“In Her Skin: The Stylist and the High Cost of Belonging”

13 Friday Jun 2025

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Streaming on Shudder and AMC+ from Monday 16 June

Beneath its softly lit salons and the hushed intimacy of late-night haircuts, The Stylist carves out something far more unsettling: a psychological portrait of aching loneliness, identity collapse, and the monstrous lengths some will go to feel like they belong. Directed with eerie precision by Jill Gevargizian, this feature-length adaptation of her acclaimed short film offers a muted but effective horror tale that leans more into sadness than shocks.

Claire (Najarra Townsend) is a woman adrift—quiet, awkward, desperate to connect—but with a hunger that’s gone grotesquely unmet. She doesn’t just cut hair. She scalps. Each kill is not about violence for its own sake, but a tragic, chilling attempt to wear someone else’s life. And that’s where The Stylist cuts deepest—not in the gore, but in its exploration of identity as a fragile performance, and what happens when someone can no longer locate their own sense of self.

Enter Olivia (Brea Grant), an affable, outgoing bride-to-be who naively invites Claire deeper into her world. From there, the spiral is slow and agonising. What starts as admiration curdles into obsession. Claire’s need to be Olivia isn’t just jealousy—it’s pathological yearning. Her scalping isn’t about trophies in the serial killer sense. It’s about transference. Taking the one thing a person can’t fake: their presence, their social ease, their confidence. Claire doesn’t want to destroy—she wants to inhabit.

Townsend delivers a superb, painfully internal performance. Her Claire is meek but never blank—each nervous twitch and downward glance revealing someone quietly screaming behind her skin. She doesn’t play the killer as a monster, but as a woman in mourning—for connection, for warmth, for identity. It’s a performance that sticks with you. Brea Grant, meanwhile, plays Olivia with a brightness that never tips into caricature, making her slow realisation all the more tragic.

Stylistically, the film is polished, with an elegant aesthetic that contrasts beautifully with its macabre subject matter. There are echoes of Maniac, May, even Single White Female, but The Stylist stands on its own, particularly in how grounded its emotional horror remains. The mood is heavy, sometimes to a fault, with pacing that occasionally feels listless rather than deliberate. Still, the thematic undercurrents—how we mask our emptiness, how we covet others’ confidence like currency—are deeply resonant.

The Prognosis:

There’s a sadness in the scissors. In the need to be seen. In the horror of invisibility. The Stylist doesn’t reinvent the horror genre, but it delivers something more haunting than expected: a quiet eulogy for those who never quite found their place, and the darkness that fills the void.

  • Saul Muerte

Englund, Harris, Moseley—Wasted on a Toothless Slasher

10 Tuesday Jun 2025

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Trick, no treat: A horror legend trio wasted on a forgettable fright night

Directed by Dwight H. Little, Natty Knocks arrives with a nostalgic promise—one rooted in its genre-savvy casting. With horror icons Bill Moseley, Danielle Harris, and Robert Englund all appearing in the same film, expectations are understandably raised. Unfortunately, what unfolds is a tepid, undercooked Halloween flick that feels more like a missed opportunity than a macabre thrill ride.

Set on Halloween Eve, the story follows Britt (Charlotte Fountain-Jardim), a babysitter tasked with protecting a group of kids from Abner Honeywell, a deranged killer who is also the son of a B-movie scream queen known as “Natty Knocks.” It’s a set-up that might have worked better had the film leaned harder into its retro horror roots, or capitalised on its intriguing central lore. Instead, the narrative plods along with soft suspense and little impact.

Bill Moseley plays it straight but subdued, a far cry from his unhinged roles in House of 1000 Corpses or The Devil’s Rejects. Danielle Harris, often a reliable presence in indie horror, is underused here, while Robert Englund—despite a brief and welcome appearance—feels more like stunt casting than a meaningful addition. The trio’s collective legacy deserves better than what the film ultimately offers.

