For fans of classic creature features, it’s worth a watch, but it doesn’t leave a lasting impression.
The late 1960s saw Japanese genre cinema flourish with kaiju epics, psychedelic sci-fi, and political allegories wrapped in B-movie spectacle. Kazui Nihonmatsu’s Genocide (War of the Insects) falls somewhere in between—a paranoid, apocalyptic thriller that mixes Cold War anxieties, biological horror, and hallucinatory madness. While its ideas are ambitious, the execution is often as chaotic as the swarming killer bugs at its centre.
The premise is instantly gripping: a U.S. military plane carrying a hydrogen bomb is taken down by an unnatural insect swarm, leaving the surviving personnel scrambling to understand the origin of this bizarre attack. What initially appears to be a man-versus-nature horror quickly spirals into an entanglement of war crimes, espionage, and human depravity.
Rather than focusing purely on the terrifying concept of killer insects, Genocide introduces a convoluted web of subplots. We have an unhinged American pilot experiencing nightmarish visions, an entomologist caught in a moral crisis, and a femme fatale with ulterior motives. Throw in anti-war messages, nuclear paranoia, and a touch of psychedelic weirdness, and you get a film that is as thematically dense as it is narratively tangled.
Unlike its contemporaries, Genocide offers little in the way of heroics or redemption. The film presents humanity as doomed—corrupt, self-destructive, and ultimately unworthy of survival. This nihilistic outlook might have been compelling if handled with a deft touch, but instead, it becomes exhausting. The lack of a clear protagonist or sympathetic characters makes it difficult to invest in the unfolding disaster.
There’s an intriguing notion at the film’s core: that the insect swarm is not merely a freak occurrence but a force of nature’s reckoning. The idea of tiny, insignificant creatures bringing about global catastrophe is an effective counterpoint to the grand scale of nuclear warfare. However, the film struggles to balance this environmental horror with its more outlandish elements, including mind control and Cold War conspiracies.
Visually, Genocide has its moments. The bug attacks, though limited by the era’s special effects, are often unsettling. Close-ups of writhing insects and eerie sound design give these sequences a skin-crawling quality. But elsewhere, the film suffers from pacing issues, awkward editing, and a general lack of cohesion.
The Prognosis:
Genocide is a film that bites off more than it can chew, weaving an apocalyptic narrative that is too messy to be truly effective. Its nihilistic tone and paranoia-fueled themes make for an interesting historical artifact, but as a horror film, it’s too convoluted and bleak to be satisfying. While there are glimpses of a fascinating eco-horror buried within, it ultimately drowns in its own chaotic swarm of ideas.
By 1968, Hammer Films had firmly established itself as the home of Gothic horror, and Dracula Has Risen from the Grave arrived as another entry in the studio’s blood-soaked saga. Directed by acclaimed cinematographer-turned-director Freddie Francis, the film saw Christopher Lee return as the Prince of Darkness in a stylish, if somewhat uneven, sequel.
At its core, Dracula Has Risen from the Grave weaves in themes of religion, revenge, and the ever-present battle between good and evil. Religion is front and centre, with the story emphasising Christianity’s role in morality, yet its presentation often borders on heavy-handed. Dracula’s revenge plot—a vendetta against a Monsignor who has attempted to bar him from his castle—feels petty, making the stakes seem less dire than in previous installments. There’s also an undercurrent of atheism versus faith, represented through the character of Paul (Barry Andrews), a young man forced to confront the supernatural despite his disbelief.
The film’s Gothic atmosphere is undeniably one of its strengths. Francis’ eye for striking visuals ensures that the production is filled with rich, saturated colours and ornate imagery, making for some truly memorable sequences. However, the narrative itself is more loosely structured than its predecessors, favouring style over substance. While some fans appreciate its looser, almost dreamlike quality, others find it lacking the tight plotting that made earlier Hammer Draculas more engaging.
As always, Christopher Lee dominates every scene he’s in, exuding menace with his piercing gaze and towering presence. Unfortunately, his Dracula is given little to do beyond the usual bloodletting and brooding stares. Still, his performance alone elevates the material.
While Dracula Has Risen from the Grave is a fun Hammer entry with B-movie charm, it doesn’t quite hold up to its predecessors in terms of narrative weight. It’s reactionary in its simplistic framing of good versus evil, yet it delivers enough Gothic atmosphere and unique set pieces to be enjoyable. Ultimately, it’s a solid but unremarkable addition to Hammer’s Dracula series.
