Live Action TV & Movies

Show 1
Space: Above and Beyond
Space: Above and Beyond is a gritty sci-fi military drama set in the mid-21st century, where Earth is plunged into an interstellar war against a mysterious alien race known as the Chigs. These bio-suited extraterrestrials launch a surprise attack on human colonies, forcing humanity to fight for survival.

The story follows the 58th Squadron, a group of young Marine space pilots, as they battle across deep space and hostile planets. Alongside the alien threat, the series also explores internal conflicts with the "In Vitros" — artificially-grown humans treated as second-class citizens — and the eerie Silicates, a rogue group of cybernetic beings (basically creepy cyborg-zombie mercs) that rebelled against their human creators.

Packed with heavy themes of war, prejudice, sacrifice, and survival, the show blends military realism with dark space opera, earning it a cult following despite, sadly, only being a single-season run.
Show 2
Sliders
Sliders is a sci-fi adventure series about a group of travelers who use a wormhole device to "slide" between parallel Earths—each with its own alternate history, culture, or dystopian twist. The show begins with physics genius Quinn Mallory, his mentor Professor Arturo, his friend Wade, and accidental tagalong Rembrandt as they try to get back to their home dimension.

As the show progresses, the stakes get darker. In later seasons, the sliders discover a powerful and brutal alien species called the Kromaggs—a race of evolved primate-like humanoids. The Kromaggs possess interdimensional sliding tech and begin invading and enslaving humans across multiple Earths, treating humanity as inferior and expendable. Their warlike nature and chilling experiments add a dangerous new layer to the team's already chaotic journey.

The show blends alternate reality exploration with military, political, and survival themes, especially as the Kromagg threat escalates.
Show 3
Earth: Final Conflict
Earth: Final Conflict is a sci-fi series created from notes by Gene Roddenberry, set in a near future where a powerful alien species called the Taelons arrive on Earth, claiming to be peaceful benefactors. They offer humanity advanced technology, cure diseases, and usher in a golden age — but not everyone trusts their motives.

The story follows various human agents (and sometimes rebels) navigating the uneasy alliance, as secrets emerge about the Taelons' true intentions and their own survival struggles. The show blends alien politics, resistance movements, espionage, and philosophical dilemmas.

However, the series is known for its rocky creative direction — with major character deaths, sudden shifts in tone, and dramatic personality changes from season to season. The frequent cast turnovers and reboots of the show's premise led to mixed fan responses, with some loving its ambition and others frustrated by its inconsistency.
Show 4
War of the Worlds (series)
War of the Worlds (1988) is a dark, violent sci-fi continuation of the original H.G. Wells story and the 1953 film. Set in a modern-day Earth, the show reveals that the aliens from the original invasion didn’t die—they were just dormant. Now, their minds are reawakened and possess human bodies, leading to a gruesome guerrilla war against humanity. A small government team, led by physicist Harrison Blackwood, races to stop the growing alien threat while uncovering disturbing truths about the invaders.

The first season is widely praised for its creepy atmosphere, mature tone, and bold mix of horror and sci-fi. But in season two, the show went through a complete upheaval: the world is suddenly post-apocalyptic, most of the cast is gone, the aliens get redesigned and renamed the Morthren, and much of the original lore is retconned. The drastic shift in tone and direction alienated many fans, and the series was cancelled shortly after.

Still, that first season remains a cult classic, especially for fans of gritty '80s sci-fi with real teeth.
Show 5
Space Precinct
Space Precinct is a stylish blend of police procedural and sci-fi created by Gerry Anderson. Set in the year 2040 on the planet Altor, the show follows former NYPD detective Lieutenant Patrick Brogan as he transfers to Precinct 88, where humans and aliens work side-by-side to uphold the law.

Despite its seemingly odd mix of genres, the series delivers surprisingly strong character-driven storytelling, with engaging plots that explore crime, corruption, prejudice, and loyalty in a futuristic multi-species society. The alien citizens—ranging from bureaucrats to gangsters—are brought to life with phenomenal practical creature effects and animatronics that still hold up as a technical marvel.

Though it built a loyal fanbase, Space Precinct was sadly short-lived, ending after just one season. Its ambitious tone and production value were high and it was very underappreciated in its time. But for sci-fi fans, it remains a unique gem that dared to mix alien worlds with classic cop drama.
Show 6
Red Dwarf
Red Dwarf is a cult British sci-fi comedy that follows the last human alive—Dave Lister, a lazy, curry-loving slob—stranded in deep space three million years in the future aboard the mining ship Red Dwarf. His only companions? A hologram of his uptight bunkmate Rimmer, a hyper-evolved humanoid cat named Cat, and the terminally loyal yet clueless android Kryten.

The show mixes dry British wit, sci-fi absurdity, and low-budget charm into something completely unforgettable. From time travel mishaps to parallel dimensions and sentient vending machines, Red Dwarf thrives on clever writing, surreal situations, and a totally lovable cast of misfits.

Back in the day, it used to pop up on public access or PBS late at night, and catching an episode felt like discovering a strange, hilarious treasure from another dimension. The effects may have been cheap, but the heart and laughs were pure gold.
Show 7
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1981 TV series)
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy TV series from 1981 is the BBC’s wonderfully bizarre and witty adaptation of Douglas Adams’ cult sci-fi comedy. It follows ordinary Englishman Arthur Dent, who is swept off Earth moments before it's destroyed to make way for a hyperspace bypass. His guide through the cosmos? Ford Prefect, a roving alien researcher for the titular guidebook.

Joined by an increasingly ridiculous crew—including two-headed galactic fugitive Zaphod Beeblebrox, paranoid robot Marvin, and spacey Earthwoman Trillian—Arthur stumbles through surreal planets, bureaucratic absurdities, and the ultimate answer to life, the universe, and everything (spoiler: it’s 42).

The series is celebrated for its clever wordplay, philosophical satire, and surprisingly ambitious visual effects for its time—charming in their retro BBC glory. It may be low-budget, but it captures the spirit of Adams' humor perfectly and became a beloved staple of weird TV.
Show 8
The Hitchhiker
The Hitchhiker was an HBO/Cinemax anthology thriller series that started off strong in the early '80s, with a mysterious drifter—“The Hitchhiker”—serving as the cryptic narrator for twisted, often erotic tales of crime, morality, and supernatural punishment. Early episodes were packed with suspense, clever writing, and chilling twists that gave it real bite, like a grown-up Twilight Zone with a sleazier, more psychological edge.

But after a few seasons, the quality took a nosedive. The writing got lazy, the acting became wooden, and the once-unpredictable twists turned into telegraphed clichĂ©s. It felt like the show lost its edge, and by the final seasons, it was limping along with drawn-out plots and flat performances that left many fans wondering what happened to the show they used to love. What began as gripping and stylish slowly devolved into a slog—like it hitchhiked straight into mediocrity.

Still, those early episodes? Creepy gold.
Show 9
Mystery Science Theater 3000
Mystery Science Theater 3000 is a legendary cult comedy series where a guy (first Joel, then Mike) is trapped in space and forced to watch awful movies with his wisecracking robot pals, Crow T. Robot and Tom Servo. Together, they deliver rapid-fire riffs on some of the worst films ever made; turning cinematic garbage into comedy gold.

The original Joel and Mike eras? Pure perfection. Whether it was Manos: The Hands of Fate or enduring an endless Coleman Francis slog, the writing, timing, and chemistry were great. It was fun, weird, and perfect for watching with the family; I’ve got tons of warm memories laughing through bad movies with people.

But let’s be honest: everything after Joel and Mike sucked. The magic was gone. The pacing felt off, the charm was missing, and the bots just didn’t feel like themselves anymore. It went from lovable and low-budget to trying too hard and frankly beating a dead horse.

The original MST3K run is immortal. Bad movies may come and go, but the Satellite of Love during the Joel and Mike years will always be home.
Show 10
Amazing Stories (1985 TV series)
Amazing Stories (1985) is a wild and imaginative anthology series created by Steven Spielberg, where each episode delivers its own little universe—ranging from spooky to sentimental to flat-out bizarre. Think The Twilight Zone with a touch more heart, a dash of whimsy, and a big ol’ ‘80s vibe.

The stories are great, sure but the absolute-hits are unforgettable. Personal favorites? The one where a smooth-brained trailer-park blonde discovers a hidden race of mysterious beings living under the Earth and somehow becomes their communicator with dangerous results; it’s weird, freaky, and totally unique. Then there’s the episode where a high school student invents a substance that makes anything printed come to life, including a dog and the torso of a model, all of it leaping off the page with hilarious (and dangerous) results. And of course, the mummy episode where an actor stuck in mummy-guise tries to get to his pregnant wife with hilarious and disturbing encounters along the way from both the locals and something more mysterious.
Show 11
Monsters (1988)
Monsters was a horror anthology series that snuck onto TV and burrowed into my childhood brain forever. Every episode featured a brand new creature such as: demons, monsters, mutants, aliens, and other things that did not belong outside of a nightmare. It was like the twisted cousin of Tales from the Darkside, but with a stronger focus on practical monster effects and wonderfully (usually less-than-serious) weird horror story concepts.

As a kid, I loved it even though it scared the fuck out of me. I’d watch it with one eye open, too afraid to look away, and somehow came back for more every time. And now? I still love it. The show holds up with its mix of creepy stories, hideous monsters, and that perfect 1980s horror charm. Even today, it still kinda freaky.
Show 12
Tales from the Dark Side (and the movie by the same name)
Tales from the Darkside was like the father of Monsters, an anthology horror series from the twisted minds behind Creepshow. With its eerie theme and haunting narrator whispering, “There is... a dark side,” it set the tone for bite-sized nightmares that often came with a moral sting or a deliciously ironic twist.

The stories ranged from ghostly to grotesque, supernatural to sci-fi weirdness, and while I’m not as fond of it as I am Monsters (1988), it still holds a special place. The show had its own charm even if it was grungier, moodier, with a more serious tone; and some episodes genuinely stick with you.

The 1990 movie was a solid extension of the series, with multiple chilling segments. The stories still pack a punch and yeah, the one with the gargoyle creature scared the shit out of me as a kid. So while Monsters will always be my go-to for nostalgic horror/scifi anthology, Tales from the Darkside delivers a darker flavor of horror I still love revisiting.
Show 13
The Ray Bradbury Theater
This show is a treasure trove of eerie wonder: thoughtful; moody; and beautifully strange. Each episode is based on Bradbury’s own stories and brings to life his vivid imagination: time travel, ghostly encounters, dystopian futures, unsettling small towns, etc. I didn’t discover it until a few years ago; never saw it when it aired. While other anthology shows got reruns or cult fame, this one stayed quiet like a secret waiting to be found.

The intro alone sets the tone: Bradbury’s voice, his cluttered writing room, a promise that what you’re about to see came straight from his typewriter. The stories are sometimes dark, sometimes odd, sometimes funny, sometimes quiet but gripping with meaning. It’s not just another anthology it’s his personal and unforgettable work. This is truly one of the most abominably-underated and lesser known anthology shows.
Show 14
The A-Team
The A-Team is a loud, over-the-top, explosion-packed action show where nobody ever seems to actually die. For real—it’s like watching a live-action GI Joe, you know the one with the red and blue lasers... Why? Because Bullets fly, cars flip, buildings blow up, but the bad guys always crawl out coughing with messy hair and no fatal injuries.

It’s kind of hilarious when you think about it. It’s all flash and fire without consequences. But that’s part of the charm. Mr. T growls, Hannibal grins with cigar between his teeth, Face cons, and Murdock acts nuts... and somehow despite the explosive vigilante/mercenary (whatever they are,) action they all walk away untouched every time. It’s goofy, campy, and wonderfully 1980s.
Miami Vice
*Folf in Miami Vice*
Folf in Miami Vice
Miami Vice
Miami Vice IS the 1980s in TV form. Pastel suits, synth soundtracks, neon cityscapes, and dedicated detectives with plenty of shades and expensive cars. But it’s not just fashion and mood—there’s plenty of kick-ass 1980s guns too. Every episode feels like a music video crossed with a crime thriller. Crockett and Tubbs glide through Miami’s underworld chasing drug lords and smugglers with Uzis, shotguns, and serious attitude. It’s dramatic, flashy, and soaked in that perfect retro vibe. Bren Ten, LaFrance M16K, and Interdynamic KG-9s anybody?
Show 16
The Eric Andre Show
The Eric Andre Show is the funniest shit I’ve seen in years, truly glorious, brain-melting absurdist chaos. It’s a rapid-fire fever dream of surreal interviews, public prank sketches, trolling pretentious celebs, and pure unfiltered anarchy. The creativity behind it is next-level, and no two bits are ever the same; just relentless, unpredictable nonsense that hits you like a chair out of nowhere.

That said, somewhere after a few seasons (I honestly forget which one), there was a season that just wasn’t funny at all. If I’m not mistaken, it’s because they were told to tone it down, and much like how using a condom is akin to wearing a raincoat in the shower, the beauty of the moment just wasn't there. That’s when I stopped watching.

Apparently, howevr, there have been new seasons since then, though I haven’t seen them yet but maybe it's good again. If it’s returned to form, I might just dive back in and get back into it.
Show 17
Danger 5
Danger 5 is a freaking masterpiece. Season 1 is an absurd, pitch-perfect parody of WWII adventure serials and early Cold War spy thrillers—it’s like if Thunderbirds, The Dirty Dozen, and a bottle of whiskey had a fever dream. The humor is untouchable, blending retro aesthetics, deadpan delivery, ridiculous plots, and Hitler escaping in increasingly ridiculous ways. It’s just perfect.

Then Season 2 drops and boom you’re suddenly in the neon-soaked insanity of the 1980s. It brilliantly skewers 80s action flicks, thrillers, and everything from Miami Vice to Power Rangers (which wasn't the 80s but I'll let it slide,) all while keeping the same deliciously chaotic tone. This season spawned the infamous "agent Hitler, FBI" meme. (Hitler always escapes in a crazy manner, often in really obvious disguises or schemes.)

The whole show only lasted two seasons, which is a crime against humanity and comedy. But one thing stayed gloriously consistent across both: the mission. No matter the time, no matter the absurdity, the goal was always, cue the dramatic music and the chief's gravely voice: “KILL. ADOLF. HITLER.”
Show 18
Look Around You
Look Around You Season 1 is flawless. It’s one of the funniest and most underrated pieces of absurdist comedy ever made. Styled as a dead-serious parody of 1970s–1980s British educational science videos, it takes the dry tone of in-class filmstrips and injects it with pure surreal madness.

Each episode explores a different "scientific" topic—like how to make whiskey from deadly toxins, test if ants can build igloos, determine the exact number of shoes a spider needs for a fancy party, or develop a method of ghost communication using a musical synthesizer and a Bunsen burner. It’s like Monty Python got high, found an old school projector, and went rogue.

Season 2, unfortunately, ditched the format in favor of a fictional 1980s-style tech and pop culture gameshow. While the production values were still great, most of the humor didn’t land nearly as well—it just didn’t have the same razor-sharp absurdity or charm. Still, that first season? Legendary. Science has never been more stupid—and brilliant.
Show 19
Gerhard Reinke's Wanderlust
Gerhard Reinke’s Wanderlust is a criminally overlooked travel-show mockumentary that’s funny for the most part, blending dry awkward humor with straight-up absurdity. Gerhard, a clueless and strangely endearing German traveler, bumbles his way around the globe on what’s supposed to be a serious travel series—but ends up being a chaotic string of bizarre misadventures.

