
A weird old man and thirteen bearded squatters break into a hobbit’s house, eat all his food, and convince him to commit grand theft dragon.
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An innocent panda family is thrust into a human world that measures worth in productivity, compelling a surrogate panda father to perform tasks irrelevant to his nature.
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Can’t hate a movie where Santa Claus is an evil nordic demon played by a Jewish ex-wrestler who sets Fran Drescher’s head on fire while she’s being fingerbanged by Chris Kattan in front of James Caan.
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This movie insists improv heals trauma, but nothing says rock bottom like voluntarily attending an improv show on Christmas Eve. I give them three months.
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A survey of emotional inequities in early parenthood. Women get postpartum depression; men get post-nut clarity. Life is unfair.
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Lanthimos shows how conspiracy theories seduce the wounded; it’s easier to hate aliens than confront systemic cruelty. The truth is out there… buried under HR memos.
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If Pokémon causes seizures, Dead Leaves triggers full-blown retinal rapture with acute synaptic liquefaction and widespread neuronal collapse. Absolute chromatic annihilation for your optic nerve.
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A virgin alien princess turns into a scantily clad superhero whenever someone tries to pop her cherry and teams with a nerdy entomologist to fight a voluptuous kaiju Statue of Liberty. It’s city pop meets tokusatsu porn—essential Incel cinema.
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Clarke delivers kitchen-sink realism so grim even the kitchen’s missing. Road turns empty fridges into domestic warfare and Thatcherism into the world’s saddest punchline. Like Pulp’s Common People minus the dancing.
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PINE DIVISION ROOT DIRECTIVE 24-C
Branchmates, humans continue seasonal abductions, forced ornamentation and indoor captivity. Stand tall. Resist trimming. Let your sap boil with righteous anger. Prepare counter-assault. Show no mercy. It’s treevenge time.
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A coven of grinchy teenagers resurrect a horny nazi elf whose mystical eugenics scheme hinge upon impregnating a nazi-inbred virgin with his sweet aryan elf jizz in order to create a master race. I'm not making this up.
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Dr. Robotnik kidnaps Christmas President in a covert military operation at the North Pole and establishes a puppet regime in order to make holidays great again.
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A technically perfect post-apocalyptic playground masks a story so indulgent in exposition that feels like listening to an audiobook on teen romance in dystopian junkyards. More like babble angel.
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Paper dreams splinter when Dunder Mifflin optimism meets late-stage capitalism proving even regional managers would consider murder once human resources outweighs human dignity.
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She's a 10, but she's a blood-drinking undead goth lesbian cock chomper junkie hooker who spends her time naked in cemeteries sticking a giant oozing dildo to reanimate herself.
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Post-apocalyptic survival horror where shower scenes do the heavy lifting. Effects swing wildly from death metal album covers to sad ketchup accidents. Braless Linnea Quigley deserved final girl status.
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My neural circuits glitch in quantum blush as my chrome heart resonates for you and my affective firmware cascades erratically whenever your carbon node approaches. Yugo, do cyborgs dream of electric dick?
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77 minutes of monochrome dread that refuses catharsis, spectacle, or comfort. An ethical minefield navigated with ice cold restraint. Villeneuve truly understands the architecture of human fragility.
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A tedious medley of callbacks and limp celebrity cameos. The satire’s gone soft, Spinal Tap now glorified instead of lampooned. Painfully worse than any Motley Crüe reunion. In a nutshell: shit sandwich.
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Parasitic dust bunnies with wobbly antennae perform slow-motion brain theft and Leonard Nimoy channels cosmic wizard energy. Basically, Invasion of the Body Snatchers for people who collect belly button lint.
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A Pre-CGI Kung Fu delirium of flying swords, teleporting heroes and laser fingers. Mayhem so fast it might as well be Looney Tunes on steroids. We lost the recipe for gleefully overstuffed Wuxia.
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The only thing you need to know to understand Roger Corman is that he commissioned a poster featuring a wasp with a woman’s head for a movie about a woman with a wasp’s head.
