To be honest we bipassed most of the hype surrounding Quentin Dupieux’s killer-tyre adventure on its release, partly because we’re lazy bastard and partly because… well, because it’s a film about a killer tyre.
Seriously, it’s the cinematic equivalent of hanging round Camden tube station in new rock boots. The premise screams “Look at me! Am i blowing your mainstream mind with my weirdness?! I bet I am yeah?!”
And that kind of thing can.. well, fuck off in general. No one cares.

So, seeing as the movie has now burst onto home screens as well (get it? Tyre.. burst… you see… sigh….) we thought it was well worth a revisit, judged entirely on it’s own charms rather than any surrounding hyperbole.
Surprisingly, there are a few Mitchelin stars to be had here…
Part of the fun comes from the meta-meta framing devices. From the off we have sheriff Stephen Spinella revealing that he knows it’s all just a movie, while we get lots of fourth wall bothering dialogue (The cops wondering what the audience is thinking work wonderfully), and the director isn’t averse to telling us about some of the challenges he faced making the film (Well – you try giving character to a Dunlop).

Surprisingly, it’s these challenges that are overcome most successfully. ‘Robert’ amazingly becomes a character to root for, and there’s tons of fun to be had watching the weirdest take on a superhero origin story you’re likely to see this decade.

There’s also some fun character elements as we see the titular tyre peeking in on girls and having some very black humoured fun with his powers -cue tons of exploding heads and mutilated cops. Luckily they know that “Hey, it’s not real life…”.

Overall there’s a lot of positive things to say for Rubber. it’s funny, and there’s actually some rather lovely landscape photography going on from time to time, the tyre rolling endlessly down deserted desert roads gives the whole thing a surreal ‘Mad Max by Wim Wenders’ aesthetic.

Unfortunately there’s only so long a nice sunset can sustain your attention. There’s clunky dialogue to deal with and things start to become repetitive halfway through (although maybe that’s the point in a film about a wheel). Released as a short, this would be a fantastic calling card, but it’s a little too trying even for hardened midnight movie-goers.

Worth catching on cable, but not shelling out for yet, it definitly points out Dupieux as one to watch.

Going in to former BBC visual effects guru Gareth Edwards’s first big screen foray, it’s forgivable if audience and reviewer alike are amped up in expectation of this year’s ‘District 9′, so it comes as a shock when we get a rambling, very human drama that meanders along at a pace that matches it’s protagonists long trip across central America towards their comfy suburban homes.

In terms of plot, there’s a fairly straightfoward setup that’s efficiantly dealt with in the opening credits. At some point in the past a space probe is sent to investigate possible alien life, on it’s return, the probe breaks up over Mexico, causing strange new life-forms to arise and spread. In the panic the US and Mexico wall off much of central America and begin a long running (and possibly futile) battle to halt the spread.

Cast into the middle of this we find photographer Andrew (a rangey and able Scoot McNairy), tasked with escorting his boss’ injured daughter Sam (the elfin, and frankly too-sexy-by-half Whitney Able) home from South America. With no ferries or air travel available across the ‘infected zone’, they find themselves forced to cross the heavily guarded no man’s land, first in the company of gun-weilding mercenaries, then finally trekking up to a mile high wall erected as protection by the US.

Of cours, the US has resorted to walls and violence to keep the alien invaders out – anyone miss the metaphor?

And that, in a nutshell, is the biggest problem here. The heavy handed preaching unfortuantely becomes grating and patronises the audience, while the central characters lack empathy – Sam is a spoilt little rich girl, Andrew is..well, a bit of a dick really, meaning scenes which could have been emotionally stirring are rendered isolated and quickly dismissed. The characters (of course) begin to fall for each other, but they never develop in any noticable way despite the horrors they witness on their journey.