His antics are wildly varied: he contracts herpes from kissing the Blarney Stone in Ireland, gets addicted to coca leaves in South America, gets a hotel room in Mexico only for a black light to reveal copious semen stains, and somehow ends up fighting the lake monster Champ in Burlington, Vermont...right after picking dreadlocks out of his soup at lunch.

It’s awkward, weird, and often unexpectedly hilarious.

UNFORTUNATELY, it is essentially lost media... it was never released on DVD and was only briefly was it on streaming before streaming really even took off, what remains today are very low-quality resolution videos on Youtube and similar websites. I wish it was released on video so I could have it in my archive!
Show 20
Millenium
Millennium stars Lance Henriksen—yep, the same gravel-voiced legend from Pumpkinhead—as Frank Black, a former FBI profiler with the unsettling ability to see through the eyes of killers. Set in the shadowy final years of the 20th century, the show dives deep into crime, prophecy, and paranoia, all wrapped in that classic late-90s gloom. It starts grounded but quickly veers into the surreal and spiritual. Alongside serial killers and conspiracies, the series brings in angels, zombies, and even a pack of demons that appear to mortals as humans who exist solely to make people miserable in their everyday lives. It's bleak, intense, and absolutely fascinating. Truly a maserpiece.
Show 21
Dark Skies (1996 series)
Dark Skies is another entry in the ‘aliens walk among us’ genre, set against the backdrop of 1960s conspiracy and Cold War tensions. It follows government agent John Loengard as he uncovers the truth about an alien species called the Hive infiltrating Earth. While it’s clearly trying to ride the success of The X-Files, it’s far less nuanced. The tone, pacing, and vibe feel way more in line with the first season of the 1988 War of the Worlds TV series—grim, urgent, and very "men in black vs aliens" with a pulpy edge. It’s not bad, and it’s got some cool moments, but don’t expect epic writing or the layered depth of X-Files. It’s more of a hidden gem with a cult following than a masterpiece.
Show 21
The X-Files
The X-Files is the gold standard of paranormal TV, covering everything from cryptids to aliens and just about every strange phenomenon in between. It follows FBI agents Fox Mulder (the more open-minded believer,) and Dana Scully (the science-minded, grounded, down to earth one,) as they investigate unexplained cases and chase rumors of the paranormal—some grounded in folklore, others buried in government conspiracy. While the show is mostly serious and surprisingly well nuanced, it’s not afraid to get wonderfully weird. A handful of offbeat, even comedic episodes pop up now and then, but they never feel out of place; Somehow, those stranger stories fit right in and only add to the show’s eerie and unpredictable charm.
Show 22
Married with Children
Married with Children is a brutally honest side-splitting sitcom that flips the wholesome family show trope on its head. At the center is Al Bundy: the living, breathing embodiment of the overworked, underappreciated American working man. He’s crude, unfiltered, grumpy, and gloriously bitter, yet somehow totally relatable.

Once a high school football star, now a disgruntled shoe salesman with a sarcastic streak and a hate-hardened love for his dysfunctional family, Al anchors the show’s unapologetically raunchy and irreverent humor. With a lazy, nagging wife, two chaotic kids, and a never-ending stream of terrible luck, Al’s misery is our comedy gold. The show was outrageous, politically incorrect, and proud of it — and that's exactly what made it so great.
Show 23
The Golden Girls
The Golden Girls is one of those rare sitcoms that sneaks up on you — full of charm, sharp wit, and a cast of older women who out-comedy most shows even today. It’s centered around four sassy, outspoken ladies sharing a house in Miami: sarcastic Dorothy, sweetly naive Rose, sultry Blanche, and savage little Sophia, whose one-liners could level a room.

And yeah... no man likes to admit it, but it’s a great show. The writing is clever, the chemistry is off the charts, and somehow every episode manages to be hilarious, heartfelt, and just plain fun. Whether you're in it for the cheesecake or the zingers, The Golden Girls delivers.
Show 24
Becker
Becker stars Ted Danson as Dr. John Becker, a cranky, no-nonsense Bronx doctor who somehow still has a heart buried beneath all that sarcasm and disdain for the human race. He runs a tiny practice where he barks at patients, berates his nurse, and grumbles about life—but always ends up doing the right thing, whether he likes it or not.

The show thrives on Becker’s relentless negativity clashing with the kindness (and quirks) of those around him, like blind newspaper stand owner Jake, clueless but lovable Bob, and sassy diner owner Reggie. It’s sharp, cynical, and full of dry humor, yet still manages to sneak in warmth and charm when you least expect it. A perfect watch if you like your sitcoms grumpy with a side of genuine.
Show 25
Drake & Josh
Drake & Josh is a classic Nickelodeon sitcom about two totally opposite stepbrothers trying to survive high school, sibling chaos, and their devilishly smart little sister, Megan. Drake’s the cool, lazy, guitar-playing ladies' man. Josh? The nerdy, awkward, lovable goofball. Together? Absolute comedy gold.

The show's slapstick humor, over-the-top situations, and unforgettable catchphrases still hit just right. Whether it's the infamous “Hug me, brotha!” or "SPHERICAL!" or Josh losing it over Oprah, the laughs never really age. Even years later, it’s one of those shows you can rewatch and still crack up like it’s your first time.
Show 27
Mad TV
MADtv was pure comedy gold from start to finish. It was raw, edgy, and absolutely unafraid to be weird, offensive, or just plain ridiculous—and that’s exactly what made it great. With iconic recurring characters, killer impressions, and biting parodies, it consistently delivered gut-busting sketches that pushed boundaries in ways SNL only wished it could.

Despite what some critics or (Simpsons jokes) might've implied, everyone I’ve talked to agrees: MADtv was the superior sketch show. It didn’t rely on celebrity cameos to carry weak writing—it just brought the funny, week after week. Underrated? Definitely. But for those who watched it, it was unforgettable.
Show 28
All That
All That was a groundbreaking and hilarious sketch comedy show for kids that didn’t talk down to its audience. With its unforgettable cast, absurd skits, and ridiculous characters like Baggin' Saggin' Barry and Coach Kreeton (my favorite,) it felt like SNL’s cooler, younger cousin.

But then came that season... the one where the entire original cast was swapped out... The heart and soul of the show were gone, and what followed felt like a cheap imitation of itself. The energy dipped, the writing got much-weaker, and it just wasn’t the same. What started as must-watch TV quickly became background noise, and eventually, unwatchable. Still, those early seasons? Absolute gold.
Show 29
Kids in the Hall
Kids in the Hall was a brilliant, absurd, and wonderfully twisted Canadian sketch comedy show that pushed every envelope it could find. With a cast that played everything—men, women, weirdos, businessmen, a washed out politician "addicted to pussy-drinks," and the occasional talking chicken—it delivered a mix of dry wit, surreal humor, and biting satire that still holds up today.

From “I’m crushing your head!” to Dave Foley in drag delivering deadpan lines, the show was unafraid to get weird, smart, and dark, often all in the same sketch. It wasn’t just funny; it was weirdly insightful and weirdly Canadian in the best possible way. An underground comedy classic that’s still got plenty of kick.
Show 30
“I came here Folf things up and chew bubblegum...”
Folf Piper
They Live
A down-on-his-luck drifter discovers a pair of sunglasses that reveal a hidden alien invasion controlling humanity through subliminal messages. With brutal fistfights, eerie mind control, and a healthy dose of anti-consumerist satire, this John Carpenter cult classic is part sci-fi, part social commentary—and all attitude. Famous one-liner: "I'm here to kick ass and chew bubblegum... and I'm all out of gum."
Show 31
“Folf de-zombifying the mall”
Folf of the Dead
Dawn of the Dead (1978)
When the zombie apocalypse hits full swing, four survivors take refuge in a shopping mall—because where better to ride out the end of the world than surrounded by food, guns, and mannequins? George A. Romero’s gory sequel to Night of the Living Dead blends flesh-eating horror with sharp jabs at consumer culture, creating a bloody, brilliant classic that's both brainy and... full of brains. Quite possibly the best zombie movie ever made.
Show 32
Day of the Dead (1985)
Deep underground a group of scientists and soldiers bicker, break down, and battle the undead as the world above collapses. Tensions boil, experiments get gruesome, and one zombie named Bub learns a few new tricks. Romero’s bleakest, bloodiest, and most claustrophobic entry delivers savage gore, cynical commentary, and unforgettable scares—quite possibly the second best zombie movie ever made.
Show 33
“My liver is to buried separate with full honors.”
Folf Wild Geese
The Wild Geese
A group of aging British mercenaries is hired to rescue a deposed African leader from behind enemy lines. Led by the ever-grizzled Richard Burton, with Roger Moore and Richard Harris in tow, the mission goes sideways fast in this gritty, bullet-riddled tale of loyalty, betrayal, and stiff upper lips under fire. Explosions, cigar chomping, and 1970s testosterone abound. Skip the direct-to-video sequel, though.
Show 34
Hell Comes to Frogtown
In a post-apocalyptic wasteland where fertility is rare and mutant frogs run the show (yes, really), the government sends one of the last virile men—Sam Hell—on a mission to rescue captive women. Played by none other than pro-wrestling legend Roddy Piper; who was apparently very busy saving the world in 1988 between this and They Live. Campy, bizarre, and proudly low-budget, this cult classic is equal parts sci-fi, sleaze, and satire. A surprisingly fun lesser-known 80s gem.
Show 35
America 3000
Centuries after nuclear war, Earth is ruled by warrior women and grunting man-slaves. But one scrappy survivor from the male underclass teaches himself to read, stumbles onto a hidden cache of ancient weapons with their manuals, and—with his newfound literacy—unlocks the power to fight back. It's Mad Max meets Saturday morning cartoon in this delightfully cheesy, neon-tinted vision of post-apocalyptic rebellion.
Show 36
Johnny Dangerously
Johnny Dangerously is a fast-paced, tongue-in-cheek gangster comedy starring Michael Keaton as a kind-hearted guy named Johnny Kelly who turns to a life of crime to pay for his mother’s medical bills. Under the name Johnny Dangerously, he becomes a beloved mobster with a heart of gold — suave, smart, and cool under pressure.

The film parodies classic gangster tropes with absurd one-liners, goofy violence, and running gags like the overly censored profanity of rival gangster Roman Moronie, who misuses words like “fargin’ icehole” and “bastige.”

Things get complicated when Johnny’s brother Tommy becomes a crusading district attorney determined to bring down organized crime — unaware his big brother is public enemy #1.

Full of over-the-top characters, slapstick chaos, and fourth-wall-breaking humor, the movie lovingly mocks old-school crime flicks with quotable absurdity. “My mother did that to me once... once.”
Show 37
UHF
UHF (1989) is a delightfully absurd comedy starring “Weird Al” Yankovic as George Newman, a daydreaming slacker who unexpectedly inherits a failing UHF television station. With zero budget and even less supervision, George turns the station into a chaotic goldmine of bizarre programming—like Wheel of Fish, Conan the Librarian, and Gandhi II. Along the way, he battles evil network execs, boosts a janitor to local stardom, and basically turns a disaster into a cult TV revolution.

It’s a rapid-fire spoof-fest, stuffed with parodies, off-the-wall characters, and the kind of surreal humor that defined Weird Al’s career. Think of it as the spiritual cousin to Airplane! or The Kentucky Fried Movie, but with more Twinkie wiener sandwiches.

UHF isn’t just a silly movie—it’s one of my all-time favorites. It totally nails that blend of anarchic, no-holds-barred comedy and heart, and like the underdog station itself, it’s got that scrappy charm that sticks with you.
Show 38
Dinosaurs
Dinosaurs is a cult classic sitcom produced by Michael Jacobs and The Jim Henson Company, set in a world of anthropomorphic dinosaurs living in a modern, suburban society that eerily mirrors our own. It follows the Sinclair family—Earl, Fran, Robbie, Charlene, Baby (“Not the mama!”), and Grandma Ethyl—as they bumble through everything from work life and teenage rebellion to environmentalism and corporate corruption
 all while wearing foam latex puppet suits with animatronic heads. Yes, really.

What starts off as a goofy, family-friendly satire quickly reveals itself to be shockingly sharp. The show wasn’t afraid to tackle serious issues like sexual harassment, censorship, and consumerism—all under the mask of a dino comedy with fart jokes.

And let’s be real: you love it. It’s one of everyones favorites because it strikes that rare balance between surreal puppetry, razor-sharp writing, and that delicious absurd humor. It even ends with one of the darkest—and most unforgettable—finales in TV history.

Dinosaurs is weird, bold, hilarious, and criminally underappreciated.
Show 39
“Folf D-FENS”
Folf Foster
Falling Down
Falling Down follows William Foster (played by Michael Douglas), a recently laid-off defense worker who, frustrated by the social and economic decay around him, abandons his car in a Los Angeles traffic jam and begins walking across the city. As he encounters various everyday frustrations—ranging from fast food service to gang violence—his behavior becomes increasingly violent and erratic. Meanwhile, a soon-to-retire LAPD detective (played by Robert Duvall) tries to track him down. The film explores themes of alienation, anger, and the American dream unraveling.
Show 40
“I'll be back.”
Folf Terminator
The Terminator
A cyborg assassin is sent from a post-apocalyptic future to kill Sarah Connor, the woman destined to birth humanity’s savior. A soldier from the future races to protect her, triggering a brutal chase through 1980s L.A.

Part sci-fi thriller, part horror, it’s a gritty, neon-drenched classic that launched a franchise and gave us the legendary line: “I’ll be back.”
Show 41
“Tell me something, would you? Are you fellas really with the Internal Revenue Service?”
Folf Omega Man
The Omega Man
Charlton Heston stars as the last (uninfected) man in a plague-ravaged future where a bio-war has turned most of humanity into nocturnal, cult-like mutants. As he battles loneliness, guilt, and “The Family,” he searches for a cure — and maybe a reason to keep going.

A groovy, post-apocalyptic riff on the short story I Am Legend, packed with '70s attitude, trench coats, and existential doom.
Show 42
Folf Plissken
Folf Plissken
Escape from New York
In a dystopian future where Manhattan is a giant prison, the U.S. President crashes inside — and only one man can get him out: Snake Plissken, an eye-patched ex-soldier turned outlaw.

Armed, grumpy, and reluctantly patriotic, Snake has 24 hours to save the President
 or die trying.
Show 43
The Dirty Dozen
A tough Army major is assigned an impossible mission: train twelve convicted military prisoners for a deadly behind-enemy-lines suicide raid on Nazi officers.

Violent, rebellious, and totally unorthodox, the dozen fight like hell — and blow a lot of it up.
Show 44
Escape from L.A
Fifteen years after the events of Escape from New York, Snake Plissken is once again forced into a one-man mission — this time into the anarchic ruins of Los Angeles, now a penal colony cut off by a massive earthquake.

His job? Recover a stolen superweapon that could shut down the world’s tech. Along the way, he battles mutant surgeons, surfer gangs, and corrupt officials — all with his trademark snarl and don’t-give-a-damn attitude.

It’s cheesier, sleazier, and way more bonkers than the original
 and that’s kind of the fun.
Show 45
"If it bleeds, we can kill it."
Folf Predator
Predator
An elite military rescue team, led by the biceps and one-liners of Arnold Schwarzenegger, is dropped into the Central American jungle — but their mission quickly turns into a fight for survival when they’re hunted by a nearly invisible alien predator.

Armed with heat vision, cloaking tech, and a knack for spine removal, the creature picks them off one by one.