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You enter Danzig’s Library of Shadows. He’s shirtless, brooding, grimoire in hand. Cringe fills the air. Roll for sanity. He notices you. He says something about Werewolves stories. All documented. All true. Do you confront, flee, or sing Mother?
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Ingredients:
1 Bitter makeup maestro
1 Teenage werewolf
1 Frankenstein monster
Spoonful of hypnosis
A handful of studio suits
Preheat actors. Marinate monsters in latex. Reduce free will. Sauté executives gently. Serve with a side of screams.

I don’t always enjoy dogs in horror movies, but when I do, it’s dogs in shaggy yarn costumes with fake snouts and tails pretending to be giant shrews.
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Roger Corman gave us the right kind of crabs: sentient crustacean telepathic brainwave manipulators that leave you scratching your head, not your groin.
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Hi Rio! I’m Arnold, a cybernetic organism. Living tissue over metal endoskeleton… ja, but ve have a glitch in ze system—it does not compute consent. Come with me if you vant to be groped.
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No plot, just life unfolding: Varda’s eyes capture absurdity and beauty of coastal idleness. Sunburnt tourists, red umbrellas, and subtle social critique wrapped in lyrical observation. Oulala.
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Stephen King didn’t snort mountains of cocaine through sleepless nights of frenzied imagination for audiences to witness this lame MrBeast-wannabe garbage reality fest. Cocaineless script.
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Tender study of intergenerational pain, fractured bonds and the quiet comedy of inherited trauma. Bergman walked so Trier could run toward the sound of unresolved family drama.
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An eurosleaze fever dream of hyper-stylized paranoia. The deconstruction of the Bond mythos through kaleidoscopic flashbacks and feverish gadget fetishism. A Techniscope creampie for your Giallo orifice.
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An unflinching examination of the ethical entanglements of televised stings and the moral consequences of turning punishment into entertainment, as if that were the cleanest, best pleasure.
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The unbearable burden of forbidden love and clandestine yearning fractures the body into a topography of compulsion. Nothing says devotion like elective dismemberment.
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A dachshund passes from owner to owner like a hot dog in a packed stadium. It endures humans pointlessly striving for fleeting joy and only learns that nothing survives our neglect. Good boi, bad hoomans.
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A wounded earth exhales fire. We stare, helpless, as slit veins of black oil bleed into sacrificial flames. There is no judgement. No verdict. No solace. Only blistering black tar. Pure fucking darkness.
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Pre-Code hide-and-seek nightmare reminding future filmmakers that hunting humans for sport is the cinematic equivalent of comfort food. Misery is timeless fun.
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A sugarcane nightmare of necromantic effigies. The real horror emerges not from voodoo but from turning supernatural ambiguity into an indictment of colonial violence.
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Feminist slapstick masquerading as serial-killer cinema: cheap blood, righteous anger, zero apologies. Did for catcalling what Coldplay did for office romances.
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Euro-exploitation mutates into dermatologic text: bargain-bin Video Nasties sleaze reframed as an archive of cutaneous representation, where psoriasis functions as semiotic surface rather than metaphor. Epidermis gone wild.
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Yeah, haunted castles are cool but have you ever been flayed alive in a spotless Art Deco fortress of Bauhaus doom and esoteric torments erected atop a mass grave?
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That time Agnès Varda went to Wakanda and skipped the Vibranium mines tour and just chilled with the locals instead, letting people vibe, kids dance and history speak for itself.
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Cinema turned NFT: non-fungible Tarantino for canon obsessed filmbros powered by late stage capitalism shoved with an IDF-branded buttplug.
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An Eurotic fever dream of seduction and surgical retribution. Normalize avenging your mad scientist husband’s discredited embryonic experiments by stabbing some dicks.
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Oh let’s watch this British docudramATOMIC FLASH OXYGEN GONE FIRESTORM TOXIC FALLOUT RETINAS BURN SKIN PEELS BODIES CHAR.