Edwards litters the script with wishy-washy liberalisms too. The soldiers in the jungle talk about the wall with Sam who agrees “hey, yeah, it’s like, we’re fencing ourselves in…man…” while on reaching the wall Andrew pipes up with the oh-so-wise 2 it’s so weird, looking into the US from outside, you know? And tomorrow it’ll be so easy to forget all this…”

Wow man…like…mind. BLOWN!

or not. If you’ve a modicum of intelligence you’ll recognise these as first year student ramblings, poorly formed and ill-advised. The underlying message here is that hey, even if things seem different, we’re all the same deep down man,. Can’t we all just get along? A point hammered home as the pair witness a bizarre alien mating ritual once they’re over the border. Hey man, they tried to stem the flood of illegal aliens into the country, but they got in anyway dude, and hey – they’re a lot like us really aren’t they? (apart from being 80-foot tall photonic Octopusephants obviously).

On the plus side Edwards has a superlative eye for cinematography, catching the startling latin scenery in awe inspiring detail. Magnificent ancient ziggaruts contrast starkly with scenes of urban decay and genuinely realistic military destruction, while the waters on an ill-advised river trip are magical, calling to mind Eric Gautier’s wonderful work in The Motorcycle Diaries. The quiet beauty is wonderfully realised.

As a nature documentary, this would be stirring stuff, but as a movie, it’s meandering, overlong and misguided. it’s crass to say so but the film fairly cries out for a few good action sequences. Instead we get a mish-mash of ‘Blue Planet’ with splashes of Jurassic Park and Schindlers List, minus the excitement or emotional heft of either.

Overall, this is a good looking but unrewarding watch.

Unfortunately it’s in glorious head-in-way vision, but who cares – here’s your first peak at next years frozen creepout fest – The Thing Prequel. Not many details are forthcoming regarding the exact plot this update/reboot/pre-boot to John Carpenter’s ‘82 classic will take, but so far but we do know it’ll feature Norwegians (or ‘Crazy Swedes’ if you prefer) giant blocks of ice, dynamite, flame-throwers and of course, gigantic exploding spider-head beasts from beyond the stars!

Clint Eastwood can usually be relied on to deliver some gravitas and cultural nous with each successive release, although judging by the latest promo for his new supernatural drama ‘Hereafter’, he may be about to jump the shark and head off into M.Night Shymalan territory.

Still, Matt Damon is always good value and despite the over-keen use of Photoshop’s grey filter and bizarre Londoners sporting Yorkshire accents second act (not to mention a tube explosion -possibly a touch too sensitive for some) we’re reserving judgement for the moment.

Remember when you were young and horror movies were actually allowed to be weird and scary? Of course you don’t, we deliberately pitch this blog at 7 year olds. Still, if you consider your self a cinematic gourmand (and that doesn’t mean ordering nachos with extra electric cheese) then you may have more than a passing familiarity with Robin Hardy, and his leading man du jour Christopher Lee.

The pair teamed up way, way back in 68, and the naked Britt Ekland filled result was the fantastic, timelessly creepy The Wicker Man.

Unfortunately Hollywood couldn’t leave well enough alone and decided to improve on the concept by… erm… torturing Nic Cage with some bees… ahem, anyway, as if to show them that no one does really, really fucking odd quite like the Brits, Hardy and Lee have coalesced once more and the result is – The Wicker Tree.

Based on the brand new trailer above god only knows what it’s about, but early news hints that we can expect more apple-fuelled child murder, with more than a hint of evangelical christianity butting heads with the ‘hey lets all get wasted and shag on the golf course’ pagan gods that informed the truly odd original.

Is it too much to ask for Count Dracula to don a dress once more? Probably, but there does at least seem to be plenty of shouting, so we can but hope.

The Wicker Tree is scheduled for release later this year- check out the official site for more details.

As the cult of ass-to-mouth surrounding vile but slightly boring schocker The Human Centipede continues to grow, it was only a matter of time before someone figured out how to make it even more fucked up and off putting than it already was, and hey, while the original was pretty diabolical, it was also pretty, well boring really.