It’s macho, suspenseful, and gloriously over-the-top — part war movie, part sci-fi slasher, and all testosterone.
Show 46
RoboFolf
Folf RoboCop
RoboCop
In a crime-ridden future Detroit, a murdered cop is resurrected as RoboCop — a heavily armored, law-enforcing cyborg with a hidden human soul. Programmed to serve and protect, he begins to uncover the dark corporate conspiracy that created him.

Ultraviolent, satirical, and weirdly heartfelt, RoboCop is part action flick, part dystopian warning, and 100% iconic.

Dead or alive, you're watching this classic.
Show 47
"The only good bug, is a dead bug."
Folf Starship Troopers
Starship Troopers
In a future where citizenship is earned through military service, Johnny Rico and his high school buddies enlist to fight a brutal war against giant alien bugs. What starts as a flashy sci-fi action flick quickly reveals itself as a biting satire of propaganda, patriotism, and space-age jingoism.

Bug guts, bombast, and brain-sucking — all wrapped in a beautifully dumb-smart package.
Show 48
Alien
When the crew of the Nostromo investigates a distress signal on a desolate planet, they bring something back — and it’s not friendly. One by one, a sleek, acid-bleeding alien stalks them through the ship’s dark corridors, and Ripley emerges as the lone survivor in a slow-burn nightmare of claustrophobic terror.

A masterclass in sci-fi horror, Alien is cold, quiet, and terrifying — in space, no one can hear you scream.
Show 49
"Game over, man."
Folf Aliens
Aliens
Ellen Ripley returns to the alien-infested nightmare she barely survived — this time with a squad of cocky space marines, bigger guns, and a whole hive of Xenomorphs waiting to ruin their day.

What starts as a rescue mission turns into a relentless survival fight, as Ripley faces not just the monsters, but motherhood, betrayal, and the iconic Alien Queen herself.

More action, more acid, more quotable lines. This time... it’s war.
Show 50
Return of the Living Dead
A punk-fueled horror-comedy where a toxic gas accidentally reanimates the dead—who now crave brains. Chaos erupts as a group of misfits battles the unstoppable undead in a graveyard leading to gore, laughs, and 80s attitude. Not related to Romero’s films, but it did give us talking zombies
 and that unforgettable naked cemetery dance. Oh yeah, and tarman the black-goo-covered zombie.
Show 51
Return of the Living Dead Part II
A toxic gas leaks again, but this time the undead invasion hits a small town full of clueless kids, cheesy jokes, and electric brain-chomping chaos. It’s goofier, slimier, and way more cartoonish than the first—and honestly, I think it’s the better one. More fun, more laughs, and that zombie Michael Jackson cameo was gold.
Show 52
Alien Avengers (aka Welcome to Planet Earth)
A weird little TV gem where a friendly alien family visits the city and the mother and father of the family become street vigilantes: killing criminals with increasing fervor. Drama and further trouble arises when the daughter of the family takes a liking to a local young man and mounting evidence falsely points to him as the vigilante killer. It’s low-budget, cheesy, and totally unforgettable—I saw it on TV as a kid and spent years trying to track it down again because I didn’t know the title. Even harder? Finding a copy of the sequel on DVD. But the offbeat humor, non-chalant attitude of the aliens, and George Wendt made it worth the hunt.
Show 53
Alien Avengers II (aka Aliens Among Us)
The alien parents are out of jail and ready to clean up another small town—this time as the new sheriffs. But their over-the-top idea of justice turns draconian fast, especially when rumors of other aliens lurking nearby throw everything into chaos. Not as good as the first, but it takes a weird turn into backwoods crime conspiracy territory involving shady town dealings. It’s got that same quirky tone, just a little more muddled. Still, after the years it took me to find a copy on DVD, I had to see it through. This one definitely focusses on the parents whereas the first movie focussed heavily on the daughter.
Show 54
Bad Taste
Peter Jackson’s ultra-gory, low-budget debut where aliens come to Earth... to harvest humans for intergalactic fast food. Heads explode, brains leak, and limbs fly in this insane splatterfest that somehow balances gross-out gore with absurd comedy. One of my favorite movies ever—chaotic, creative, and way too much fun for something made with pocket change and sheer madness.
Show 55
Big Trouble in Little China
When trucker Jack Burton gets caught up in a supernatural battle under San Francisco’s Chinatown, he finds himself fighting ancient sorcerers, monsters, and martial arts magic—with absolutely no idea what he’s doing. It’s pure John Carpenter chaos: kung fu, comedy, mysticism, and 80s swagger all crammed into one cult classic. Totally bonkers, endlessly rewatchable, and cooler than a six-demon bag.
Show 56
Red Dawn
When communist forces invade small-town America, a group of high schoolers—code name: Wolverines—go full guerilla to defend their homeland. It’s gritty, violent, and drenched in patriotic fury. The plot was so unapologetically pro-America and anti-communist that director John Milius basically got blacklisted from Hollywood... which, frankly, should be a badge of honor. One of the most hardcore ‘80s “what if” war fantasies ever put to film.
Show 57
Idiocracy
An average Joe wakes up 500 years in the future to find humanity has become dangerously dumb—like, watering crops with sports drinks dumb. What started as a goofy comedy became a chillingly accurate satire. Funny, bleak, and way too on-the-nose, Idiocracy is what happens when anti-intellectualism wins... and Costco has its own zip code.
Show 58
Trancers
Futuristic bounty hunter Jack Deth (played by Tim Thomerson... yeah you wish your name was that cool,) travels back in time—by hijacking his ancestor’s body—to stop zombie-like mind slaves called Trancers and their cult-leader creator. It’s gritty, pulpy, and full of time-travel weirdness with a noir cyberpunk edge. One of my favorite movie series, hands down. Cheesy? Sure. But Jack Deth’s deadpan one-liners and the low-budget sci-fi charm make it pure B-movie bliss.
Show 59
eXistenZ
A virtual reality game designer goes on the run with her bodyguard after an assassination attempt—and soon, neither of them can tell what’s real and what’s just part of the game. Twisted, fleshy, and packed with Cronenberg’s signature bio-tech weirdness, eXistenZ blurs the line between reality and simulation until your brain hurts (in a good way). A mind-bending sci-fi trip that sticks with you like a neural port to the spine.
Show 60
Dollman
Brick Bardo is a grizzled alien cop with a big gun and a bigger attitude—oh, and he’s only 13 inches tall. After crash-landing on Earth, he brings his brand of justice to the streets of New York, taking on gangsters at doll-scale. One of my favorite movies, no question—ridiculous, violent, and totally awesome in that glorious Full Moon way. He may be tiny, but he blows stuff up real big.
Show 61
"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Folf knows!"
Folf Shadow
The Shadow
Armed with mind-clouding powers, a haunted past, and a flowing red scarf, The Shadow lurks in 1930s New York to battle evil—and he does it in style with a pair of custom-built long-slide 1911s that make crime-fighting look damn cool. I may not have been around when the original comics and radio shows ruled the '40s, but this movie proves just how kickass this big-nosed bastard really is. Pulpy, stylish, and criminally underrated.
Show 62
Waxwork
A group of teens visits a mysterious wax museum where each exhibit is a portal to a twisted horror world—step inside, and you’re in the nightmare. Werewolves, vampires, mummies, you name it—this movie throws a whole monster mash at you with buckets of gore and a wicked sense of fun. A cult classic with creative kills, charming practical effects, and pure 80s horror energy. Think Night at the Museum, but everyone's dead and bleeding.
Show 63
Waxwork II: Lost in Time
Not as good as the first, but still a wild ride. This sequel ditches the wax museum and goes full dimension-hopping chaos—slinging our heroes through parodies of horror and sci-fi classics, from haunted houses to Dawn of the Dead-style zombie mall carnage. It’s messier, sillier, and all over the place, but it definitely has its moments. If you liked the first, it’s worth the trip—just expect more time travel and less wax.
Show 64
House (1985)
A troubled writer moves into his aunt’s creepy old home
 and ends up battling ghostly horrors, monsters, war trauma, and one seriously ugly monster. It’s part haunted house, part surreal nightmare, with just enough dark humor to make the scares hit harder. This movie scared the absolute shit out of me as a kid—the creatures, the weirdness, that closet scene?! Burned into my brain forever. A must-watch for 80s horror fans who like their chills with a side of WTF. Oh and George Wendt is the nosey next door neighbor.
Show 65
Major Payne
Major Payne is a military comedy starring Damon Wayans as the hilariously harsh and cartoonishly over-the-top Major Benson Winifred Payne, a career Marine who's abruptly discharged and forced to adapt to civilian life. He ends up taking command of a ragtag group of misfit cadets at a prep school, where his drill-sergeant brutality clashes with their soft suburban antics—until, of course, they start to bond in bizarre and surprisingly heartfelt ways. It’s got slapstick, absurd one-liners, and a surprising dash of warmth beneath all the yelling.

Now look—this really isn’t the kind of movie I’d normally give a second glance. Back in high school, this guy would not shut up about it. Every week it was, “You gotta watch Major Payne!” until one day he literally shoved his copy into my hands like it was the Holy Grail. I figured it was gonna be some painfully clichĂ© kids’ flick—full of cheap gags, lame military cliches, and maybe one too many fart jokes.

But
 I'll admit it. I was kinda shocked. It was actually decent. Damon Wayans somehow turns this barking caricature of a man into a weirdly likable character, and the movie manages to walk a fine line between goofy and genuinely entertaining. It’s not high art, but it’s got heart, and that’s more than I expected.
Show 66
Barb Wire
Barb Wire stars Pamela Anderson as a badass mercenary trying to stay neutral in a war-torn dystopian future. I expected dumb camp and "look at me booooobs" type BS—but I was actually kinda surprised. It’s stylish, unapologetically over-the-top, and has that gritty, comic-book vibe that just works. Pamela totally owns the role, and the movie's got way more attitude and action as well as humor than it gets credit for. A guilty pleasure that doesn’t feel so guilty.
Show 67
Cherry 2000
Cherry 2000 is a quirky, post-apocalyptic sci-fi flick that gives off similar vibes to Barb Wire—gritty wasteland, stylish action, and a badass female lead. This time, it’s Melanie Griffith as a tough-as-nails mercenary hired by a rich guy to trek through dangerous territory and recover parts to repair his malfunctioning robot girlfriend.

It’s weird, it’s wild, and it’s got that same mix of dystopian grit and offbeat charm. Like Barb Wire, it blends action, a touch of romance, and a whole lot of attitude. I ended up really enjoying it. The world feels lived-in and strange in all the right ways, and Melanie Griffith carries it with confidence and a smirk. Definitely worth checking out if you like your apocalypses with a little style and a lot of oddball energy.
Show 68
Hardware
It's a gritty, low-budget post-apocalyptic sci-fi horror flick set in a scorched, cyberpunk future. The plot kicks off when a scavenger finds a piece of old military robot tech—just the skull, really—and sells it as scrap. A guy named Moses "Hard Mo" Baxter, who's on leave from some kind of future military service, buys it as a gift for his girlfriend, a reclusive artist who uses scrap parts in her sculptures.

But surprise! The robot skull turns out to be part of a deadly M.A.R.K. 13 combat droid, a self-repairing, AI-driven killing machine that reactivates and rebuilds itself using whatever parts it can find. Once it's up and running, it starts butchering everyone in her apartment.

It’s tense, brutal, and drenched in that grimy industrial cyberpunk aesthetic—lots of red lighting, rusty metal, and synth music. It’s got themes of overreliance on tech, population control, and post-nuke dystopia, all wrapped up in a killer-robot slasher vibe. Very cult classic, very "what if Terminator had a fever dream in a Nine Inch Nails video."
Show 69
Death Machine
Death Machine is a wild cyberpunk horror-action flick that delivers exactly what you'd expect from a movie called Death Machine—an unstoppable, snarling murderbot built by an evil mega-corporation with zero chill.

Set in a grim, high-tech future, the story follows a new CEO trying to clean up the company's shady defense contracts
 only to discover they’ve already created a top-secret biomechanical killing machine controlled by a totally unhinged programmer. The robot—massive, fast, and terrifying—gets loose, and what follows is a claustrophobic, metal-crunching bloodbath through dark hallways and neon-lit labs.

It’s pure cyberpunk mayhem, with corrupt corporations, rogue AI, and a big dose of anti-authority attitude. Also one of the rare times you'll ever see a FAMAS in a movie.
Show 70
The Lost Battalion (2001)
The Lost Battalion is a gritty war drama based on the true story of a group of U.S. soldiers from the 77th Infantry Division who got cut off and surrounded by German forces in the Argonne Forest during WWI. Led by Major Charles Whittlesey, they held out under brutal conditions with no food, little ammo, and friendly fire raining down—refusing to surrender despite overwhelming odds.

It’s intense, emotional, and unapologetically raw. Basically the Saving Private Ryan of World War I films—grimy, violent, and focused on brotherhood, sacrifice, and survival against impossible odds.
Show 71
Invaders from Mars (1986)
Invaders from Mars is a remake of the 1953 sci-fi classic, directed by Tobe Hooper of Texas Chainsaw Massacre fame. This version cranks up the '80s weirdness with weird alien effects, paranoid small-town vibes, and plenty of rubber-suit creature charm.

The story follows a young boy who sees a UFO land behind his house—and soon realizes the adults around him, including his own parents, are acting strangely. (IE: talking like robots and eating raw meat.) Turns out, aliens are taking over people’s minds, and it’s up to the kid (with help from a school nurse and the military) to stop the invasion.

It’s campy, colorful, and absolutely drenched in that nostalgic, practical-effects-heavy sci-fi horror feel. A little goofy? Sure. But also a loving homage to classic sci-fi with Hooper’s signature weirdness stamped all over it.
Show 72
Them! (1954)
Them! is one of the earliest and best giant monster movies, and honestly? It still holds up. The plot kicks off with a little girl found wandering the New Mexico desert in shock—soon, investigators discover the cause: giant, mutated ants created by atomic testing killed her family.

What sounds like B-movie cheese is actually a surprisingly dark and eerie film that holds up to modern standards, with a slow-burn mystery, stark black-and-white visuals, and a real sense of dread as the ants spread across the country. The early scenes, especially, play more like a dark horror-thriller than a typical creature feature.

Despite the giant insect premise, Them! keeps things grounded and serious, with a constant sense of urgency, and that’s what makes it stand out. The atmosphere is creepy, the acting is solid, and the tension still works even today. It’s not just “good for the '50s”—it’s just plain good.
Show 73
Ghoulies
Ghoulies is a low-budget horror-comedy that rides the coattails of Gremlins but takes a weirder, more occult route. Instead of mischievous mogwai, you get tiny demonic goblin-creatures summoned through black magic by a guy dabbling in the dark arts inside a creepy inherited mansion.

It’s got puppets, pentagrams, glowing eyes, and one of the most memorable VHS covers of the era—yep, the infamous toilet-dwelling ghoulie. It’s not exactly high cinema, but it leans hard into its goofy charm and practical effects, with just enough gore and demonic-shlock to make it a cult classic.

Is it dumb? Yes. Is it fun? Also yes. But like the sequel its also kinda fucked up. Perfect for late-night horror marathons when you want something trashy, creepy, and kinda 80s in a messed-up way.
Show 74
Ghoulies 2
Ghoulies II cranks everything up from the first movie—more monsters, more mayhem, and way darker humor. This time, the pint-sized demons hitch a ride to a failing carnival and take up residence in a haunted house attraction. Naturally, chaos follows.

Unlike the goofier tone of the first film, Ghoulies II veers into much more twisted territory. The humor gets uncomfortable at times—like the scene where the ghoulies literally stab a teenager to death, wrap him like a mummy, and prop him up in the haunted house. The guests? They think it's part of the show and start cheering and clapping. Kinda fucked up. There's also a scene where a ghoulie pops up from a toilet a guys sitting on and bites his ballsack.