Technically, the film struggles with uneven pacing and flat direction. There are a few stylistic touches and the occasional attempt at atmosphere, but none of it ever quite gels. The kills are mostly offscreen or uninspired, and the tension rarely rises above a simmer.

The Prognosis:

In the end, Natty Knocks tries to dress up a bare-bones slasher with legacy casting and light folklore, but it doesn’t have the teeth to break through the noise. For fans of Moseley, Harris, or Englund, there’s some fleeting curiosity value. For everyone else, it’s a Halloween story better left untold.

  • Movie Review by Saul Muerte

Natty Knocks is available to rent or buy now.

Fear, Fur, and Fortune: Eye of the Cat Delivers Giallo-Lite Thrills

08 Sunday Jun 2025

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Directed by David Lowell Rich, Eye of the Cat claws its way into the tail end of the 1960s with a premise that’s part Hitchcockian suspense, part Gothic melodrama, and part giallo-lite. While it never fully embraces the stylistic excess of its European cousins, there’s just enough tension, sleaze, and visual flair to keep genre fans engaged.

The setup is deliciously pulpy: a man conspires with his lover to rob his wealthy, cat-loving aunt of her fortune. The twist? He suffers from crippling ailurophobia—a fear of cats so intense it borders on the irrational. As the couple manipulates their way into the aunt’s inner circle, it becomes clear that the real threat may not be the clowder of watchful cats, but the secrets and shifting loyalties within the human cast.

While it lacks the razor-sharp elegance of Italian gialli, the film borrows enough of the genre’s staples—suspicious motives, inheritance plots, sudden reversals—to flirt with its spirit. The San Francisco setting provides a breezy, modern contrast to the otherwise old-world paranoia. Stylish cinematography and a few well-executed suspense sequences help elevate what could have been a TV-grade thriller.

Performances are serviceable, if occasionally campy, with Michael Sarrazin giving the lead just the right balance of charm and cowardice. The cats—dozens of them—are effectively used not just as a visual motif but as avatars of retribution. Their calm menace lingers in the corners of every scene, especially as things take a turn for the sinister in the final act.

The Prognosis:

Eye of the Cat may not leave deep scratches, but it’s a fun, semi-decent slice of late-’60s paranoia with just enough bite to justify the watch. For fans of crime thrillers with a twisted core—and anyone who likes their feline horror served with a side of psychological torment—it’s worth a revisit.

  • 1960s Retrospective Review by Saul Muerte

From Chains to Clichés: Revisiting Hellraiser: Deader and Hellworld 20 Years Later

08 Sunday Jun 2025

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The box is still open—but by 2005, the horrors inside had lost their teeth.

As the Hellraiser franchise entered its straight-to-video era in the early 2000s, fans had already weathered a series of diminishing returns. But 2005’s double blow of Hellraiser: Deader and Hellraiser: Hellworld, both directed by Rick Bota and released within months of each other, marked a significant point of no return. Celebrating (or lamenting) their 20th anniversary in 2025, these two entries are less remembered for expanding Clive Barker’s mythos and more for highlighting how far the series had drifted from its grim, sensual origins.

Hellraiser: Deader 

Of the two, Deader fares slightly better—not because it’s a faithful addition to the Hellraiser canon, but because it begins life as something else entirely. Originally a standalone supernatural thriller script, it was retrofitted to include the Cenobites and the Lament Configuration, resulting in a stitched-together film that almost works in spite of itself.

Kari Wuhrer leads the story as a hard-nosed journalist chasing down an underground death cult in Romania. The film flirts with themes of trauma, addiction, and blurred reality—concepts that Hellraiser once handled with provocative boldness—but here, they’re dulled by a by-the-numbers execution. Still, the moody Eastern European backdrop and committed turns from Wuhrer, Marc Warren, and Paul Rhys give it some atmosphere, and the central premise—of a cult obsessed with conquering death—does echo Hellraiser’s fascination with pushing bodily and spiritual limits.