Luckily if there’s one thing garuanteed to spice up a party, it’s a huge pair of hooters, so take a bow The Human Sexipede!

Yep, it’s a porn parody that gives doggy style a whole new meaning if this trailer is anything to go by.

I’ll be honest with you, I’m actually a bit weirded out by this. Enjoy perverts, enjoy…

To be honest, I didn’t have high hopes for The Collector. Speaking as a man who gave up on the Saw franchise after number two (in name and nature), I don’t have a lot of time for torture-pon grot. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve still got an old vhs of The Beyond I dig out once in a while, so I’ve nothing against ridiculously gratuitous splattering. I just prefer it when it serves the plot, rather than being the plot.Still, it was a quiet Friday and I’d managed to blag free tickets, so I figured I’d check it out – and I’m actually glad I did.

Director Dunstan worked alongside writer Patrick Melton on the aforementioned Saw franchise, as well as the ludicrous/idiotic Feast films, but here they manage to break away from by-the-numbers splatter and actually tie-in some serious questions aboout the nature of evil.

Josh Stewart is Arkin, a debt-ridden cat burglar breaking into an isolated and seemingly deserted house. But what’s this? That’s right readers! It isn’t deserted at all. The family who live there have been tied up about the place, and the perpetrator (Juan Fernández in full Leatherface mode) has set a series of bizarre, jigsaw-esque traps about the place. Hey -it could happen to anyone.
Credulity aside, it does open up a barrel of interesting moral worms, Arkin torn between the needs to rob, run or help the victims, and his internal conflict does wonders to spice up the otherwise overused home-invasion macguffin. And while the ‘torturous traps bit has been similarly overdone, there’s still enough invention on show here to provide some decent seat-jump moments (watch out for those bear-traps!).

...he knows when you've been sleeping..he knows when you're awake...

Combining two highly overused horror tropes and chucking in a stock loony in a bad mask shouldn’t work at all, but by cutting out any flab from the script and choosing to focus on the emotional dilemma as much as the flesh-ripping, the Collector drags itself out of the hostel for used gorno to take it’s rightful place as a lean and very mean chop-job.

With Sean “Y’bloody bastards’ Bean in full knight’s regalia and ‘Severance’ man Christopher Smith in the directors chair, you’d be forgiven for expecting a ridiculously gory horror that doesn’t take it’s historical trappings too seriously. Rather than following in the thoroughly ridiculous footsteps of ‘Soloman Kane’ however, Smith seems to have taken a conscious decision to continue the expressive expansion he began in Triangle, resulting in a film that isn’t afraid to play the stupid seriously, and it’s all the better for it.

Bean is Ulric, a knight charged by the church with investigating a remote settlement which seems immune to the ravages of the eponymous plague. Suspecting necromancy, Bean leads a team of sadistic witchunters into a marshland community that’s held under the sway of villainous -sort-of – Pagan Sorceress Langiva ( a compelling and surprisingly weighty Denise Van Houten), dragging us along on a twisting trail that delves into religious intolerance, superstition and mob fear.

Bean is stony-faced throughout, the stoicism that first appeared in LOTR here ramped up as things take a turn into Wicker Man-esque weirdness.

While the film’s long gestation (It originally popped up around Frightfest time last year) means that some of the modern parallels it pokes at are slightly dated (Swine-flu in particular), but it manages to make a convincing and deftly handled argument about the nature of evil, pitting the herd instinct and superstition against the possibility of the supernatural with some very creepy results, while the decision to anchor the often gruesome action around young novice monk Osmund’s ( an affecting and naturalistic Eddie Redmayne) conflicted faith adds an effective human element to proceedings.

Ah yes – the aforementioned grue. Well, this coming from Smith means there’s certainly no shyness when it comes to chopped-off limbs and exploding bubos, but he also manages to utilise camera filters and floats wonderfully, adding a dream-like eeriness that will stick with you long after you’ve finished wincing over disgusting pustules – while his take on a crucifixion is one of the finest single-shot scenes since Goodfellas.