It’s gorier, meaner, and still full of creature-feature charm, but this one definitely has an edge that makes it feel way more messed-up. If the first movie was mischievous and campy, this sequel is full-on dark sadism with a carnival backdrop—and somehow that makes it even more memorable in a totally deranged, messed-up kinda way.
Show 75
Killer Klowns from Outer Space
Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1988) is a gloriously weird and unforgettable cult classic where alien clowns land in a small town and start abducting people for food using popcorn guns, cotton candy cocoons, and other circus-themed murder weapons. It's a perfect blend of absurd comedy and low-budget horror, brought to life with wildly creative practical effects and a killer synth soundtrack.

What’s bizarre is that there’s still no sequel, even though the Chiodo Brothers (the original creators) have been talking about one for over a decade. Especially since there’s clearly renewed interest—theme parks have built Killer Klowns haunted attractions for Halloween, the merch shows up in costume shops every year, and now there’s even a multiplayer video game keeping the legacy alive. Not to mention official-licensed releases of covers of the main movie's main theme song.

Also, fair warning: if you’ve got coulrophobia (fear of clowns), this movie might seriously mess you up. These aren’t your average clowns—they’re towering, monstrous, sharp-toothed nightmare fuel wrapped in circus colors. Silly on the surface, terrifying underneath. Good thing I don't; though I have to say the acid-pies in the face scene was kinda uncomfortable as someone with a love of pie-in-the-face humor as a goofy eccentricity.
Show 76
Critters (1-4)
Critters (1–4) is one of those rare B-movie franchises that managed to blend horror, comedy, and hungry little murderballs into something special—at least for the first four films. I’m not gonna list each one out because I'm lazy as fuck, but just know: the original four are the only watchable entries in the series. Everything that came after—whether it's that awful streaming show or the forgettable new movie—is absolutely not worth your time.

The first four flicks take the basic premise—tiny alien creatures with endless teeth and bottomless stomachs—run wild with it, going from small-town chaos to space-alien bounty hunter showdowns and even in-space shenanigans. They're fun, creepy, and just the right kind of weird.

And yeah, despite scaring the hell out of me, this series was somehow my absolute favorite as a kid when it came to monster movies—or at least one of them. Something about those nasty little fuzzballs just stuck with me. Maybe it was the mix of practical effects, goofy humor, and genuine horror. Either way, Critters 1–4 hold up as a cult classic creature-feature binge... and the rest can rot in a space dumpster.
Show 77
Night of the Creeps
Night of the Creeps is an absolute cult gem that blends sci-fi horror, zombie mayhem, and cheesy ‘80s college comedy into one gloriously weird package. It kicks off with alien slug creatures crashing to Earth in the '50s, then jumps to the '80s where the slugs reawaken out of a frozen cadaver—turning people into zombie hosts with worms wriggling out of their mouths.

It’s packed with B-movie goodness, practical gore, and some truly ridiculous one-liners and other memorable lines. "I got good news and bad news, girls. The good news is your dates are here." "What's the bad news?" "They're dead." You’ve got brain slug zombies, axe murderers, frat boys, flamethrowers, and a grizzled detective who seems like he walked in from a completely different, darker movie—and somehow it all works.

It’s funny, gross, and weirdly heartfelt. A love letter to ‘50s creature features and Romero zombie flicks with an ‘80s party movie attitude. If you haven’t seen it, prepare for alien slug-infested chaos.
Show 78
Re-Animator
Re-Animator is a wild, blood-soaked horror-comedy that claims to be based on H.P. Lovecraft’s Herbert West—Reanimator, but let’s be honest: like all “Lovecraft-based” Hollywood movies, it’s extremely loosely adapted—as in, “it has the names and the basic concept, and then it does its own thing.”

Jeffrey Combs is phenomenal as Herbert West, the twitchy, obsessive medical student who invents a glowing green serum that can bring the dead back to life
 badly. What follows is a nonstop parade of exploding guts, reanimated corpses, severed head shenanigans, and pitch-black humor.

It may not be faithful Lovecraft, but it absolutely nails that mad science gone too far energy and delivers one of the most memorable horror films of the ’80s. It’s gory, outrageous, and completely unhinged—in all the right ways.
Show 79
Bride of Re-Animator
Bride of Re-Animator picks up right where the original left off—only this time, Herbert West isn’t content just bringing back the dead. Nope, now he’s trying to build the perfect woman out of assorted corpse parts like a mad scientist at a body buffet.

Jeffrey Combs returns in full unhinged form as Herbert West, still experimenting with his glowing green serum and dragging his increasingly horrified colleague Dan Cain along for the ride. It’s gorier, weirder, and somehow even campier than the first, with re-animated eyeballs on fingers, mutant monstrosities, and a corpse bride that looks like she crawled out of a fever dream.

Like its predecessor, it’s only barely based on Lovecraft—and only in the sense that a cheeseburger is technically a sandwich. But even if it strays far from the source, it’s a gross, gory, and gloriously bizarre sequel that leans hard into the mad science and over-the-top practical effects. Not as tight as the first film, but definitely a bloody good time.
Show 80
The Addams Family
The Addams Family is the original live-action sitcom that brought Charles Addams' macabre cartoon family to life—and it’s still one of the coolest, weirdest shows ever put on TV. This version gave us the iconic black-and-white household where being spooky, kooky, and altogether ooky was just a way of life.

What made it shine was the charm: the lovable John Astin’s delightfully manic Gomez, Carolyn Jones’ elegant and deadpan Morticia, and the whole creepy crew—from hulking butler Lurch to the disembodied hand Thing—living their best gothic lives while confusing the "normal" folks around them.

It’s a sitcom, sure—but with a twist of morbid humor, genuine heart, and an eccentric humor well ahead-of-its-time. The Addams weren’t scary—they were loving, supportive, and way more wholesome than the “normal” people trying to figure them out. It’s not just a classic—it’s a cultural institution that proved being weird is wonderful.
Show 81
The New Addams Family
The New Addams Family (1998–1999) was a Canadian reboot that tried to resurrect the spooky charm of the original '60s classic. It wasn’t bad—in fact, it had a decent cast, a few solid gags, and did a pretty respectable job recreating several classic episodes with a fresh coat of late-‘90s weirdness. There were also a handful of new, original stories mixed in to shake things up.

But despite its effort, it just didn’t quite capture the same gothic charm or crackling chemistry of the original. The humor was a little broader, the tone a little more cartoonish, and the overall vibe leaned more toward kid-friendly slapstick than the sly, morbid wit fans remembered. Think a ghost hunter getting pied in the face by a ghost.

In the end, it quietly vanished into the shadows, like a forgotten cobwebbed relic in the Addams' attic. It’s now surprisingly hard to find, with little fanfare or re-releases—an odd little footnote in the family’s long, undead legacy.
Show 82
My Favorite Martian
My Favorite Martian is one of those classic ‘60s sitcoms that managed to be both wholesome and genuinely entertaining, striking a perfect balance between lighthearted sci-fi fun and charming character comedy.

The show follows Tim O’Hara, a newspaper reporter who discovers a stranded Martian—played with impeccable dry wit by Ray Walston—and decides to hide him as his eccentric “Uncle Martin.” What follows is a steady stream of invisibility, levitation, mind-reading hijinks, and Martin trying to blend into human society while staying one step ahead of nosy neighbors.

Despite the goofy premise, the show has real heart. The chemistry between Martin and Tim (played by Bill Bixby) is what sells it—a buddy comedy disguised as a space-age sitcom. The sci-fi gadgets were fun, the moral lessons subtle, and the writing never talked down to its audience.

Even decades later, it holds up remarkably well, thanks to its clever scripts, likable leads, and a tone that’s silly without being stupid. It’s still a blast to watch, and honestly? More shows could stand to be this weird and warm.
Show 83
The Twilight Zone
The Twilight Zone is the gold standard of anthology television—a timeless blend of science fiction, horror, morality tales, and eerie what-ifs, all wrapped in Rod Serling’s iconic narration and sharp social commentary.

What made the original Twilight Zone so powerful wasn’t just its twist endings or spooky setups—it was how cleverly it held up a mirror to society, sneaking in critiques of war, conformity, paranoia, and human nature under the guise of aliens, time travel, and haunted ventriloquist dummies. Serling, a brilliant writer and staunch advocate for creative freedom, made sure the show stood out—smart, subtle, and with real emotional weight.

Episodes like “Time Enough at Last,” “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street,” and “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” are still referenced today for good reason: they’re chilling, relatable, and often uncomfortably relevant even decades later.

It’s more than just an old black-and-white show. It’s a masterclass in storytelling, proving that with a tight script and a clever idea, you don’t need big effects to leave a big impact. Every episode was a door to another dimension—and we’re still walking through them.
Show 84
Night Gallery
Night Gallery was Rod Serling’s follow-up to The Twilight Zone, and while it never reached the same level of fame, it’s still a dark, moody, and underappreciated gem in the world of horror anthology television.

Where Twilight Zone leaned more into sci-fi and morality plays, Night Gallery fully embraced the gothic, the supernatural, and the psychologically disturbing. Each episode was introduced by Serling himself standing in a gallery of eerie paintings—each one depicting the twisted story to come.

It didn’t always hit the same highs as its predecessor, but when it worked, it really worked. One shining example is the adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s “Pickman’s Model”—a creepy, atmospheric tale about a painter whose monstrous inspiration turns out to be horrifyingly real. It’s one of the rare times early TV dipped directly into Lovecraftian horror—and actually nailed the tone.

If you're a fan of vintage horror with a touch of class and dread, Night Gallery is absolutely worth dusting off. It may lurk in the shadow of Twilight Zone, but it casts a haunting presence all its own.
Show 85
The Outer Limits
The Outer Limits was like the darker, weirder cousin of The Twilight Zone—a black-and-white sci-fi anthology that leaned hard into monsters, madness, and existential dread, all wrapped in moody lighting and that iconic opening line:

“There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture...”

Unlike Twilight Zone, which often dealt with personal morality and irony, The Outer Limits was pure speculative sci-fi horror, often featuring grotesque creatures, alien invasions, government conspiracies, and twisted experiments gone wrong. It pushed boundaries for its time, both visually and thematically, and had a real knack for making you feel uneasy—not just creeped out, but unnerved in a cosmic, "you’re not in control" kind of way.

Episodes like “The Architects of Fear” and “Demon with a Glass Hand” (written by Harlan Ellison) showed off just how smart, haunting, and ahead of its time the show could be. The effects may be vintage, but the ideas still hit hard.

It’s not as widely remembered as Twilight Zone (or even the remake of the series itself,) but if you like your science fiction with a healthy dose of paranoia, the original Outer Limits is a must-watch—creepy, thoughtful, and totally unforgettable.
Show 86
The Outer Limits (1995 series)
The Outer Limits (1995 series,) was a modern revival of the classic 1963 series, and while it ran for a solid seven seasons, it was very much a hit-or-miss affair. Some episodes were genuinely smart, creepy, and thought-provoking—true to the spirit of the original—but others felt like filler with a sci-fi coat of paint slapped on or a writer just venting political agendas.

It definitely wasn’t bad, and when it worked, it delivered solid twists, ethical dilemmas, and that unnerving sense of cosmic horror the franchise is known for. But it wasn’t always consistent—some episodes leaned too far into melodrama, others too far into edgy-for-the-sake-of-it territory or just plain preachy and pretentious. Still, the production values were decent, and it found a loyal audience during its run.

Oddly enough, this remake is now more well-known than the original 1963 series, especially among younger audiences who caught it on late-night cable reruns. It may not have always been on top, but it helped keep the anthology sci-fi format alive in the '90s and early 2000s—and for that, it earns its place in the genre’s weird, glowing hall of fame.
Show 87
Goosebumps
Goosebumps is the classic horror anthology series based on R.L. Stine’s wildly popular book series, and yeah—it was definitely made for younger audiences. But let’s be real: if you grew up mostly in the ‘90s, you probably watched this. It aired everywhere—Fox Kids, YTV, Saturday mornings, after school—it was basically a rite of passage.

Each episode tackled a different creepy tale: haunted masks, evil ventriloquist dummies, werewolves, cursed cameras—you name it. The effects were cheesy, the acting was hit-or-miss, and the scares were PG at best
 but it didn’t matter. When you were a kid, Goosebumps felt creepy in just the right way.

And even now? It’s still a fun rewatch. Sure, it’s tame, but anthology horror is still anthology horror, and there's something comforting about revisiting those spooky, fog-machine-filled childhood memories. It’s campy, it’s nostalgic, and sometimes that’s exactly what you need.
Show 88
The Nightmare Room
The Nightmare Room was a short-lived but memorable horror anthology series based on R.L. Stine’s lesser-known book series of the same name. It aired on Kids’ WB and had a darker, slightly edgier tone than Goosebumps—still made for kids and teens, but with stories that pushed the creep factor a little further. (If I remember right, there was even an episode that was a blatant rip-off of They Live; albeit slightly modified and made for a younger audience.)

Each episode featured a different tale of terror: haunted lockers, cursed mirrors, ghostly warnings, and even sci-fi body horror. It had a spooky intro narrated by James Avery (yep, Uncle Phil from Fresh Prince of Bel-Air), and even featured young guest stars who would go on to be big names—including Amanda Bynes in the very first episode.

While it never reached the popularity of Goosebumps or The Haunting Hour, The Nightmare Room still holds up as a fun, eerie slice of early 2000s kid horror. It had a more serious tone, a bit more bite, and a nice mix of moral lessons and Twilight Zone-style twists. It may be lesser-known, but for fans of creepy anthology shows, it’s absolutely worth digging up from the vault.
Show 89
The Haunting Hour: The Series
R.L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour is one of the best younger-audience-oriented horror anthology series ever made, and honestly? A lot of episodes are absolutely watchable—even creepy—as an adult. Like many fans, I checked it out because I grew up on Goosebumps, expecting something nostalgic but tame. Instead, I got genuinely eerie stories, solid acting, and some episodes that pulled no punches.

One standout episode involves a group of kids who breathe in strange spores that slowly turn them into fungus-controlled zombies, eventually becoming part mushroom themselves. It’s disturbingly well-done, like a mashup of Matango and The Last of Us, complete with body horror, paranoia, and a dark, lingering tone that’s way beyond what you’d expect from a “kids’ show.”

The series didn’t talk down to its audience—it explored fear, death, loss, identity, and all kinds of disturbing "what-ifs" with real atmosphere and style. It’s smarter, darker, and way more intense than Goosebumps was, and it holds up shockingly well for older viewers who appreciate good anthology horror with a twisted edge.
Show 90
Are You Afraid of the Dark?
Are You Afraid of the Dark? (1992 series,) is the spooky campfire show that freaked out an entire generation of ‘90s kids—and I was definitely one of them. The stories were introduced by a group of teens known as The Midnight Society, who would gather around a fire, toss in a handful of "midnight dust," and say the words:

“Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society
”

Each episode was a standalone horror tale—ghosts, demons, haunted objects, evil clowns, cursed video games—you name it. It was just the right mix of eerie and fun, and as a kid in the early ‘90s, some of those episodes were legit nightmare fuel.