The Prognosis:
A beautifully shot but narratively thin sequel, Dracula Has Risen from the Grave is worth watching for its Gothic aesthetic and Christopher Lee’s performance. However, its weaker plot and lack of high stakes keep it from being one of Hammer’s best.
Dario Argento’s Deep Red (Profondo Rosso, 1975) is often considered the ultimate giallo experience, a film that masterfully blends slasher-style horror with psychological intrigue. Following The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970) and The Cat o’ Nine Tails (1971), Deep Red solidified Argento’s status as the undisputed maestro of the genre, elevating giallo to new artistic and cinematic heights.
A Symphony of Violence and Mystery
The film follows Marcus Daly (David Hemmings), an English pianist in Rome who becomes entangled in a gruesome murder investigation after witnessing the brutal slaying of a psychic. Teaming up with determined journalist Gianna Brezzi (Daria Nicolodi), Marcus embarks on a dangerous search for the killer. As he delves deeper into the mystery, his memories of the crime scene prove to be more unreliable than he initially believed, leading to a series of increasingly shocking and violent revelations.
Argento infuses Deep Red with his signature stylistic flourishes: extreme close-ups, vibrant colour palettes, and elaborate set pieces. The film’s cinematography by Luigi Kuveiller is nothing short of breathtaking, amplifying the surreal, nightmarish quality of the narrative. The murders, choreographed with almost balletic precision, are among the most iconic in giallo history.
Thematic Depth: Memory, Vision, and Perception
At its core, Deep Red is a meditation on the fallibility of memory and perception. The film repeatedly plays with the idea that what we see is not always what we remember, a theme that lends itself to one of Argento’s most brilliantly constructed plot twists. The film also explores notions of sex, crime, trauma, and psychological deterioration, creating an atmosphere of paranoia and unease.
Argento uses recurring motifs of eyes and vision to reinforce these themes—whether through mirrors, paintings, or the protagonist’s own subjective experience. The result is a film that challenges the audience to question reality itself, engaging them in the mystery in a uniquely interactive way.
Goblin’s Unforgettable Soundtrack
No discussion of Deep Red would be complete without mentioning its legendary soundtrack. Composed by Goblin, the progressive rock score is a pulsating, hypnotic force that drives the film’s tension to near-unbearable levels. Tracks like “Profondo Rosso” and “Death Dies” have become as iconic as the film itself, perfectly complementing its eerie and unpredictable mood. The collaboration between Argento and Goblin, which would continue in Suspiria (1977), set a new standard for horror film soundtracks.
A Giallo Benchmark
Deep Red is not just one of Argento’s finest films; it is one of the greatest giallo films ever made. Its labyrinthine plot, mesmerising cinematography, and shocking violence make it an essential viewing experience for horror and thriller fans alike. While some may prefer the supernatural stylings of Suspiria, Deep Red remains Argento’s most refined and intricate mystery, a film that rewards repeat viewings with its complex narrative and visual artistry.
The Prognosis:
With Deep Red, Argento crafted a masterpiece of horror and intrigue, blending psychological complexity with unrelenting terror. Even decades later, it stands as an exhilarating and chilling cinematic experience, a film that continues to haunt and fascinate audiences worldwide.
Crime dramas based on true events often walk a fine line between gripping realism and cinematic exaggeration. Inside Man, directed by Danny A. Abeckaser, leans into this challenge with a gritty portrayal of undercover work in 1980s New York. Emile Hirsch leads the film as a troubled detective whose attempt at redemption drags him deep into the underbelly of the mob, where survival means losing himself in the very world he’s trying to dismantle.
Hirsch, known for his intense performances in Into the Wild and Lone Survivor, delivers a solid turn as a cop struggling with his identity while infiltrating the DeMeo crew—one of the most feared factions of the era. His internal conflict is the film’s strongest element, though at times, the script doesn’t allow for deeper psychological exploration. Lucy Hale adds some emotional weight to the story, though her role feels underdeveloped, while Robert Davi and Jack Cannavale bring a welcome menace to their mobster personas.
Abeckaser, who has experience with crime dramas (Mob Town), crafts an authentic 1980s New York atmosphere, full of dimly lit bars, smoky back rooms, and bursts of brutal violence. However, while the film captures the aesthetic well, it sometimes struggles with pacing, feeling more like a series of key moments rather than a fully cohesive narrative. The tension builds effectively, but some scenes drag, making the film feel longer than its runtime.