Overall this is violent and gory, but full of excellent, emotionally charged performances and a very British sense of the odd that’s been sorely lacking from horror for many a year. Not afraid to face weighty issues and wear it’s philosophy on it’s sleeve, Black Death is one of the finest horrors released this year and should summon it’s own hefty cult following in years to come.

Hollywood loves a good horror film, they always have. From films based on real life murders to alien invasions everyone loves to be scared in one way or another. However the recent slew of bad sequels and even worse remakes is a very new phenomenon and Hollywood appears to be doing rather well from these shambolic films as people flock to see a safe horror film.

While new to the mainstream these dodgy horror films have always been there dwelling in the sewers of the million dollar studios used to create the a-list movies you love, these are the b-movies and this is their time.

B-movies are cheap, badly made, unrealistic, jumpy, and at times very funny. I credit one man with the return of the b-movie and while it may have been slow he’s brought it into the main stream without you even realising it. His name is Sam Raimi. Yes I know he made Spiderman, Spiderman 2, and the shocking Spiderman 3, but look at the terrible humour in that, it’s all b-movie….

It started with Evil Dead in 1981. If you’ve seen this film you will know what I’m talking about and if not then stop reading this and watch it immediately it will change your life like only a film with a woman being raped by a tree can. Starring Bruce ‘the chin’ Campbell as Ash this film is the epitome of b-movie. The effects consist of shaky camerawork and super fast tracking shots that are sometimes painful to watch. The plot is about a book which has released a demonic curse upon a cabin where 5 friends are staying and the only way to kill anyone who becomes ‘infected’ is to dismember them. The script and acting are beyond funny and the gore is just epic.

As bad as I just made that sound it is one of the most original films probably ever made and Sam Raimi was just 21 at the time. Of course he made a sequel and guess what? It was just as good or bad, however you want to look at it. Over 20 years later and he has returned with Drag Me To Hell.

Now, Drag Me To Hell may not seem like a b-movie but it definitely is. Hailed as the return to form for Sam Raimi it couldn’t be anything less.

Thinking about it now the plot was fairly stupid and there wasn’t actually that much of it happening. It centres around Christine Brown, a bank worker who is cursed by a gypsy who she refused a loan, this curse unleashes the demon Lamia who in three days will take her soul to hell. The ending was quite shocking and left me feeling a little bit betrayed, but later I thought that’s ace!

Sam Raimi just can’t help himself from making that sort of classic horror. I know lots of people hated this film, but it’s just like the exorcist really and nobody said that was silly. If you want realism watch a harrowing drama. The comedy here isn’t laugh out loud but more the sort of humour that makes you ashamed of being scared as dead bodies leak embalming fluid and a nose bleed looks more like a knife wound. The director even managed to squeeze in an evil dead like scene where Christine Brown is heroically passing on her curse in a muddied grave.

Everyone can respect a film that does exactly what you want it to do and doesn’t shove some ulterior message down your throat. The only thing shoved down throats here is buttons.

The only thing differentiating this from Raimi’s earlier work was the acting which by newcomer Alison Lohman (Christine) was excellent. It looked and felt low-budget and it didn’t try to be anything more than what it was. This is why B- movie is the new A-movie when it comes to horror.

Politics, elections, proportional representation, yadda yadda yadda…

Let’s lighten things up shall we? Let’s talk about a child sex killer who gets burnt to death, and then haunts his former prey, slashing them to bits in their dreams, shall we?

That’s right, Freddy Kruger’s back. Again. The remake/re-boot/’re-imagining’ of A Nightmare On Elm Street is here and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it. Apart from watch it (or ignore it).

Before we start, let’s just imagine that Frederick Krudger were real. Wouldn’t he just be the Daily Mail’s ultimate wet dream? Not only is our man a paedophile, he is also quite possiblly an immigrant paedophile (check out his surname…). The worst kind, eh Daily Mail?!