But despite flashes of creativity, Deader never shakes its identity crisis. The Cenobites are barely relevant to the narrative, and Pinhead’s presence feels perfunctory. It’s not a Hellraiser movie so much as a middling thriller that happens to feature a few familiar hooks.

Hellraiser: Hellworld 

If Deader is diluted, then Hellworld is downright disposable. Set in a pseudo-Internet-era gaming world, Hellworld attempts to be meta and modern, pitting a group of teens against a Hellraiser-themed online game. The resulting film feels like Scream meets House on Haunted Hill—but without the tension, intelligence, or atmosphere of either.

Despite the presence of genre legend Lance Henriksen and a young Henry Cavill (long before the cape), the cast is wasted in a script that relies on techno-jargon, faux-twists, and a painfully forced attempt at self-awareness. Doug Bradley’s Pinhead appears for his final time here, but his screen time is minimal, his dialogue rote, and his menace utterly defanged.

The film ends with a ridiculous twist that robs it of even the shallow pleasures of a bad slasher flick. For many fans, Hellworld marks the lowest point in the franchise—and it’s hard to argue with that sentiment.

Doug Bradley: The Final Configuration

If Hellworld is a disappointing swan song, it’s also the end of an era for Doug Bradley, who portrayed Pinhead across eight Hellraiser films from 1987 to 2005. With his commanding presence and Shakespearean delivery, Bradley transformed what could have been a gimmicky monster into a tragic, philosophical figure—a dark priest of pain and pleasure who lingered long after the credits rolled.

Bradley’s contributions to the franchise can’t be overstated. In Hellbound and Hell on Earth, he explored the remnants of humanity in Pinhead’s psyche; in later films like Inferno and Deader, he still managed to bring gravitas even when the writing failed him. His final appearance in Hellworld may be a muted farewell, but his legacy remains stitched into the flesh of the genre.

The Prognosis:

Twenty years on, Deader and Hellworld stand as cautionary tales about franchise fatigue and the dangers of branding over storytelling. What began with Clive Barker’s twisted poetry and existential dread had, by 2005, become little more than window dressing. Still, Deader holds a flicker of creativity, and even in the depths of Hellworld, Bradley’s shadow looms large—a final, ghostly reminder of what Hellraiser once dared to be.

  • Retrospective by Saul Muerte

Love on the Run Turns to Terror in Queer Horror Road Trip Straight On Till Morning

02 Monday Jun 2025

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Freak Me Out delivers another bold, bruising genre gem.

The Freak Me Out program at Sydney Film Festival 2025 has always been a haven for horror misfits, and Straight On Till Morning is a welcome addition to its blood-splattered roster. Directed by Craig Ouellette, this road trip romance-turned-nightmare pits love against extremism, identity against tradition, and outsiders against a force of cruel conformity.

At its heart are Dani and Kaitlin, two queer lovers caught in the euphoric haze of newfound intimacy. Their chemistry is charming, unforced, and grounded in quiet authenticity—a refreshing portrayal that sidesteps overused tropes and instead paints their connection as real and lived-in. But their dreamy road trip through America’s underbelly soon turns into a brutal descent, as they collide with a seemingly God-fearing family whose values are warped by delusion and control.

The film takes its time to find traction, and its deliberate pacing may test some viewers. The first act drifts on the wind of romantic indie minimalism, until a mid-point collision throws everything off the rails and into pure survival horror. From there, it delivers raw tension, visceral violence, and a grim dissection of how love—queer or otherwise—threatens rigid systems built on fear and false righteousness.

What elevates Straight On Till Morning beyond standard genre fare is its refusal to paint anyone with a single brushstroke. The villains are monstrous, yes, but they are never cartoons. Likewise, our protagonists are flawed, unsure, and deeply human. Ouellette doesn’t go for clean lines—this is a film about grey areas. About how outcasts, be they queer lovers or zealots hiding from the modern world, can collide in catastrophic ways.

The Prognosis:

It’s a challenging, sometimes uneven ride, but when it hits its stride, it’s gripping and unrelenting. In a landscape still learning how to do queer horror without pandering or punishing, Straight On Till Morning is a welcome entry—messy, brave, and full of heart.

