A movie marathon lives or dies on the quality of its list. Start strong, vary the pace, and make sure at least one film in the sequence is one nobody in the room has seen.
The 2010s produced a generation of films that refused to be just one thing. Smarter than they needed to be. Better than expected.
Great horror films are never really about the monster. They're about what the monster represents â fear, grief, guilt, the unknown.
A serial killer strikes fear in the hearts of residents of Hamburg during the early 1970s.
A family discovers that dark spirits have invaded their home after their son inexplicably falls into an endless sleep. When they reach out to a professional for help, they learn things are a lot more personal than they thought.
When a fearless enemy out for revenge unleashes a brutal and deadly new virus, BSAA captain Chris Redfield enlists the help of Agent Leon S. Kennedy and Professor Rebecca Chambers to bring down the death merchant and save New York City.
After suspecting that their police officer neighbor is a serial killer, a group of teenage friends spend their summer spying on him and gathering evidence, but as they get closer to discovering the truth, things get dangerous.
A darkness swirls at the center of a world-renowned dance company, one that will engulf the artistic director, an ambitious young dancer, and a grieving psychotherapist. Some will succumb to the nightmare. Others will finally wake up.
What separates great horror from cheap horror is craft. These films use silence, anticipation, and image with the precision of a surgeon.
Columbus, Tallahassee, Wichita, and Little Rock move to the American heartland as they face off against evolved zombies, fellow survivors, and the growing pains of the snarky makeshift family.
U.S. federal agent Leon S. Kennedy sneaks into the "East Slavic Republic" to verify rumors that Bio-Organic Weapons (BOWs) are being used in the country's civil war, which the U.S. and Russia are making preparations to jointly intervene in. Right after his infiltration, the U.S. government orders him to leave immediately. Determined to uncover the truth, Leon ignores the order and enters the battlefield to end the chain of tragedies caused by the BOWs.
During a shootout in a saloon, Sheriff Hunt injures a suspicious stranger. The doctor's assistant, wife of the local foreman, tends to him in prison. That night, the town is attacked and they both disappear-only the arrow of a cannibal tribe is found. Hunt and a few of his men go in search of the prisoner and the foreman's wife.
True-crime writer Ellison Oswalt is in a slump; he hasn't had a best seller in more than 10 years and is becoming increasingly desperate for a hit. So, when he discovers the existence of a snuff film showing the deaths of a family, he vows to solve the mystery. He moves his own family into the victims' home and gets to work. However, when old film footage and other clues hint at the presence of a supernatural force, Ellison learns that living in the house may be fatal.
A film that makes you think for days has done something rare: it's trusted you to do the work. These films trust you.
These films work not in spite of their darkness but because of what they do with it. Fear, in the right hands, is one of cinema's most honest tools.