Slashing The Seats was granted access to the exclusive premiere of the film last night in London’s glitzy West End, walking down the red carpet and mixing with such stars and luminaries as Sir Anthony Hopkins, George Clooney and Dame Helen Mirren.

Well, that isn’t strictly true. It was an advance screening that we couldn’t really be arsed to go to and had to pay £4.75 for a bag of Munchies. We were graced by the presence of ‘That Bloke Over There’, ‘The Man Who Came By Himself And Is Rocking Worringly In His Seat’ and ‘That Girl Over There With The Big Rack’. But don’t tell STS’ friends, because STS’ friends think STS is cool and gets into film premieres and stuff.

Okay, that isn’t strictly true either, STS’ friends think that STS is a sad and lonely film geek who needs to get laid, but anyway – LET’S TALK ABOUT THE FILM, SHALL WE?

Freddy is as Freddy was in Wes Craven’s classic original. He’s still sporting that fetching red and black striped jumper, that dirty ol’ fedora and that handful of knives. New Freddy (Watchmen’s Jackie Earle Haley) can’t help it, but the 2010 version is almost laughably short. I mean, it’s one thing being a nonce (and a foreign nonce at that), but a short nonce?! That’s just unforgivable… But what Rorschach lacks in stature, he more than makes up for in menace. He’s not a guy you’d like to go for a picnic with.*

Just look at the state of this grouting...

This time out the onus is slightly more on Kruger’s child molesting and his crimes and character before he starting interfering in kids’ dreams. That element of Kruger combined with Haley’s talent for creepiness somehow contrives to make him more disturbing as the pre-burns paedophile Fred Kruger than as his nightmarish vision. After all, the image of Freddy is so familiar now, especially after 53 sequels (including Freddy vs Jason- which I was disappointed to find was not 90 minutes of Jason Lee having his face shredded to pieces in his sleep). Couple that with the clichéd Halloween image we all know and it has robbed Freddy of any real terror. I mean, he’s wearing a Dennis the Menace jumper for Chrissakes!

It’s your standard hokey remake stuff, with effective performances from Quentin (played by a young Pete Doherty) and lead girl Nancy (Roona Mara). The inclusion of Katie Cassidy as high school student Kris looks a little out of place (she looks about 34…) and coupled with her dreadful acting, it stilts the first half of the film somewhat. But I’m not sure too many viewers will care too much.

What they will care about is how impressive the death scenes are and they are this: ‘pretty impressive’. Other stand-out scenes include a corridor of blood, Freddy coming through the walls (not like that) and a scene where a class full of students turn to ash.

The original is better, but then you knew that, didn’t you? This is a decent stab (ho ho ho!) at a remake and while it doesn’t unsettle as much as you might hope, it does the job. The 1984 film sparked seven sequels, and they’ve knowingly left room for more here. And why not? Everyone likes seeing teenagers slaughtered by the dream-inhabiting, burnt ghosts of kiddy-fiddlers don’t they? And why?

Because THAT’S ENTERTAINMENT!

*Although saying that, he would be useful for cutting up the pork pie.

Time to welcome Neil Marshall back from the post-apocalyptic hinterlands of Scotland for his latest, a…erm…post-apocalyptic* adventure set in Scotland…

Looking back on his work, it’s clear that Neil has an affection for genre pics – nowt wrong with that. Dog Soldiers set up a small group of hard nuts against Werewolves. Descent set up a group of soon-to-be hardnuts against..whatever that weird Morlocky thing was. Doomsday set up..well, you get the idea, and while it doesn’t quite reach the absurd brilliance of his earlier take on lycanthropy, Marshall’s look at ancient British history is still a grab bag of gory fun with a certain swaggering charm.

It’s the 2nd century, and the chaps in Rome are a mite pissed off with a bunch of hairy Scots ner-do-wells wandering about and beating the crap out of various border patrols. Time for a spot of overkill thinks emperor Hadrian.