🎟 Screening Times – Freak Me Out @ Sydney Film Festival 2025

  • Tuesday 10 June, 8:20pm – Dendy Newtown, Cinema 1
  • Friday 13 June, 8:30pm – Event Cinemas George Street, Cinema 9

Dare to fall in love. Stay for the fear.

  • Saul Muerte

I Don’t Want to Be Born (1975) – 50th Anniversary Retrospective

01 Sunday Jun 2025

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The devil came to the pram—and brought a Hammer cast with him.

Also known by several more sensational titles—The Devil Within Her, Sharon’s Baby, and It’s Growing Inside Her—Peter Sasdy’s I Don’t Want to Be Born is one of the stranger, more uneven horror offerings of 1975. Half supernatural shocker, half demonic soap opera, the film boasts a surprisingly strong cast and a deeply odd premise that has earned it a peculiar kind of cult status over the past fifty years.

Set in a heightened, almost surreal version of London, the film sees Joan Collins’ character give birth to a monstrously violent baby—seemingly possessed by the vengeful spirit of a spurned dwarf lover. What follows is a bizarre series of deaths, each more absurd than the last, all linked by the ominous presence of a pram and its pint-sized occupant.

Though the concept teeters on the edge of parody, Sasdy—who brought genuine Gothic flair to Hammer productions like Taste the Blood of Dracula and Countess Dracula—attempts to play it mostly straight. His direction tries to keep the tone grounded, but the outlandish plot frequently undercuts any attempt at gravitas.

Joan Collins, in full glam-horror mode, commits admirably to the madness. Her co-star Ralph Bates, with whom she previously appeared in Hammer’s Fear in the Night, provides a steadying presence. The cast is stacked with familiar faces from British genre cinema—Donald Pleasance as a soft-spoken doctor, Eileen Atkins as a nun with spiritual insight, and the ever-iconic Caroline Munro in a brief but welcome turn.

Despite its flaws—and they are many—the film’s connections to Hammer’s waning golden age give it an air of familiarity. In many ways, I Don’t Want to Be Born feels like a last gasp of the studio’s supernatural melodrama, though filtered through the grittier, more sensationalistic lens of mid-‘70s exploitation cinema.

The Prognosis:

On its 50th anniversary, it’s fair to say that I Don’t Want to Be Born is more curiosity than classic. But for devotees of Collins, Sasdy, and the weird crossover space between Hammer horror and post-Exorcist hysteria, it’s an oddly compelling footnote in British horror history.

  • Retrospective Review by Saul Muerte

The Ghoul (1975) Tyburn’s house of horrors—where secrets fester in the attic.

01 Sunday Jun 2025

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Half a century on, The Ghoul (1975) stands as one of the more curious entries in the twilight years of British Gothic horror. Directed with solemn precision by Freddie Francis and headlined by the ever-graceful Peter Cushing, the film was a sincere attempt by Tyburn Film Productions Limited to resurrect the moody, atmospheric horrors of the Hammer era—an ambition that resulted in a mixed, but memorable, outing.

Set in 1920s England, the story revolves around a former clergyman (Cushing) who harbours a dark family secret: his cannibalistic son, locked away in the attic of his remote country manor. As uninvited guests and unwitting thrill-seekers stumble upon the estate, the horror quietly unfolds under a heavy blanket of mist, melancholy, and moral decay.

Tyburn—also behind The Legend of the Werewolf—clearly aimed to evoke the bygone days of elegant, character-driven horror. In that spirit, Cushing delivers a beautifully nuanced performance, as always lending depth and humanity to a role steeped in sadness. His scenes carry a weight of personal grief—particularly poignant given the recent loss of his wife at the time of filming.