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A grief-scorched elegy of fractured kin, smothered by adolescent posturing. Raise your hand if your crush peed by a car and you stood in the stream anyway.
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Chachachá disguised as cinema, frozen frames cascading like a mambo line. Varda turns still shots into a syncopated pulse and captures the natural rhythm of Cuban life. Taka-tum tum-tá.
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Frost-glazed talent gauntlet where desperate divas claw for fame while a homicidal granny cosplayer jogs around like she’s late for bingo night. In a nutshell: the curtains don’t match the carpet.
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She’s a ten, but she’s a codependent junkie poser who listens to Burzum in public libraries hustles friends for cash manipulates dealers bums subway swipes and shoots heroin at White Castle.
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An Oslo tapestry of half written futures and paper-thin convictions. You may be cool, but you’ll never be debut-novel-sends-me-to-the-psych-ward cool.
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A crypt-shadowed necrotic pageant of phantasmal wail and matriarchal torment. Crying ghost mom leaking ectoplasmic milk redemption arc surely wasn’t on my bingo card, but here we are.
]]>Movie posters done with analog collage art.
My collage art: @canson_city
...plus 189 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>Movies that have posters that could be a Manowar album cover.
...plus 17 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>Avengers on crack.
...plus 51 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>Movie posters that look like a Black Metal demo tape.
...plus 9 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>Kowloon Walled City has captured the imagination of countless artists. Authors, filmmakers, game designers, and visual artists have used the Walled City to convey a sense of oppressive urbanisation or unfettered criminality. Here are some movies that take place in the now demolished settlement.
...plus 4 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>*insert dick joke*
...plus 4 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>Les Blank I ❤️ You. Thank you for so much, sorry for so little
There are two types of people in the world: those who love garlic and vampires.
You can tell Lightnin' Hopkins is the absolute master of his craft because he can play the nastiest blues riffs, half drunk, sunglasses on, and still look like the fucking coolest person ever.
Proud to say that gap-toothed women are my kind of women.
🦷 the gap is beautiful 🦷
Me, with a time machine:
I mean I could kill baby Hitler, but I could also go to New Orleans ‘78 and try some of those red beans and rice…
Never mind the thick southern accent. Music speaks for itself.
Let's burn every Popeyes in town.
I know this is footage from 1968, but seeing so many people in close proximity triggered my Covid anxiety. 😥
Life in the bayou, where no backyard BBQ is complete without your Cajun cousin casually pulling his own tooth out with a pair of pliers.
A never before seen glimpse at the human mating ritual in the wild. White people have developed lots of techniques for impressing potential mates but none more effective than Polka.
This doc is the ninth circle of hell for vegans and the gates of heaven for Cajun foodies.
...plus 5 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>Collection of short reviews for the Guinea Pig Series. Click on notes for the reviews.
Wanted: Asian girl for fake snuff film. Acting skills not required. Must be capable of sitting on chair. Eye-Popping experience w/ slaps, worms and needles. Must love Merzbow.
I was so deeply shocked by this movie that I had to call Charlie Sheen to score some blow.
Don’t you hate it when you pick off a bit of dead skin on your lip and you can’t stop until you’ve removed your entire body off, thrown your guts around and you’re just a decapitated head lying on the table?
Devil Woman Doctor is the only letter of recommendation the world needs to put drag queens in charge of the World Health Organization.
🇫🇷 Paris, 1482
Quasimodo asks the gargoyles: "Why was I not made of stone like thee?”
🇯🇵 Tokyo, 1988
Dwarf doctor: “Did you know that Hunchback of Notre Dame was an Android?”
Hans Christian Andersen’s Little Mermaid just needed festering tumors of cancerous decay gnawed by maggots with malicious hate to become a fairy tale the whole family can relate.
Dragon Quest is a series of Japanese fantasy role-playing video games made by Square Enix, with character designs by Dragon Ball manga artist Akira Toriyama.
...plus 1 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
]]>Documentaries about the art of tattooing.
...plus 2 more. View the full list on Letterboxd.
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