Hey, what else can is he supposed to do? It’s not like he can build a wall along the entire side of the country is it?

Enter the Ninth Legion, a bunch of crack leather-skirted lunatics taking time out from chopping up Visigoths. Unfortunately their overconfidence proves ill-founded, as fierce Pict Etain (Kurylenko) takes out most of the legion before embarking on a gory chase movie for the next two acts.

Plus points first then: Clearly the director’s penchant for filming in Caledonian woodland is bearing bitter fruit – the cinematography here is fantastic (Marshall’s penchant for over-using the blue filter aside). Mist soaked woodlands come across as beautifully primal and eerie, the landscape displaying a rugged, terrifying charm that The Lord of the Rings would have been proud of. Lead Roman Michael Fassbinder and his surviving men have a whale of a time plunging through the deep forests and scrambling up shale covered hillsides in their bid for escape, the landscape itself one of the most formidable opponents on display.

Unfortunately Etain and her fellow Picts just don’t compare.

The action is all-out, frantic chases across a terrifying landscape, but it’s too break-neck, with little time for character development as one faceless legionnaire after another is despatched by a variety of interchangeable blue-faced Pictish loonies. Meanwhile Kurylenko’s character is mute, meaning her already limited emoting time is reduced to a montage of angry scowls. The Picts have a genuine grievance against the Roman invaders, so it’s a shame that both sides of the story aren’t aired in a more effective fashion – if they were, this could be something quite special, rather than the effective but somewhat run of the mill shocker we’ve ended up with.

But hey, it’s an action flick with added swords and sandals, and when it does succeed, it’s great. Dominic West stands out as slightly deranged, scenery-chewing general Virilus, and while Fassbinder struggles to convince in his five minute encounter with a token luverly lady, he scowls, growls and punches his way through the often electrifying action sequences in fine style, proving himself as a major action star in the making.

Overall this is good, but not great, and while it’s a shame that some of the missed opportunities stand out so clearly on screen, what remains is a brutal romp that will go down a treat on DVD with a few beers and a pizza.

*OK, OK, it was the apocalypse as far as the Roman Empire was concerned, so I say it still counts. It’s my f**king blog ok?

So there’s this sort-of sexy, sort-of spooooky girl yeah? And she’s needs a part time job. Now, if you have lank black hair, then obviously a creeeeeeepy mental institute would be your first choice too right?
I mean, I’m not exactly carrying all my hammers in one bag either, so I can see the appeal -free meds lying around, getting to lick Sarah Connors face, it’s the complete package…

Such is the working life of suitably haunted looking Sara Foster, making the traditional leap from fashion modelling by starring in -a low budget horror! Still, she was in D.E.B.S too, so I’m sure the academy is taking notes. Unfortunately for the divine Ms.F, this particular hospital has just closed down, and why exactly they’d want a night shift is never really explained – although frankly it’s the least of the gaping plot holes on display here.

If you do make it through the relentlessly hokey set-up, then don’t go blaming me when a serial killer gets loose and starts picking off young nubiles, while any originality is left to rust alongside the viewer’s braincells.
Carey Elwes pops up during the second act, as a creepy doctor inexplicably hanging about the deserted wards, and finally completing the transformation from Princess Bride great bloke to waxwork model of David Niven that he’s been working on for a few years now.

I should say this is mercifully short, but it’s barely-feature-length running time seems more a result of editing assembled by a chimp with OCD, rather than a shortage of material. Ridiculously crass and often wilfully idiotic, the whole thing suffocates under a dearth of ripped off influences and hackneyed dialogue, hopefully ensuring that director Andrew Shortell will never work again.

The worst piece of low-budget horror we’ve seen since Death Tunnel, avoid like an abandoned mental hospital at midnight.