Director Freddie Francis, returning to familiar Gothic territory, crafts an atmosphere of slow-burn dread, though the pace and plotting may leave some modern viewers wanting. Veronica Carlson—reunited with Cushing from previous Hammer entries—offers a restrained but dignified performance, while a young John Hurt brings a twitchy, unpredictable energy that adds texture to the film’s more traditional framework.

Producer Antony Hinds, a key figure in Hammer’s golden era, worked under the pseudonym John Elder here, contributing to a film that often feels like a swan song to a dying genre. While The Ghoul may not reach the heights of its forebears, its sincerity, craftsmanship, and dedication to classic horror tropes make it worth revisiting.

The Prognosis:

Fifty years later, The Ghoul stands not as a triumph, but as a loving echo—one that reminds us of a genre clinging to its traditions even as the horror world around it began to shift. For admirers of Cushing, Francis, and British Gothic, it remains a thoughtful if flawed gem from a studio that deserved a longer life.

  • Retrospective Review by Saul Muerte

Fog, Flesh, and Fear: The Doll of Satan and the Gothic Roots of Giallo

01 Sunday Jun 2025

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“Behind every shadow lies a secret. Behind every secret, a scream.”

🗝️ “Behind every shadow lies a secret. Behind every secret, a scream.”

By the time La bambola di Satana (The Doll of Satan) crept into Italian cinemas in 1969, the giallo genre was still sharpening its knives. Mario Bava had lit the fuse with The Girl Who Knew Too Much (1963) and Blood and Black Lace (1964), but it would be another year before Dario Argento’s The Bird with the Crystal Plumage pushed the subgenre into full flight. The Doll of Satan landed at a curious midpoint: a gothic thriller draped in giallo stylings, ripe with misty castles, erotic hallucinations, and a hooded killer lurking in the shadows.

Directed by Ferruccio Casapinta—his only directorial credit—this occult-tinged thriller follows Elisabeth, a young woman returning to her family’s ancestral castle after her uncle’s mysterious death. As the inheritance looms, so do whispers of hauntings, cryptic locals, and ulterior motives. Elisabeth is soon plagued by bizarre, erotically charged visions and finds herself trapped in a web of deceit, culminating in dungeon-bound torture at the hands of a masked figure. Her fiancé, Jack, begins to suspect that the castle’s legend hides a far more human treachery.

While The Doll of Satan never fully commits to the baroque excess or stylish violence that would come to define giallo in the 1970s, it bears several of the genre’s fingerprints: a vulnerable woman in a labyrinthine estate, conspiracies surrounding wealth and inheritance, dreamlike hallucinations, and a killer whose identity is concealed behind cloaks and masks. Yet it’s still deeply tethered to the gothic tradition—with its rain-slicked graveyards, ancestral curses, and fog-choked corridors, the film feels caught in the final breath of the old horror world, even as it reaches toward the future.

There’s an undeniable camp charm in the way the film blends eroticism and suspense, from the exaggerated dream sequences to the near-operatic melodrama. Bruno Nicolai’s score—steeped in mood and menace—adds a ghostly elegance that elevates the film beyond its limited budget and occasionally clunky pacing. Casapinta may not have had the finesse of Bava or the bravado of Argento, but he delivers a stylish, if uneven, curiosity that flirts with the giallo blueprint.

The Prognosis:

The Doll of Satan stands as a minor, though intriguing, footnote in the evolution of Italian horror. It reflects a moment of transformation—when horror cinema in Italy was beginning to trade gothic gloom for lurid thrills, and the supernatural gave way to psychological menace. For giallo enthusiasts and completists, it offers a seductive glimpse into that transitional twilight, where haunted castles began to echo with the sound of switchblades.

  • 1960s Retrospective Review by Saul Muerte

“Bring Her Back” Is a Brutal, Brain-Bending Horror That Sticks With You

31 Saturday May 2025

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The RackaRacka boys have delivered again with another twisted take on the horror genre.

Where most modern horrors have become predictable, Bring Her Back keeps you guessing—delivering tense scenes, cover-your-eyes moments, and genuine shocks rather than cheap jump scares.