There were reboots: One in 1999–2000, which I might have seen—the details are fuzzy but vaguely familiar. Another in 2019, a more modern mini-series style revival I definitely haven't seen... and apparently there’s a third reboot in 2021, but I haven’t seen that one at all either. Still, the original holds up thanks to its creepy atmosphere, solid storytelling, and that iconic opening theme that let you know it was about to get weird. It may have been for kids, but it didn’t always pull its punches—and that’s why we remember it.
Show 91
Tales from the Crypt
Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) is one of the most iconic horror anthology shows ever made—a gory, twisted, and often darkly hilarious series hosted by the cackling, corpse-faced Crypt Keeper, who delivered pun-filled intros like a deranged stand-up comic from the grave.

Adapted from the classic EC horror comics of the 1950s, the show featured big-name directors, top-tier guest stars, and a perfect blend of black comedy, gruesome deaths, and ironic twist endings. It aired on HBO, which meant it could go full tilt on gore, sex, and violence—and it did. A lot. It was campy, stylish, and beautifully over-the-top.

But
 let’s be real. When production moved to England in the final season, things kinda went to hell. The budget dropped, the cast and tone felt off, and the whole show lost most of that gritty, American grindhouse vibe that made the earlier seasons pop. Stories were kinda lame, the charm definitely faded, and the quality dipped hard.

Still, the early seasons are pure horror anthology gold, and the Crypt Keeper remains an absolute legend. If you’ve never watched it—or only remember it from reruns—it’s well worth digging up again. Just maybe
 stop before the final season.
Show 92
Creepshow
Creepshow (1982) is a glorious, blood-soaked love letter to vintage horror comics like Tales from the Crypt and The Vault of Horror—and it's one of the rare anthology horror movies that actually nails it from start to finish. Directed by George A. Romero and written by Stephen King, it’s got everything: ghouls, revenge, bugs, cosmic comeuppance, and plenty of morbid humor.

The film is broken into five segments, all framed by a kid reading a banned horror comic, and it leans hard into comic-book aesthetics with colorful lighting, dramatic panel-style transitions, and over-the-top gore that feels both theatrical and pulpy.

Creepshow oozes style and nostalgia, and even today, it holds up as one of the best horror anthologies ever made. It’s campy, spooky, and just plain fun—a comic book brought to gruesome life with flair.
Show 93
Creepshow II
Creepshow 2 (1987) is the follow-up to the original horror-comic-inspired anthology, and while it doesn’t quite reach the stylish highs of the first film, it’s still a fun, gory ride that sticks to the same formula—three stories, one animated wraparound, and plenty of grim irony.

Directed by Michael Gornick and written by George A. Romero (based on Stephen King’s stories), the sequel feels a bit cheaper and smaller in scope, but it still delivers on the dark humor and creepy comeuppance.

Creepshow 2 may feel scaled-down, but it still has that pulpy heart and twisted spirit that made the first one a cult classic. It’s not as polished, but it’s got just enough slime, vengeance, and EC Comics energy to earn its place.
Show 94
Creepshow (the series)
Creepshow the series started off strong, capturing the campy, comic-book horror vibe that made the original Creepshow movie a cult classic. The first couple of seasons had some solid entries—fun practical effects, creative monster concepts, and a good mix of horror and dark humor. For fans of anthology horror, it felt like a promising revival.

But after a while, things took a sharp dive. The later seasons often swapped creepy storytelling for heavy-handed, preachy themes that felt more like lectures from the Reddit-type SJWs than horror tales. Instead of spine-tingling twists or clever irony, episodes started focusing more on forced social commentary and politics, and not in a subtle, Twilight Zone-style way—we’re talking full-on "message first, story second."

The charm and balance that made early episodes fun just got buried under cringey, overly woke scripts that forgot what Creepshow was supposed to be: pulp horror with a wicked sense of fun.

It’s no surprise the series eventually got the axe. What began as a nostalgic return to form ended up feeling more like a Twitter soapbox, and horror fans noticed. You can have themes—but you also need the monsters, the scares, and the bite. Sadly, the show lost that balance along the way.
Show 95
Night of the Living Dead (1990 remake)
Night of the Living Dead is one of the rare horror remakes that not only honors the original—it actually improves on it in some key ways. Directed by Tom Savini (yes, the makeup FX legend), this version takes George A. Romero’s 1968 classic and gives it a fresh coat of blood while staying true to the grim, claustrophobic tone that made the original so iconic.

Now, don’t get me wrong—the 1968 film is a landmark in horror history. But let’s be honest: this remake is tighter, more intense, and better paced, with stronger performances and updated effects that still hold up. Tony Todd as Ben is phenomenal—cool-headed, commanding, and tragic—and Patricia Tallman’s Barbara isn’t the helpless wreck from the original. She’s a full-blown badass by the end, and her arc gives the story a more satisfying, modern edge.

What really sets it apart is that it doesn’t try to outshine the original with flash—it sharpens it. It’s meaner, smarter, and just plain more compelling. And let’s face it: it’s the only Romero remake that’s not just good—it’s arguably better.

Underrated? Absolutely. Forgotten by casual fans? Sadly, yes. But if you love zombie movies and haven’t seen this one, you’re missing out on one of the best do-overs horror’s ever produced.
Show 96
The Blob (1988)
The Blob is a slick, gory remake of the 1958 sci-fi classic—but unlike the original, this one pulls no punches. Directed by Chuck Russell and co-written by Frank Darabont, it ditches the cheesy charm for full-blown ‘80s horror intensity.

This time, the blob isn’t just a mysterious alien—it’s part of a government experiment gone wrong. It devours everything in its path, melting flesh and oozing through vents with some of the nastiest practical effects of the decade. The cast includes a young Kevin Dillon as the unlikely bad-boy hero and Shawnee Smith as a tough, take-charge girl.

It’s fast-paced, mean, and way bloodier than you'd expect, with a sharp anti-authority streak and surprisingly strong horror chops. A cult favorite, and honestly? One of the best horror remakes ever made.
Show 97
The Stuff
The Stuff is a bizarre, satirical horror flick from cult director Larry Cohen that asks the important question:

"What if the next big snack food was actually a sentient, flesh-eating parasite?"

Marketed like ice cream and loved by the masses, The Stuff is a mysterious white goo that people can’t stop eating—literally. It’s delicious, addictive, and just so happens to take over your brain and hollow out your body from the inside. Yum!

The film follows a corporate saboteur, a kid who knows something’s wrong, and a handful of other oddball characters trying to uncover the truth behind the snack sensation. It’s part body horror, part corporate satire, and part B-movie madness, with some wonderfully gooey practical effects and a big helping of what-the-hell energy.

Weird, clever, and totally one of a kind, The Stuff blends horror and social commentary in a way that’s still relevant—and unsettling—today. Just remember: “Enough is never enough.”
Show 98
Demon Knight
Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight is the first feature-length film spun off from the Tales from the Crypt TV series—and honestly? It absolutely delivers. It’s a bloody, demon-packed, horror-action thrill ride that feels like a perfect extension of the show: creepy, gory, funny, and full of attitude.

The story takes place almost entirely in a rundown church-turned-motel, where a drifter named Brayker turns out to be the key to protecting an ancient relic that holds the last bit of holy blood keeping demons at bay.

What follows is a siege-style standoff between a group of misfits and a horde of shape-shifting demons, complete with awesome practical effects, brutal kills, and that signature Crypt blend of gore and gallows humor. Plus, the Crypt Keeper opens and closes the film, reminding you it’s all in good horrifying fun.

Demon Knight is grimy, energetic, and pure ‘90s horror gold—arguably one of the best things the Tales from the Crypt brand ever produced.
Show 99
A Boy and His Dog
A Boy and His Dog is a bleak, weird, post-apocalyptic sci-fi cult classic based on the novella by Harlan Ellison. It follows Vic, a young scavenger wandering the nuclear wastelands with his telepathic dog, Blood—who’s actually the smart one of the pair. The movie blends dark comedy, brutal survivalism, and disturbing social commentary in equal measure.

While it's often remembered for its grim humor and bizarre world, some parts are genuinely unsettling, especially the scenes in the underground society. There, Vic is lured into a creepy, sterile dystopia of pale-faced, emotionless people wearing painted-on smiles, where he’s expected to, uh
 perform reproductive duties for the “good of the community.” It’s cult-ish, claustrophobic, and deeply unnerving.

It’s not for everyone, but the film has a biting, nihilistic tone and a unique voice that sticks with you. Funny, ugly, and disturbing in all the right ways, it’s a one-of-a-kind post-apocalypse film with a very twisted leash.
Show 100
Planet of the Apes (the first 5 films; 1968-1973)
The original five Planet of the Apes films are one of the most ambitious and oddly poetic sci-fi sagas ever put to screen. I love them all—they each have their own distinct tone and style, like weird chapters in a dystopian time-traveling prophecy that somehow works.

Planet of the Apes (1968) – The classic. A haunting, twist-ending masterpiece where Charlton Heston crashes on a strange planet ruled by intelligent apes. Heavy on allegory, and still one of the best endings in movie history.

Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970) – Things get weirder and darker fast. Psychic mutant humans worshiping a nuclear bomb underground? Yes please. It's bleaker, more violent, and finishes with a world-altering ending.

Escape from the Planet of the Apes (1971) – Total shift. Now it’s apes in modern-day Earth trying to blend in and explain the coming downfall of humanity. Surprisingly emotional, and sadder than you'd expect.

Conquest of the Planet of the Apes (1972) – Revolution time. Caesar leads the apes in an uprising against an oppressive, human regime. Brutal, powerful, and one of the most politically charged in the series. Not my favorite one.

Battle for the Planet of the Apes (1973) – My personal favorite. It’s smaller in scale but full of heart. Set in the aftermath of the revolution, it shows Caesar trying to create peace between apes and humans in a fragile new society. It’s about hope, struggle, and the idea that the future isn’t set in stone. It may not be the biggest or flashiest, but it hits different—it’s the emotional core of the whole saga.

Each film adds something to the story, and together they form this weird, tragic, strangely beautiful sci-fi loop. An unforgettable series I’ll always love.
Show 101
Contamination
Contamination is a slimy, bloody Italian sci-fi horror flick that proudly squashes Alien and Invasion of the Body Snatchers into one thing in its own style—and crashes headfirst into full-on Fulci territory. Directed by Luigi Cozzi, it’s packed with exploding torsos, gallons of alien slime, lots of gunfire, and a plot that’s barely hanging together by a string of synths and sweat—and honestly? That’s exactly what makes it awesome.

The story involves mysterious green alien eggs smuggled to Earth via a derelict ship. These pulsating, radioactive suckers explode on contact, melting people from the inside out in gloriously gory fashion. A trio of investigators (including a washed-up astronaut and a hard-nosed colonel) try to unravel the conspiracy, which leads to a tropical hideout, brainwashed humans, and a giant alien cyclops queen just chillin’ underground.

It feels like Fulci by way of a VHS fever dream—grimy visuals, bizarre dialogue, choppy editing, and synth-heavy music by Goblin. Is the plot coherent? Absolutely not. Is it a trashy, oozing good time? You bet your exploding intestines it is.

If you're into Euro-horror, alien guts, and ‘80s sci-fi that gives zero damn about logic, Contamination is a glorious mess that belongs in your cult movie night lineup.
Show 102
Hell of the Living Dead (aka Virus and Night of the Zombies)
Hell of the Living Dead (1980)—also known as Virus or Night of the Zombies—is pure Italian horror chaos at its finest. Directed by Bruno Mattei (under the name “Vincent Dawn,” because of course), it’s a low-budget, high-body-count zombie flick that’s utterly awesome... and completely incoherent.

The basic plot? Some kind of chemical leak at a shady research facility causes a zombie outbreak. A squad of commandos gets sent in, meets a reporter and her crew, and they all head into the African jungle to investigate—cue tons of zombies, recycled stock footage of animals, and action scenes that look like they were filmed during lunch breaks.

It plays like a poorly edited together fever dream, with no restraint on meaningless random scenes like topless dancing or crossdressing for some reason. The gore is plentiful, the dubbing is ridiculous, and the logic? Gone, like the flesh on a zombie bite. Characters teleport across locations, plot threads vanish, and the “science” behind the zombie outbreak is hilarious nonsense—but it doesn’t matter. You’re here for exploding heads, grimy atmosphere, and synth stings, not Oscar-worthy storytelling.

Like most Italian horror of the era, it’s a glorious, sleazy, blood-soaked mess—and that’s what makes it unforgettable. Grab some popcorn, turn off your brain, and let the zombie madness wash over you.
Show 103
Zombi 2 (aka Zombi, Zombie, Zombie Flesh Eaters, or Island of the Living Dead)
Zombi 2 (1979)—often just called Zombi—is Lucio Fulci’s gory, atmospheric, and utterly insane masterpiece, and one of the best (and bloodiest) zombie films to ever stagger out of Italy. Marketed as an unofficial sequel to Dawn of the Dead (which was titled Zombi in Italy), Fulci took the basic concept of the undead and cranked the horror, gore, and surreal dread up to eleven.

The plot? Technically, it's about a group of people traveling to a cursed island to investigate a mysterious virus. What it's actually about is zombies rising from tropical graves, maggot-covered corpses, voodoo curses, eye-gouging, and that one scene where a zombie fights a shark underwater—yes, really. It’s gloriously deranged.

As with many of Fulci’s works, the story barely holds together, but the mood, music, and set pieces are so striking it doesn’t matter. The undead here are grotesque, slow, and decaying to the bone—some of the creepiest zombies ever put to screen. And the gore? Top-tier Fulci: squishy, excessive, and unforgettable.

Zombi 2 isn’t just a knockoff—it’s a genre-defining classic of Euro horror. Unapologetically gross, beautifully shot, and soaked in dread, it’s an absolute must-watch for zombie fans and gorehounds alike.
Show 104
Zombi 3
Zombi 3 is the gloriously chaotic, half-baked "sequel" to Fulci’s Zombi 2—except this time, it’s only kind of Fulci’s movie. He started directing it, got sick (or fed up), and the reins were handed off to Bruno Mattei and Claudio Fragasso, the tag team behind other Italian cult gems like Hell of the Living Dead and Troll 2. And yes, the result is exactly the kind of beautiful disaster you’d expect.

The plot Sort of exists... A military experiment unleashes a virus called Death One, which turns people into fast-moving, screaming zombies—because why not? After an infected corpse gets cremated, the virus spreads through the air, and soon soldiers, civilians, and random people who wandered into the script are all fighting for survival.

What Zombi 3 lacks in coherence or logic, it makes up for with:

Ridiculous pacing (zombies appear instantly, vanish just as fast)

Exploding heads and machete mayhem

A completely bonkers synth soundtrack

Zombies using weapons (yes, one throws a grenade)

It’s a glorious mess of Italian splatter, ‘80s action, and horrendous dubbing, stitched together with about as much grace as a heavily-used gas station restroom. It doesn’t follow Zombi 2, or even really make sense, but it’s wildly entertaining in that “so bad it’s amazing” way.

If you're in it for logic, look elsewhere. But if you want a sleazy, blood-soaked ride through Italian zombie madness, Zombi 3 is trash cinema at its finest.
Show 105
Zombi 4: After Death (aka After Death and Zombie 4)
Zombi 4 is a gloriously trashy, over-the-top Italian zombie flick directed by Claudio Fragasso (yes, the same mastermind behind Troll 2). It has basically nothing to do with the previous Zombi films, but it proudly slaps that “Zombi 4” label on anyway—and honestly, it’s all part of the charm.

The “plot” (and we’re being generous here) involves a voodoo ritual gone wrong on a remote island, unleashing a plague that turns people into glowing-eyed, fast-moving zombies. Years later, a group of mercenaries and scientists return to the island—because reasons—and pretty soon, it’s machine guns vs. undead in the jungle, with lots of sweat, fog, screaming, and wonderfully bad dubbing. If I'm not mistaken this is the one where out of the blue a mercenary randomly says "THIS MUSIC IS MAKING ME HORNY!"

