One of the greatest bad movies of bad movies, the cult film of cult films, Rocky has lived on in the hearts and minds of the alienated, marginalized, and gay youth of each generation since its 1975 debut. The Picture Show has become a right of passage for those who will one day become fans of the cult movie, the bizarre musical, and eventually, possibly, even sex. Of all cult movies, no other has a following quite like the sexually confused, camp-horror followers of the late night, double feature picture show. There is nothing quite like seeing a 200-lb Janet, complete with white underwear, dancing and singing in front of two-hundred overly-Zima’d virgins – if you have never been to a modern screening of Rocky, go. Go now. Take a camera – and a change of underwear – it will be the scariest Halloween experience you’ve ever had.
Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! What, no ghost with the most? I guess cirrhosis will kill even the hardiest of cult movies. Tim Burton’s ability to turn almost anything he touches into something not only instantly cultish, but also beautiful, is a testament to his sick fascination with bad science fiction films and terrible horror movies. Beetlejuice is enduring, which I think is partly due to the use of Belafonte island dance numbers in a comedy movie made “in-the-style-of” a horror film, and partly because even the bad guy seems like someone you would want to share a bottle of bourbon with. Not only is Beetlejuice great to have on as background noise at your Halloween party, but it is also something with which you can kick-start your kid’s education in cult movies.
For God’s sake, it’s called Halloween, a no-brainer for a Halloween list maker. Anyway, Halloween is not just a convenient title for selling theatre seats in October, but it was also the film that created the teen babysitter slasher cliché. Now clichés are spawned from actual memorable moments, and John Carpenter’s low budget masterpiece has become a part of Americana. Jamie Lee Curtis being terrorized by Nick Castle (the same guy who directed Dennis the Menace and Major Payne – VERY scary) in an expressionless white mask created a template for future slasher films. If you’ve ever wondered where the camera angles and female stereotypes of Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street came from, look no further – but be aware, the opening credits are terrible.
This 1968 George A. Romero über-classic cult film makes lethargic, brain hungry, stiff, undead, Reagan-loving nursing home rejects the scariest predators a small town in broke-ass PA has ever seen. I, personally, love zombie movies, and what better than one of the originals? But there is something that always bothers me about the whole zombie genre: they just don’t seem that tough. You would think that even decrepit old Stephen Hawking and pansy Andy Dick could fight at lest 60 or 70 of them, let alone a home full of adults including a black man (and we’re not talking black man like Sammy Davis, Jr; I mean like lock up your white women because you know if they go black they really aren’t going back, black man).
Before Johnny Depp was swashbuckling his way into another awful Jerry Bruckheimer movie, he was dodging his way from child killer and winner of the 1984 Captain Grody Face Award. Freddy Kruger, one part wolverine, one part Edward Scissorhands (no Johnny Depp pun intended), and much like Helen Keller, is a hero to all psychotic serial killing burn victims. I think the premise of this movie should be well known to all of us so I will give you a little tip on how to make this movie really scary. I like to pop a hand full of melatonin and wash it down with a nice glass of warm milk and pray to God that I don’t crap myself.
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