You feel every bone crack and every piece of skin tear, thanks to ingenious stunt work and makeup effects, bolstered by incredibly savage sound design. It’s easy to see why some of the body horror may be too much for the faint of heart—featuring one of the most brutal moments I think I’ve ever seen on screen.

The Philippou brothers, Danny and Michael (Talk To Me), excel at finding great young talent, and this is no exception. The cast includes a group of up-and-coming stars alongside Sally Hawkins, who delivers an unsettling performance (and a flawless Aussie accent). For a pair of lads who come across as nutters in every interview they do, the brothers show surprising maturity—especially in their camerawork and originality.

Like most horror films, it’s a very clear allegory, but it’s still entertaining. There were moments that could’ve been a bit clearer without needing to spell everything out—but then again, I suppose we’d have had nothing to discuss in the car park afterwards.

The Prognosis:

You may need an exorcist to remove this movie from your brain—not just because of the body horror, but because you’ll probably be trying to piece the puzzle together the whole ride home.

The Dhampir Rises Again: 40 Years of Vampire Hunter D’s Haunting Influence

28 Wednesday May 2025

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Premiering Exclusively on Shudder, AMC+ and HIDIVE – Friday 30 May
“In a world ruled by vampires, only a half-blood dares to hunt them.”

When Vampire Hunter D premiered in 1985, few could have predicted the cultural ripple effect it would have across manga, anime, and horror for decades to come. Now, forty years later, this gothic, genre-defying milestone returns with a long-awaited streaming premiere on Shudder, AMC+, and HIDIVE—offering a perfect moment to reflect on its enduring power.

Set in the far-flung future of 12,090 A.D., the film unfolds in a post-apocalyptic landscape where science and sorcery coexist, and humanity lives in fear under the rule of the vampire Nobility. At its centre is Doris Lang, a brave young woman marked for unholy matrimony by the ancient Count Magnus Lee. Her only hope lies in the hands of a mysterious wanderer known only as D—an enigmatic vampire hunter with a tragic secret etched into his very bloodline.

Directed by Toyoo Ashida and based on the novel by Hideyuki Kikuchi with iconic illustrations by Yoshitaka Amano, Vampire Hunter D was a revelation for its time. It merged the aesthetics of Western horror—Dracula, Frankenstein, Lovecraft—with a distinctly Japanese post-apocalyptic flair, opening a door to global audiences that had rarely encountered horror anime in this form. The film’s blend of violence, melancholy, and romanticism felt alien and refreshing—an animated Gothic western that flirted with sci-fi, body horror, and dark fantasy.

The horror in Vampire Hunter D is not just visual—it’s atmospheric. Shadowy castles, mutated creatures, and the decaying elegance of the vampire Nobility all serve to create an air of terminal beauty, where death and corruption linger in every frame. The film pulses with dread, not just from its antagonists, but from the melancholic burden D carries as a dhampir—caught between two worlds, never at home in either.

Manga, and later anime, would absorb and amplify these motifs. Vampire Hunter D helped normalise horror as a serious mode within manga storytelling, inspiring a lineage that includes Berserk, Hellsing, Claymore, and Attack on Titan. Its DNA can be traced through the decades, proving that gothic horror, when stylised with poetic nihilism and speculative world-building, could resonate far beyond Japan.

Though animation has since evolved in leaps and bounds, there’s a charm in Vampire Hunter D’s hand-drawn grit—a visual texture that feels inseparable from its era and identity. It may lack the polish of modern anime, but it makes up for it in atmosphere, tone, and mythic presence.

The Prognosis:

As it celebrates its 40th anniversary with a new generation of fans ready to rediscover it, Vampire Hunter D still holds its scythe high. Part horror, part tragedy, and wholly influential, it remains a cornerstone of horror anime—and proof that even in a world of monsters, the greatest fear often lies within the hero himself.

  • Retrospective Review by Saul Muerte

Vampire Hunter D premieres exclusively on Shudder, AMC+ and HIDIVE – Friday 30 May