The tone is all over the place: part military action movie, part supernatural horror, part heavy metal music video. There’s no logic, the acting is delightfully wooden, and the pacing is about as stable as a drunk zombie on roller skates—but it’s packed with cheesy fun and low-budget enthusiasm.

If you like your zombie movies loud, dumb, and dripping with late-’80s Italian sleaze, Zombi 4: After Death is pure B-movie gold. Just turn off your brain and let the undead madness wash over you.
Show 106
City of the Living Dead (aka The Gates of Hell)
City of the Living Dead is one of Lucio Fulci’s most infamous nightmares, and the first in his unofficial “Gates of Hell” trilogy. This is peak Italian horror: surreal, gore-soaked, barely coherent, and absolutely dripping with atmosphere and dread.

The story (kind of) follows a priest who hangs himself in a cemetery, which somehow opens one of the seven gates to hell, causing the dead to rise in a small New England town. A reporter and a psychic team up to investigate and stop the apocalypse, but plot logic quickly takes a backseat to vomiting guts, bleeding eyes, brain-grabbing zombies, and fog machines cranked to 11.

This movie doesn’t play by normal horror rules. It’s like a fever dream soaked in entrails and existential dread—the kind of film where you ask, “Wait, what just happened?” but you’re too mesmerized (or horrified) to care. The gore is some of Fulci’s most iconic, and the eerie score by Fabio Frizzi helps tie it all together into one haunting experience.

City of the Living Dead isn’t here to make sense—it’s here to crawl under your skin and stay there. If you love Italian horror that feels like a waking nightmare, this one’s essential viewing.
Show 107
An American Werewolf in London
An American Werewolf in London is a brilliant blend of horror, dark comedy, and jaw-dropping special effects, directed by John Landis. It follows two American backpackers, David and Jack, as they trek across the English countryside and stumble into werewolf territory. One dies, the other gets bitten—and things get hairy real fast.

After surviving the attack, David recuperates in London, only to be haunted (literally) by his undead friend Jack, who warns him that he’s going to turn into a werewolf at the next full moon and start killing people. David’s descent is both tragic and darkly funny, leading to one of the most iconic transformation scenes in cinema history—Rick Baker’s Oscar-winning makeup effects still hold up today.

The tone is wonderfully offbeat—funny one moment, horrifying the next—with ghostly hallucinations, brutal werewolf attacks, and that surreal dream sequence with MAC-10 wielding Nazi werewolves (you read that right). The ending? Brutal and abrupt in the best possible way.

An American Werewolf in London is a cult classic for a reason: it’s smart, stylish, scary, and doesn’t shy away from the gore or the absurd. If you like your horror with a sly grin and a lot of blood, this one’s essential.
Show 108
Rabid
Rabid is a grimy, unsettling slice of early body horror from David Cronenberg, where science, sex, and infection all get tangled into one gloriously disturbing package. The story centers on Rose, a woman who survives a motorcycle crash and receives an experimental skin graft surgery—only to develop a flesh-colored, retractable stinger in her armpit that she uses to feed on blood.

But her bite doesn’t just drain people—it infects them with a zombie-like virus, turning them into deranged, violent maniacs who attack others and rapidly spread the disease. The infection spreads like wildfire through Montreal, leading to martial law, mass panic, and some truly freaky scenes of blood-soaked chaos.

And yes—the infamous “Santa Claus getting shot” scene is unforgettable. In it, a mall Santa is gunned down in front of screaming children because he was in the crossfire of an infected and the authorities are shooting on sight. It’s jarring, absurd, and darkly ironic in the way only Cronenberg can pull off.

Rabid isn’t your typical zombie movie, but it hits all the same buttons: infection, transformation, breakdown of society, and a chilling sense of inevitability. It’s raw, cold, and clinical—but also uniquely tragic. Classic Canadian horror, and peak Cronenberg.
Show 109
The Food of the Gods
The Food of the Gods is a wild slice of 1970s eco-horror, loosely (and I mean loosely) based on the H.G. Wells novel of the same name. Directed by Bert I. Gordon—the king of “giant things attacking people” movies—it’s a goofy, gooey, and weirdly earnest creature feature that’s all about nature getting really, really pissed off.

The plot? A strange, goo-like substance starts bubbling out of the ground on a remote Canadian island. Locals start feeding it to their livestock, and suddenly—rats, chickens, worms, and wasps grow to monstrous size and go on a rampage. A group of unfortunate visitors, including a football player and a pregnant woman, get trapped and have to fight off the oversized menace.

The effects are a charming mix of actual animals on miniature sets, rubber puppets, and plenty of ketchup-like gore. It’s schlocky as hell, and the pacing drags in spots, but there’s something endearingly bonkers about watching giant chickens pecking people to death or rats trying to chew through a cabin wall like a zombie siege.

It’s not great in a traditional sense—but it’s a blast if you love 70s creature features, angry nature revenge movies, and practical effects that go way too hard for what they’re working with. Pure movie madness.
Show 110
Demons (aka Demoni)
Demons is a high-octane, gore-soaked Italian horror classic directed by Lamberto Bava and produced by the legendary Dario Argento—and it’s exactly as wild as that combo suggests.

The setup is simple: a group of strangers attend a mysterious movie screening in a creepy Berlin theater. The film they’re watching? A horror flick about demons. But before long, the horror bleeds into reality—literally—and one by one, the audience begins to transform into flesh-ripping, bile-spewing demons, turning the theater into a sealed-off bloodbath.

It’s got everything: practical effects galore, metal music blaring, people turning into monsters mid-scream, and a dirt bike + katana rampage through the aisles. The plot is thin, the logic is nonsense—and it totally doesn’t matter.

Demons is pure Italian horror chaos: loud, fast, gory, and stylish. If you want a movie that feels like a nightmare set to heavy metal and neon lights, this is it.
Show 111
Demons 2 (aka Demoni II)
Demons 2 is the wild, neon-lit sequel to Lamberto Bava’s Demons—and while it doesn’t hit quite as hard as the original, it’s still a gory, chaotic blast of Italian horror mayhem.

This time, instead of a movie theater, the demon outbreak happens inside a high-rise apartment building, where a group of tenants are watching a horror broadcast about—you guessed it—demons. One literally bursts through the TV (a la Freddy Krueger meets MTV), infecting a birthday girl and kicking off another round of blood-splattered carnage.

Much like the first film, it’s short on logic but packed with gore, synth, and pure Italian horror energy. Demons climb the walls, tear through concrete, and even pop out of children—because of course they do. There’s even a tiny demon puppet monster for good measure.

Demons 2 is louder, slicker, and more claustrophobic than the first, with a slightly more polished look and a full-on 1980s vibe. It may not be as iconic, but it still rips hard in all the right places. Just don’t expect a plot—expect blood, noise, and madness.
Show 112
Island of the Fishmen (aka Something Waits in the Dark, Screamers, and Island of Mutations)
Island of the Fishmen—also known as Screamers in its U.S. cut—is an Italian pulp-horror adventure directed by Sergio Martino that oozes with Lovecraftian vibes, whether it meant to or not.

The story follows a group of shipwrecked survivors who end up on a mysterious, fog-shrouded island ruled by a mad scientist and a power-hungry colonialist. The island just happens to be crawling with amphibious fish-people, who serve their human masters by diving into underwater ruins and retrieving ancient gold. There's also a voodoo priestess, tribal henchmen, and a heavy dose of gothic jungle weirdness.

While it's never explicitly stated, the entire setup feels extremely Lovecraftian—especially if you’re familiar with The Shadow Over Innsmouth. These creatures are practically Deep Ones, and the timeline even matches up: the film takes place in the late 19th century, right around the time Lovecraft's infamous Marsh family was supposedly interbreeding with Deep Ones in Innsmouth. Is it a direct reference? Probably not—but the parallels are hard to miss.

You've got:

A remote island with sunken ruins

A madman using fish-men as treasure hunters

Human-fish hybrids rising from the depths

A growing sense of ancient, aquatic dread

Island of the Fishmen is a bizarre but fun mix of adventure serial, creature feature, and accidental cosmic horror, wrapped in rubber suits and fog machines. It’s pulpy, trashy, and full of atmosphere—and if you're a Lovecraft fan, it’s impossible not to squint and say:

"Wait a minute
 Deep Ones, anyone?"
Show 113
The Atlantis Interceptors (aka Raiders of Atlantis)
The Atlantis Interceptors is one of those glorious Italian post-apocalyptic fever dreams where logic goes out the window about five minutes in, and you’re just along for the ride.

I’m honestly not sure what the hell the plot is, but it starts off with some underwater expedition that accidentally causes Atlantis to rise from the sea, and from there, it goes completely off the rails. Suddenly there are Mad Max-looking raiders in football pads and helmets, gunning people down while screaming about the apocalypse. Then there’s a team of mercenaries and random civilians who band together and start fighting back on motorcycles with machine guns and rocket launchers.

There’s jungle warfare, ancient technology, exploding boats, synth music, and a villain who looks like he walked off a heavy metal album cover. Oh—and it was directed by Ruggero Deodato, the guy who made Cannibal Holocaust, so you know it’s going to be unhinged.

The Atlantis Interceptors makes no sense, doesn’t care that it makes no sense, and is all the better for it. If you want cheap explosions, weird dubbing, Mad Max meets Atlantis energy, and nonstop mayhem, this is pure ‘80s Eurotrash gold.
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Spookies
Spookies is one of the weirdest, most disjointed horror films to ever grace a VHS shelf—and that’s exactly why it rules. The plot (what little there is) involves a group of people who randomly end up at a creepy old mansion, where they’re picked off one by one by a nonstop parade of monsters, ghouls, demons, farting muck-men, and whatever else the effects crew had lying around.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense—and that’s because it literally isn’t one movie. It was famously cobbled together from two unrelated film shoots, with new footage added to try and glue it all together. The result? A glorious patchwork of creature-feature chaos with barely any narrative glue holding it in place.

But who cares? Spookies is basically an excuse to showcase a ton of amazing practical effects and monster designs, and it absolutely delivers on that front. Nearly every scene introduces a new creature and a kill, from spider-ladies to zombies to things that defy description.

It’s messy, it’s nonsensical, but it’s packed with low-budget charm and practical monster madness. If you're a fan of bizarre ‘80s horror where every five minutes something insane happens, Spookies is essential late-night viewing.
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The Cabin in the Woods
The Cabin in the Woods starts like your typical horror setup: five college friends head to a remote cabin for a weekend of partying, only to be stalked by some creepy backwoods zombies. But just when you think you’ve seen this movie a hundred times, it pulls the rug out from under you—hard.

Behind the scenes, a mysterious high-tech facility is orchestrating everything, manipulating the teens’ choices to fulfill a twisted ritual involving ancient gods, archetypal horror tropes, and a whole catalog of nightmare fuel. What starts as a slasher quickly becomes a meta-horror rollercoaster that deconstructs the entire genre while still being a solid horror movie on its own.

It’s clever, gory, hilarious, and weirdly thought-provoking. By the time all hell literally breaks loose and every monster you’ve ever feared storms the screen, you realize this isn’t just a horror movie—it’s a love letter to horror itself
 with a big middle finger to the clichĂ©s.

The Cabin in the Woods is smart, self-aware, and wildly entertaining. If you love horror, it’s a must-watch. If you think you’ve seen it all? This one still has surprises.
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Wishmaster
Wishmaster is a bloody, over-the-top gem from the golden age of ‘90s horror, produced by none other than Wes Craven and packed with a who’s-who of horror legends—Robert Englund, Tony Todd, Kane Hodder—you name it.

The star of the show, though, is the Djinn, an ancient evil genie who doesn’t grant wishes so much as twist them into grotesque monkey’s paw nightmares. When he's unleashed from a jewel prison, he starts collecting souls by granting people their heart's desire
 in the most literal and horrific ways possible. Ask for eternal beauty? Get turned into a mannequin. Want to escape something? Now you're part of it. Be careful what you wish for has never been this gory.

Andrew Divoff absolutely steals the show as the Djinn with every menacing whisper and evil smirk. He’s one of the more unique villains of the era—charismatic, articulate, and utterly sadistic.

Wishmaster is pure ‘90s horror excess: cheesy one-liners, inventive kills, practical effects galore, and just enough lore to make it feel like a dark fantasy movie dipped in blood. It’s campy, it’s creative, and it knows exactly what kind of movie it is. If you love your horror with flair and flair with fangs, Wishmaster delivers.
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Wishmaster 2: Evil Never Dies
Wishmaster 2 picks up where the first left off—sort of—but turns the insanity way up while also leaning much harder into low-budget, comedic-horror chaos. Once again, the delightfully sinister Andrew Divoff returns as the Djinn, and he’s just as smirky, sadistic, and theatrical as ever.

This time, the Djinn ends up in prison (yes, really), where he grants twisted wishes to inmates and guards alike—turning their desires into gruesome, ironic deaths. And let’s be real: that’s the fun of the Wishmaster series—watching people make dumb wishes and getting obliterated for it in the most cartoonishly evil ways possible. (Like an inmate saying he wished his lawyer would go fuck himself; only for the lawyer to arrive with news that he can get him out of prison... then mid telling him this the lawyers body starts to contort unnaturally and he literally fucks himself.)

The budget may be lower, and the story thinner, but Divoff carries the whole film on his back with his oily charm and that gravelly voice. The kills are inventive, the pacing is fast, and even though it’s not as polished as the first, it delivers exactly what a sequel like this should: more mayhem, more gore, and more deliciously bad decisions.

Wishmaster 2 is messy, campy, and dumb in the best possible way. If you’re here for Shakespearean drama, move along. If you’re here for “be careful what you wish for” mayhem with prison shivs and melting faces, welcome back.
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Ghostbusters
Ghostbusters is a supernatural comedy about three eccentric scientists—Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, and Egon Spengler—who lose their university jobs and start a ghost-catching business in New York City. Armed with proton packs and snark, they battle spooky specters, slime, and eventually a demonic ancient god named Gozer who threatens to destroy the world. With help from their new recruit Winston Zeddemore, they save the city in gloriously goofy fashion—marshmallow explosion included.
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Ghostbusters II
Ghostbusters II finds the gang down on their luck after being sued and disbanded, but supernatural trouble never stays quiet for long. A river of pink slime oozing beneath New York feeds off the city's negative vibes, and an evil 16th-century sorcerer named Vigo the Carpathian plans a comeback using a baby as his new vessel. The Ghostbusters reunite, gear up, and even animate the Statue of Liberty with positively charged slime and music to save the day once again—because bustin’ still makes them feel good.
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That 70s Show
That '70s Show is a nostalgic sitcom set in 1970s Wisconsin, centered around a group of teenage friends—Eric, Donna, Hyde, Kelso, Jackie, and Fez—as they navigate growing up, falling in love, and getting into trouble, often while hanging out in Eric’s basement. With lava lamps, bell bottoms, and a lot of haze in the air, the show blends classic rock, coming-of-age awkwardness, and sharp humor. Eric’s grumpy dad Red threatens to put his foot in everyone’s ass, and the vibes are groovy even when things get weird.
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Terrifier (1-3)
Terrifier is a trilogy of ultra-gory slasher films centered around Art the Clown—a silent, sadistic, and darkly theatrical killer whose blood-soaked rampages are as mesmerizing as they are brutal.

In Terrifier, Art stalks and slaughters two unsuspecting women on Halloween night, establishing his gleeful brutality and iconic mime-like presence. It's a lean, mean, splatter-filled thrill ride with an old-school grindhouse vibe.