The Prognosis:
For crime thriller enthusiasts, Inside Man offers a serviceable look at the high-risk world of undercover police work. It doesn’t break new ground, but the strong performances and stylish execution make it worth a watch, especially for fans of mob dramas.
Inside Man will be available on DVD & Digital, including Apple TV, Prime Video, and Google Play from March 5, 2025, in Australia & New Zealand.
Fifty years after its premiere, Trilogy of Terror remains one of the most iconic made-for-TV horror films of all time. Directed by Dan Curtis and adapted from the works of Richard Matheson, this three-part anthology owes much of its success to one crucial factor: the extraordinary performance of Karen Black. Already an established actress known for her roles in Easy Rider (1969), Five Easy Pieces (1970), and The Great Gatsby (1974), Black’s work in Trilogy of Terror cemented her as an unforgettable presence in the horror genre. Playing four distinct roles across three terrifying tales, she turned what could have been a standard anthology into a must-see masterclass in psychological horror.
At a time when anthology horror had found success on television through shows like Night Gallery and The Twilight Zone, Trilogy of Terror stood apart due to its unrelenting tension and Black’s transformative abilities. Each story explores different facets of fear—seduction, duality, and relentless terror—and Black is at the heart of them all, shifting seamlessly between characters with eerie precision.
Story One: “Julie” – The Predator and the Prey
The opening segment, “Julie,” introduces us to Black as the seemingly timid college professor Julie Eldridge, who catches the eye of a manipulative student named Chad (Robert Burton). Chad, under the guise of youthful bravado, sets his sights on seducing Julie, photographing her in compromising situations, and blackmailing her into an illicit relationship. At first, Julie appears to be the hapless victim of Chad’s power play, but the tables turn in shocking fashion.
Karen Black’s performance in “Julie” is one of quiet menace. Her transition from meek schoolteacher to someone far more dangerous is executed with chilling restraint. The twist—revealing that Julie had been in control all along—elevates the story beyond a simple morality tale. It plays with audience expectations, making us question who the real predator is.
Story Two: “Millicent and Therese” – A Battle of Good and Evil
The second segment showcases Black in a dual role as two feuding sisters: the uptight, puritanical Millicent and the wild, hedonistic Therese. The two could not be more different—Millicent, dressed in conservative black attire, believes her sister is the embodiment of evil, while Therese, clad in provocative red, embraces her libertine lifestyle. Millicent’s desperation to rid herself of Therese leads to a final, brutal act—but the true horror lies in the revelation that the two women are not what they seem.
Black’s ability to play against herself is remarkable, making each character feel wholly distinct. The segment delves into themes of repression, trauma, and psychological breakdown, making it the most unsettling of the three. The ultimate twist—that Millicent and Therese are one and the same, suffering from dissociative identity disorder—adds a tragic weight to the story, demonstrating Black’s ability to navigate complex psychological horror with nuance.
Story Three: “Amelia” – The Zuni Doll Nightmare
Without a doubt, the final segment, “Amelia,” is what turned Trilogy of Terror into an enduring horror classic. Black plays Amelia, a woman who purchases a Zuni fetish doll as a gift, only for the doll to come to life and launch a relentless, frenzied attack on her in her apartment. The short is a masterclass in suspense, as the seemingly ridiculous premise of a tiny, knife-wielding doll is executed with such intensity that it becomes genuinely terrifying.
Here, Black delivers a physically demanding, emotionally raw performance, spending much of the runtime in a desperate battle against an unrelenting supernatural force. Without many special effects at its disposal, the film relies on sheer tension, pacing, and Black’s visceral performance to sell the terror. The climactic image of Amelia, possessed by the spirit of the Zuni warrior, grinning with razor-sharp teeth, remains one of horror’s most unsettling final shots.
Karen Black’s Lasting Legacy in Horror
Karen Black’s work in Trilogy of Terror redefined her career, making her an icon in horror cinema. While she had already proven herself as a versatile and talented actress in dramas and thrillers, this anthology showcased her ability to command the screen in multiple roles, each with a distinct sense of dread. Her contributions to horror would continue in later films like Burnt Offerings (1976), It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive (1987), and Rob Zombie’s House of 1000 Corpses (2003), solidifying her status as a genre legend.
Fifty years later, Trilogy of Terror remains a shining example of anthology horror done right. It may have been a made-for-TV production, but thanks to Black’s powerhouse performances, it stands the test of time as a must-watch for horror fans.
Surgeons of Horror 