Terrifier 2 cranks up the scale and weirdness, diving deeper into supernatural territory. Art returns from the dead with a creepy little sidekick and sets his sights on a teenage girl named Sienna, who has a mysterious connection to him. The kills are even more outrageous, but so are the stakes, visuals, and character arcs.

Terrifier 3 continues the story with a Christmas setting, expanding the lore while keeping the core ingredients: inventive gore, twisted humor, and Art’s eerily magnetic presence.

While some viewers dismiss the trilogy as “so bad it’s good,” I don’t get that vibe at all. I rarely like slasher films, but Terrifier has enough entertainment, character, originality, and charm that it doesn’t feel like one. Everything from the grainy aesthetic to the timing of kills, to Art’s cartoonish humorous yet terrifying antics, feels deliberately crafted. Art may be a deranged murder machine, but he’s also a showman, throwing in vaudeville flair between dismemberments. The supporting characters aren’t just body count fodder either—they feel like they belong in Art’s twisted little world, making the whole thing strangely cohesive and endlessly entertaining.
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The Wild Bunch
The Wild Bunch is a gritty, unflinching Western that shattered genre conventions with its unapologetic portrayal of aging outlaws clinging to their fading way of life. Directed by Sam Peckinpah, the film follows a gang of weary criminals led by Pike Bishop, navigating betrayal, survival, and one last violent stand as the American West transforms around them.

At times brutal and callous, the film captures the hardened indifference of violence—not glorifying it, but showing how transactional and cold it can be among criminals chasing their own goals. It was shocking for its time, and even today, moments like two gunmen casually comparing bullet holes in corpses to decide who made the kill still feel disturbingly raw and real.

Its slow-motion gunfights, bleak tone, and moral ambiguity were groundbreaking, and they continue to influence modern cinema. The Wild Bunch doesn’t just depict the end of the West—it bleeds it out in slow, dusty, tragic detail.
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The Getaway (1972)
Based on a 1958 novel by the same name, The Getaway is a tense, gritty crime thriller directed by Sam Peckinpah and starring Steve McQueen and Ali MacGraw. It follows career criminal Doc McCoy, who’s released from prison on the condition that he pulls off a bank heist for a corrupt politician. Things spiral out fast: double-crosses, dirty money, and a trail of chaos stretch across Texas as Doc and his wife Carol go on the run, desperate to escape to Mexico.

The film blends cool-headed suspense with bursts of raw, chaotic violence, anchored by McQueen’s stoic charisma and a palpable sense of mistrust between every character. Like much of Peckinpah’s work, it paints the criminal world as one where alliances are paper-thin and every deal comes with a knife in the back.

What makes The Getaway stand out isn’t just the shootouts or car chases—it’s the constant tension, the moral grayness, and the way it captures a world where survival often means getting your hands very, very dirty. It’s a heist movie with grit under the nails and sweat in every frame.
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Bullitt (1968)
Bullitt is a sleek, hardboiled crime thriller starring Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt, a no-nonsense San Francisco cop with a quiet edge and a killer sense of cool. When a witness under his protection is gunned down, Bullitt digs into a tangled web of political corruption, cover-ups, and double-crosses—all while keeping his trademark calm and icy resolve.

The film is most famous for its legendary car chase through the hilly streets of San Francisco—raw, unscripted, and still one of the most thrilling ever filmed—but it’s not just about horsepower. Bullitt is a mood: quiet tension, smart pacing, and a detective who doesn’t talk much but gets the job done.

Its stripped-down realism and grounded grit made it a game-changer for police procedurals, and McQueen’s performance turned Frank Bullitt into a cultural icon. The film isn’t flashy—it’s cool, methodical, and unshakably confident, just like the man behind the wheel.
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Deathwish (1-3)
Death Wish kicks off with Charles Bronson as Paul Kersey, a mild-mannered New York architect whose life is upended when his wife is murdered and his daughter violently sexually assaulted during a home invasion. With the justice system proving useless, Kersey gradually transforms into a stone-faced vigilante, prowling the streets at night to gun down muggers and thugs. Gritty, grounded, and morally murky, the film taps into 1970s urban rising crime rates and tensions and turns quiet revenge into a national conversation.

Death Wish II relocates Kersey to Los Angeles, but fate deals him another cruel hand when tragedy strikes again. This time, he doesn’t hesitate—he arms himself and brings down hell on a new wave of lowlifes. It's darker, more exploitative, and brutally personal, with Bronson even colder and more ruthless.

Death Wish 3 throws realism out the window and goes full action-movie mayhem. Kersey returns to New York to help an old friend but ends up leading a one-man war against a gang terrorizing a rundown neighborhood. It's loud, campy, and absurd in all the best ways—think Hollywood street thugs on motorcycles vs belt-fed machineguns and rocket launchers and a high body count.

After that? You can skip the rest. Parts 4 and 5 descend into bargain-bin territory, with recycled plots, cheap production, and none of the bite or charisma that made the first three films memorable. Not to mention its depressing watching an aged Charles Bronson barely hobble along in an action movie that struggles to realize he wasn't really fit for the role anymore... literally and figuratively. Death Wish 1–3 form the core of the series: revenge, escalation, and finally unhinged urban warfare. Beyond that, it’s just shooting blanks.
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The Brave One (2007)
The Brave One is basically a female Death Wish with Jodie Foster taking on the role of a modern-day vigilante. She plays Erica Bain, a New York City radio host whose life is shattered after a brutal attack leaves her fiancé dead and her severely injured. Traumatized and disillusioned with the justice system, Erica illegally arms herself and begins taking down criminals, slipping further into a cycle of violence and moral ambiguity.

What sets The Brave One apart is its more introspective and emotional approach—Foster’s performance brings vulnerability and nuance to a character struggling with fear, rage, and guilt. It’s less grindhouse, more psychological, but still packs a punch when the trigger’s pulled. There’s tension not just in the action, but in the ethics: is she reclaiming power, or losing her soul?

The film wrestles with the same themes as Death Wish—justice, revenge, and personal loss—but through a more somber, meditative lens. It's a slower burn, not the same vibes, but not a bad film.
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The Exterminator (1-2)
The Exterminator and its sequel are like Death Wish’s grindhouse cousin—cheaper, nastier, and way more over-the-top, but still oddly watchable. The first film follows John Eastland, a Vietnam vet turned flamethrower-wielding vigilante after his best friend is brutally attacked by street punks. What follows is a parade of sleazy criminals, corrupt officials, and lots of fire, bullets, and explosions as Eastland delivers scorched-earth justice.

Exterminator 2 (1984) cranks up the absurdity, with Eastland now donning a welder’s mask and using a literal flamethrower to clean up New York’s crime-infested streets. It's more brainless action than character-driven story, with less emotional weight and far more neon-lit nonsense, but there's a certain trashy charm to the whole thing.

While it’s clearly a cheaper imitation of Death Wish with way less depth or moral complexity, it’s not bad if you’re in the mood for loud, dumb vigilante chaos. It lacks the feel and atmosphere of Bronson’s classics, but if you want something that blows up first and asks questions never, The Exterminator gets the job done—messily.
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Seinfeld
Seinfeld—yes yes, we all know it—but let’s be real: it’s a timeless comedy classic and straight-up TV gold.

Centered around comedian Jerry Seinfeld and his quirky crew—neurotic George, eccentric Kramer, and sharp-tongued Elaine—the show follows their absurd day-to-day misadventures in New York City. There’s no big plot, no moral of the story—just razor-sharp dialogue, unforgettable moments ("No soup for you!", "Master of your domain" and let's not forget "these pretzels are making me thirsty,") and a relentless focus on the petty, awkward, and hilarious details of modern life.

It wasn’t about nothing—it was about everything that makes us weird humans. Still endlessly quotable, still funnier than most modern sitcoms, Seinfeld is the blueprint for smart, character-driven comedy that doesn't need sappy resolutions to land hard.
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Pee-Wee's Playhouse
Pee-wee’s Playhouse—yeah, yeah I don’t care if it’s a kids show. Kiss my mekka-lekka-hiney. Tons of people have nostalgic sometimes weirdly emotional memories of watching this glorious chaos as a kid, and honestly? Rightfully so.

Hosted by the endlessly bizarre and lovable Pee-wee Herman (Paul Reubens), the show was a wild, colorful fever dream packed with talking furniture, stop-motion food, puppets, cowboys, and screaming the secret word of the day like our little sugar-fueled lives depended on it. It was part puppet show, part cartoon, part feverish performance art... wrapped in bubble wrap and neon.

Behind the silliness was genuinely brilliant design, creativity, and subversive humor—stuff that flew over kids’ heads but adults could grin at too. It was strange, it was loud, it was perfect. And if you grew up with it? It never quite left your brain.
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Evil Ed (1995)
Evil Ed is a splatter-filled Swedish horror-comedy that plays like a love letter to early Peter Jackson—all over-the-top gore, manic energy, and rubber-faced absurdity—even though Jackson had nothing to do with it.

The film follows a mild-mannered film editor named Ed, who’s reassigned to cut a series of ultra-violent horror flicks called The Loose Limbs series. After hours of blood-soaked footage, Ed starts to lose his grip on reality, descending into full-blown madness and going on a murderous rampage.

It’s a parody of the old moral panic that violent movies turn people into psychos, and it runs with that idea to gloriously deranged extremes. Think chainsaws, exploding heads, and tongue-in-cheek jabs at censorship and media hysteria, all served with that gooey, cartoonishly gory flair that screams Dead Alive and Bad Taste.

It’s scrappy, weird, and proudly messy—Evil Ed is cult cinema through and through.
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Matango (aka Attack of the Mushroom People)
Matango is one of those movies you expect to be goofy B-movie nonsense
 and then it totally surprises you.

Directed by Ishirƍ Honda (of Godzilla fame), it follows a group of shipwrecked survivors stranded on a mysterious island where weird fungus grows everywhere. As supplies dwindle and tensions rise, some start eating the mushrooms—and that’s when things get genuinely freaky. Hallucinations, madness, and body horror creep in, and the whole thing turns into a slow, unnerving descent into psychological and physical transformation.

It’s got a cool, eerie plot, fantastic atmosphere, and moments of quiet dread that really stick with you. Despite the silly-sounding premise, Matango is legitimately unsettling and way better than its cheesy alternate title suggests. Think Gilligan’s Island meets Cronenberg, and you’re not far off.
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Threads (1984)
Threads is a brutal, horrifying, and unflinchingly cold-reality look into what a nuclear war would truly mean for everyday people—specifically set in Sheffield, England. Unlike most apocalyptic films, Threads strips away any cinematic gloss and presents the aftermath with a documentary-style bluntness that’s downright soul-crushing.

It doesn’t just show the initial blast—it follows the slow, agonizing decay of society, infrastructure, and human dignity in the weeks, months, and even years after the bombs fall. The film explores real-world consequences in excruciating detail: fallout poisoning, food shortages, societal breakdown, psychological collapse, and the horrific toll on civilians.

Among the most haunting scenes:

A man is executed because he mentally breaks down and can’t continue burying hundreds of corpses as ordered by the government.

Desperate civilians are shot dead for taking canned goods from bombed-out grocery stores—because the state declares all food as government property.

A woman, having survived in the ruins, gives birth alone, biting the umbilical cord off with her bare teeth in horrifying detail; no medical care, no help, just raw human desperation.

Years later, under nuclear winter, the survivors live in a near dark-ages-like society, manually scraping barely sprouting wheat from the dead soil for a shred of sustenance.

Threads is not entertainment. It’s a warning, and it lands like a hammer. It’s arguably the most realistic depiction of nuclear war ever put to screen, and decades later, it’s still deeply disturbing—because it doesn’t just show the end. It shows what’s left after the end.
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The Day of the Triffids (1963)
The Day of the Triffids is a classic British sci-fi horror film based on the novel by John Wyndham, and while it shows its age, it still holds up as a creepy and imaginative end-of-the-world tale.

The story kicks off with a freak meteor shower that blinds most of the world’s population overnight. Amid the chaos, a man who missed the event due to eye surgery wakes up to find civilization collapsing—and worse, giant venomous plants called Triffids have begun to attack. Originally farmed for oil, the Triffids are mobile, deadly, and very opportunistic now that humanity can’t see them coming.

It’s a weird, eerie premise, combining the fear of isolation, blindness, and unstoppable nature run amok. While the effects are very much 1963-tier, the atmosphere is solid, and there are some genuinely unsettling moments—especially with the blind masses stumbling helplessly into danger.

It may not be action-packed, but Day of the Triffids is a slow-burn sci-fi disaster flick with a unique apocalyptic vibe that’s still effective. Think of it as a mix of Invasion of the Body Snatchers and Bird Box—with killer plants.
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The Earth Dies Screaming
The Earth Dies Screaming may sound like a campy B-movie from the title, but it actually delivers a surprisingly cool and eerie sci-fi plot—a moody, minimalist apocalypse story with a twist.

After an unexplained catastrophe wipes out much of the population, a small group of survivors gathers in a sleepy English village trying to piece together what happened. Soon, they discover the cause: an alien invasion that includes emotionless robot (or cyborg-like) enforcers stalking the streets... and worse, the dead are rising again—not as mindless zombies, but as alien-controlled puppets.

It’s got an eerie stillness, a creeping dread, and a stark black-and-white aesthetic that gives it a Twilight Zone vibe. The film is short and low-budget, but it uses its limitations well, building suspense and dread instead of flashy effects. The mix of alien tech, undead mind control, and survival paranoia makes it feel like a prototype for later invasion horror films.

In short: The Earth Dies Screaming is tight, spooky, and smartly simple—a hidden gem of mid-century sci-fi that’s worth checking out if you like quiet, creeping doom with a sci-fi twist.
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Boardwalk Empire
Boardwalk Empire is a lavish, gritty period drama set during prohibition-era Atlantic City, following the (fictionalized) rise and moral decay of Enoch "Nucky" Thompson, a corrupt politician who straddles the line between political boss and ruthless gangster.

Created by Terence Winter and produced by Martin Scorsese (who directed the first episode), the series dives deep into organized crime, political power, and personal betrayal, blending historical figures like Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and Arnold Rothstein into its bloody, booze-soaked tapestry.

With stunning set design, sharp writing, and unforgettable performances (especially from Steve Buscemi as Nucky), Boardwalk Empire delivers Shakespearean drama wrapped in vintage pinstripes and Tommy gun fire. It’s violent, emotional, beautifully tragic—and one of the best crime shows ever put to screen. If you like your gangsters with a side of melancholy and moral complexity, this one’s a masterpiece.
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Near Dark
Near Dark is a stylish, genre-blending cult classic that fuses vampire horror with western grit. Directed by Kathryn Bigelow, the film follows a young man named Caleb who gets pulled into a nomadic group of vampires after a chance encounter with a mysterious girl named Mae.

As Caleb struggles with his transformation, he’s torn between his humanity and the violent, blood-soaked lifestyle of his new “family.” Featuring moody cinematography, a haunting synth score by Tangerine Dream, and standout performances (especially from Bill Paxton as a gleefully unhinged vampire), Near Dark delivers a grimy, atmospheric, and refreshingly unconventional take on vampire lore.

It’s blood, dust, neon, and tragedy—a vampire movie that rides into town wearing spurs and fangs. Honestly its one of if not the best vampire movie I've ever seen.
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The Pit
The Pit is not a good movie—let’s get that out of the way. But it is one of those “what the hell am I watching?” cult gems that’s so bizarre, so poorly stitched together, and so unintentionally hilarious, that it becomes weirdly watchable.

The plot centers on Jamie, a deeply awkward and possibly autistic 12-year-old loner who discovers a pit in the woods full of carnivorous troll-like creatures he calls “Tra-la-logs” (a mispronunciation of troglodytes). Egged on by his creepy, worn-out teddy bear (yes, he talks to it and hears voices), Jamie starts luring people who upset him to the pit
 where the monsters happily snack on them.

It’s all presented in a surreal, disjointed way—like the infamous scene where the teddy bear suddenly moves on its own, and then that concept is never brought up again. No explanation. No logic. Just... moving bear. And that's the tone of the whole movie.

What makes The Pit oddly special is how much it resembles the nonsense fever-dream logic of an Italian horror film, despite being Canadian. It has that same off-kilter editing, awkward dubbing energy, wild tonal shifts, and a complete disregard for narrative cohesion. It feels like a Lucio Fulci movie got rewritten by a disturbed 10-year-old and shot in a sleepy suburb with a troll costume budget of $40.

In short: The Pit is a so-bad-it’s-entertaining oddity, not unlike watching a horror movie on mushrooms by accident. It’s dumb, it’s creepy, it’s messy—but somehow, you can’t look away.
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John Carpenter’s Vampires (aka Vampires)
John Carpenter’s Vampires is a gritty, blood-soaked horror-western that ditches the castles and capes in favor of desert towns, leather jackets, and shotgun blasts to the face. James Woods stars as Jack Crow, a foul-mouthed, no-nonsense vampire hunter funded by the Vatican, leading a team that wipes out bloodsuckers with military precision—until a powerful master vampire named Valek tears through his crew and kicks off a revenge-fueled showdown.

The film blends classic vampire mythology with Carpenter’s signature stripped-down action and dusty, sun-bleached style. It’s brutal, cynical, loud, and dirty—basically vampires by way of a biker bar shootout. The dialogue is sharp, the gore is heavy, and the tone is pure grimy late-‘90s grindhouse.

And if I’m not mistaken
 this might’ve been the first DVD I ever bought—and honestly? Not a bad choice. It’s not Carpenter’s best, but it oozes that badass B-movie energy that’s hard not to enjoy.
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The Crazies (1973)
The Crazies is a grim, slow-burn sci-fi/catatrophe horror film from George A. Romero that explores what happens when a deadly bioweapon leaks into a small Pennsylvania town, turning ordinary people violently insane. As the infection spreads, the government swoops in with hazmat suits, rifles, and zero patience—throwing the town into chaos with martial law, mass panic, and moral breakdown.

It’s not a bad movie—in fact, it’s got a pretty neat plot that mixes viral outbreak paranoia with commentary on government incompetence and overreach. There’s a sense of realism that makes the story hit harder, especially as you watch average people crumble under pressure, unsure who to trust.

That said, if you’re not in the right mood, it can drag a bit. It’s more procedural and chaotic than action-packed, and it leans into that 1970s bleakness with gusto. And the ending?

Let’s just say the ending pissed me off—in a way that’s thematically appropriate, sure, but still feels like a punch in the gut. Not soul-crushing like Threads, but definitely in the “oh come on!” tier.

Worth watching—just maybe don’t go in expecting closure or a high-five.

Also for a Romero film its actually light on gore by HIS standards; but it was one of his earlier films. Interestingly, the movie also has Richard France (eye-patch scientist guy) in a similar role as what he had in the later Romero film Dawn of the Dead (the original one.) I guess Romero just really liked him in the scientist role since the characters are virtually identical.
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Silver Bullet

Silver Bullet is a small-town werewolf movie based on Stephen King’s novella Cycle of the Werewolf—and it’s got all the hallmarks of ‘80s horror: foggy woods, suspicious townsfolk, a killer on the loose, and yes, Gary Busey before the accident, back when he still had that charming chaotic-uncle energy without tipping into full cosmic madness.

The story follows a young paraplegic boy named Marty (Corey Haim) who suspects a werewolf is behind a string of grisly murders. With the help of his skeptical but lovable Uncle Red (Busey), he sets out to uncover the truth and stop the beast.

The movie is predictable, sometimes hokey, and weirdly feels like it was geared toward kids—despite the gore and darker subject matter. It plays like a made-for-TV special where someone accidentally left in the werewolf maulings.

And yeah... Stephen King. Look, the guy’s well-known, but let’s be real—he has the literary stamina of a greyhound (even if he does steal plots and ideas a lot,) and the ending skills of a shopping cart with four janky wheels. Silver Bullet is no exception: serviceable plot, fun setup, and then—well, that’s it, I guess.

Still, for fans of cozy mid-tier horror with some unintentionally funny werewolf effects and early Busey charm, it has that small-town October night comfort vibe, even if it's not howlin’ at the top of the horror food chain.

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Phantasm

Phantasm is a surreal horror film that blends eerie dream logic with sci-fi and gothic elements. It follows a teenager named Mike who begins investigating strange occurrences at the local mausoleum after witnessing a mysterious tall man effortlessly lifting a coffin by himself.

With the help of his older brother and a friend, Mike uncovers a bizarre reality involving reanimated corpses, deadly flying silver spheres, and the otherworldly “Tall Man,” an enigmatic undertaker harvesting the dead for sinister interdimensional purposes. The film is known for its nightmarish atmosphere, low-budget inventiveness, and ambiguous storytelling that blurs the line between reality and dream.

Its sequels (as to be expected,) get worse the longer they go on but the film remains a hauntingly weird cornerstone of late '70s horror.

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Enemy Mine
Enemy Mine is a scifi drama that explores themes of war, prejudice, and unlikely friendship. Set in the future during an interstellar war between humans and an alien race called the Dracs, the story follows Willis Davidge, a human pilot, and Jeriba “Jerry” Shigan, a reptilian Drac, who crash-land on a hostile planet.

Forced to rely on each other to survive, the two enemies slowly overcome their hatred and form a deep bond. As time passes, Davidge even helps raise Jerry’s child after tragedy strikes. The film shifts from a tale of survival to one of redemption and understanding, showing how shared hardship can transcend deep-rooted conflict. While not a blockbuster, Enemy Mine gained cult status for its heartfelt story and powerful message.

Enemy Mine is a hidden gem in the scifi movie scene with a powerful anti-war messge.
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Soylent Green
Soylent Green is a grim and powerful dystopian thriller set in an overpopulated, overheated future where food and resources are scarce, and the majority of people live in filth and poverty. Charlton Heston stars as Detective Thorn, investigating the murder of a wealthy executive tied to the Soylent Corporation — a company that produces the mysterious green wafers that the starving population depends on. As he digs deeper, he uncovers a horrifying secret behind the company’s most popular product.

While most people know Soylent Green for its infamous twist ending — and the line “Soylent Green is people!” — surprisingly few have actually seen the film. That’s a shame, because it’s a truly bleak and brilliant piece of speculative fiction. The movie doesn’t just rely on shock; it builds a deeply oppressive world full of eerily accurate predictions: ecological collapse, corporate dominance, extreme wealth disparity, housing crises, and a society numbed into submission.

Its most horrific prediction — that human lives would one day be reduced to literal commodities — hasn’t (thankfully) come true, but many of its other themes feel more relevant than ever. Soylent Green is more than a meme or a catchphrase; it’s a haunting look at where we could end up if we’re not careful — and a must-watch for any fan of dystopian cinema.
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The Fly (1958) (original film trilogy)
The Fly kicks off the trilogy with a classic tale of science gone wrong. Scientist AndrĂ© Delambre invents a matter transporter, but during an experiment, a housefly accidentally enters the chamber with him. When he emerges, his head and arm have been swapped with that of the fly. As his mind and humanity begin to unravel, his wife tries desperately to find the original insect in hopes of reversing the process. The film is tragic and eerie, focusing more on suspense and emotion than gore, and ends with one of the most iconic horror lines ever: “Help meee!”

Return of the Fly (1959) picks up with André’s son, Philippe, now grown and determined to redeem his father’s legacy by perfecting the transporter. Unfortunately, history repeats itself when a human-fly hybrid is once again created. This time, the mutation is even more grotesque, and the story leans more into traditional monster movie territory. With a slightly lower budget and a more pulp-horror tone, it doesn’t hit the same emotional highs but still delivers entertaining sci-fi thrills.

Curse of the Fly (1965) takes a strange turn. Rather than focusing on a new fly mutation, it follows André’s descendants who are secretly continuing teleportation experiments—with disturbing results. Mutated failures and hidden victims haunt the Delambre estate. There’s no actual fly-human hybrid in this one, and the shift to a more gothic, psychological horror vibe makes it the oddball of the trilogy. While it lacks the shock of the first two, it’s an atmospheric and unsettling conclusion to the original Fly saga.
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Logan's Run
Logan’s Run is a visually striking, high-concept sci-fi film set in a hedonistic future society where no one is allowed to live past the age of 30. In this domed city, people live carefree lives of pleasure and excess—until their 30th birthday, when they’re “renewed” in a public ritual called Carrousel. But renewal is a lie, and those who try to escape their fate are hunted down by enforcers called Sandmen.

Logan 5 is one such Sandman, until he’s ordered to go undercover and locate a group of “runners” escaping to a rumored place called Sanctuary. Alongside a woman named Jessica, Logan begins to question everything he’s been taught as they flee the city and discover the decaying remnants of the outside world. What follows is part chase movie, part awakening, as Logan confronts the truth and ultimately rebels against the system.

Logan’s Run is a smart and stylish look at the dark side of utopia. Its themes of ageism, population control, and blind trust in technology feel especially relevant today. With its mix of retro-futuristic design, eerie optimism, and eerie consequences, it’s not just a cult classic—it’s one of the more thought-provoking sci-fi films of the '70s.
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Oblivion (1994) + Oblivion 2: Backlash (1996)
Oblivion is a wild genre mashup that throws spaghetti westerns, science fiction, and campy B-movie energy into a blender. Set on a distant alien planet that looks suspiciously like the Old West, it follows Zack Stone, the pacifist son of a slain marshal who’s reluctantly pulled back to his dusty hometown of Oblivion after his father is killed by a sadistic, lizard-skinned outlaw named Red Eye. With the help of a cyborg deputy, a telepathic alien, and a tough-as-nails saloon owner, Zack must overcome his peaceful ways and bring justice to a lawless frontier.

The movie’s full of cheesy practical effects, rubbery alien makeup, and tongue-in-cheek humor. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and that’s part of the charm. Featuring genre veterans like George Takei, Julie Newmar, and Isaac Hayes, Oblivion is pure cult cinema: goofy, weird, and strangely endearing.

Oblivion 2: Backlash (1996) picks up right where the first left off, with Zack still trying to bring peace and order to the town. This time, a new threat arrives in the form of Lash, a whip-wielding femme fatale with a grudge, and her gang of outlaws bent on revenge. The sequel keeps the same blend of sci-fi and western nonsense, with returning characters, more campy action, and just enough self-awareness to keep it fun.

Both are a blast if you’re in the mood for something totally off the rails. Think of them as space-western comfort food—cheap, silly, and totally unpretentious.
Show 147
Brazil
Brazil (1985) is Terry Gilliam’s brilliantly absurd and nightmarish take on Orwellian dystopia—a surreal, darkly comedic vision of a future drowning in bureaucracy, surveillance, and crumbling technology. Often described as "1984 with more paperwork and ductwork," it follows Sam Lowry, a meek and unambitious government employee who begins to question his tightly controlled world after a clerical error leads to the wrongful arrest (and death) of an innocent man.

Sam’s dull, gray life spirals into chaos as he gets entangled with terrorists, resistance movements, and a mysterious woman from his dreams—quite literally. Gilliam’s signature visuals are on full display: labyrinthine office corridors, towering monoliths of machinery, and retro-futuristic designs that feel both old and terrifyingly possible. The world of Brazil is not just oppressive, it’s absurd, with a government so incompetent and bloated that it becomes dangerous through sheer inefficiency.

What makes Brazil such a masterpiece is how it blends Orwellian themes with biting satire and dream logic. It's both hilarious and horrifying—depressingly accurate in its critique of unchecked bureaucracy and corporate control, while also being weirdly beautiful and heartbreaking. Despite studio interference and a messy release history, Brazil remains one of the greatest dystopian films ever made—Gilliam’s chaotic, brilliant howl against the soul-grinding machinery of modern life.
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Eerie, Indiana (1991) + Eerie, Indiana: The Other Dimension (1998)
Eerie, Indiana is a cult-favorite supernatural mystery series that feels like The X-Files for kids—with a heavy dose of quirky humor and small-town strangeness. It follows 13-year-old Marshall Teller, who moves to the seemingly ordinary town of Eerie, Indiana
 only to discover it's a hotspot for the bizarre and paranormal. From Tupperware that keeps people young to dogs that communicate telepathically, Eerie is bursting with offbeat conspiracies and creepy oddities. With his nerdy sidekick Simon, Marshall investigates the town’s weirdness in each episode, often clashing with clueless adults and shady figures behind the scenes.

Though it only lasted one season (a tragic injustice), Eerie, Indiana left a lasting impression thanks to its sharp writing, Twilight Zone-esque stories, and clever meta-commentary. It was genuinely spooky at times, but always playful and smart—far ahead of most other kids' shows of the time.

Eerie, Indiana: The Other Dimension came several years later and was meant to reboot the original concept for a new audience. This time, the story centers on Mitchell and Stanley, two kids living in a parallel version of Eerie where things are just as strange. Unfortunately, the follow-up lacked the charm and wit of the original, leaning more into Saturday-morning goofiness than eerie atmosphere. It had its moments but felt like a watered-down clone rather than a true continuation.

Still, the original Eerie, Indiana stands tall as a weird little gem—perfect for fans of strange fiction, conspiracy vibes, and small-town mysteries wrapped in a spooky-cool package.
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Leprechaun (1-4)
Starting in 1993, this cult classic series followed a murderous, rhyming leprechaun with a mean streak and a magic shillelagh—leaving a trail of gold-lusting corpses from the countryside to outer space. What began as a goofy slasher became an increasingly bizarre ride through B-movie madness. Here's a crash course in Leprechaun movies 1 through 4... buckle up, buttercup.

Leprechaun (1993) Meet Lubdan, the sassiest little horror villain this side of the rainbow. A greedy man steals his gold, so this pint-sized menace follows him to America, gets sealed in a crate, and wakes up years later ready to kill for his treasure. Jennifer Aniston (yes, that Jennifer Aniston) stars in this gory-goofy flick where the leprechaun offs people with pogo sticks, wheelchairs, and rhymes. Pure 90s chaos.

Leprechaun 2 (1994) Now he's in L.A., and it's his 1,000th birthday—time to claim a bride! He sets his sights on a descendant of his old enemy and uses love magic and death traps to win her over (romantic, right?) Expect lots of drunken sleaze, finger-ripping, and a guy getting killed with a steam-powered espresso machine. Because why not.

Leprechaun 3 (1995) The leprechaun hits Vegas, baby! A pawn shop deal gone wrong leads to another gold-stealing spree, complete with wish-granting hijinks. Of course, every wish backfires in the most hilariously deadly way. A magician gets sliced in half, a lady explodes from plastic surgery overload—this one's practically a live-action Looney Tunes with blood.

Leprechaun 4: In Space (1997) Yep. They put him in space. On a distant planet, the leprechaun woos an alien princess and plans to become king of the universe. But a group of space marines interrupts his plans, leading to laser battles, teleporting mishaps, and the leprechaun turning into a giant mutant after absorbing a dude’s DNA. Easily the dumbest—and maybe most entertaining—entry so far.