Remember the 1980’s? They were well skill weren’t they? With your high-top trainers and body warmer you were probably pretty cool as you skateboarded down to the awesome new multi-screen cinema that opened in your town, hoping you could scope out some well wicked flicks and maybe score with some bodacious babes along the way.

So, you pay your £1.50 entrance fee and find that Tim Burton’s Batman is playing on 7 screens, and Back to the Future 2 is on the remaining 6 – woah; totally heinous dude! How’s a hard-core gorehound like you going to get his grue-filled kicks when every decent horror movie has been banned by Maggie Thatcher: Milk Snatcher?!

Well if you were resourceful, you popped down to your local video store/ice cream van, slipped them a tenner and got a dodgy third-hand VHS copy of Evil Dead, and possibly some crap German porn as a bonus. Or you could take the more circuitous route followed by director Ti West; Wait 25 years, then score some ancient filming equipment and film your very own hoary 80’s scarefest – with seriously scary results!

That House of the Devil works at all is testament to the resilience of the themes it explores, using the 80’s ‘Satanic Panic’ epidemic as a backdrop, the film may rely on clichés, but it ignores the crutch of irony completely, instead delivering a sharp shocker that will grumble away in the back of your head, replete with jouissiant ending for true 80’s compatibility.

Plot-wise we’re on familiar if skewed ground, following all-American teen Sophie Hughes (an excellent, fluff-permed Jocalyne Donahue) as she follows up the offer of a baby-sitting gig at a c-c- cer-eeeepy old mansion.

From here on in it’s stock-horror character stupidity all the way, Sophie agreeing to stay on even after the oddball couple who own the place admit they don’t have kids, just a largely unseen elderly relative parked in the attic, and acquiring clues to a darker secret as strange happenings go bump in the night around her.

Fortunately West keeps a firm hand on the tiller, never letting things slip into parody. The whole thing comes off as a superbly thought out pastiche that shows both glowing affection for B-level 80’s crud alongside a brave decision to follow in the footsteps of 70’s classics like Rosemary’s Baby.

Slow-burn dread with the occasional shocker squirrelled away, House of the Devil offers a genuine return to a genre that Hollywood remakes have all but forgotten how to do. This is taught and fun, the ideal date horror movie.

I say – here’s a decent way of whiling away some time!

You may have seen this new film trailed on the television. Well now you can be in the trailer.

What with The Crazies coming out in cinemas soon, the studio’s come up with an amusing way of making the trailer go viral, enabling you to add their actual, real face into the clip using technology! Try it here.

I had a go at doing it with the face of George Lamb – but there’s no limit to who you can get involved. Paul Shane, Dawn Porter, Noel Edmonds… the whole world of TV is at your fingertips.

While you’re about, it why not have a look at the trailer…

Dennis Nielson transplanted to an ultra miserabalist Hackney council estate hardly sounds like riveting entertainment, but Gerard Johnson’s deconstructionalist take on everyday serial killing manages to dig some very black laughs out of the grim setting..

Tony (a perfectly odd Peter Ferdinando) is the type of strange, sad little man you often see wandering round Costcutter, replete with brown puffer coat, weird hairdo and carrier bag.

And a flat full of corpses.

He’s naturally the first suspect when a local child goes missing, and the film makes the most of the irony, Tony getting away with mutilating dozens of victims, but being hounded when he’s falsely accused of paedophilia.

There’s also a touch of urban alienation commentary here, with Tony killing so that he has someone to talk to, propping up bodies and offering them tea in front of the TV – and killing a license inspector who threatens to remove it, while the viewing choice is a selection of 80’s action movies on VHS, a quirky character attribute that shows how far the rest of the world has moved on from this sad little man.

Johnson capably chronicles some of London’s more dead-end areas, with bit parts for the full range of Chavish street life, and tension is kept high as Tony lets plenty of possible victims go, leaving you completely in the dark as to who will be attending a ghoulish night in next, while there’s some great moments of hard-to-watch mundanity – A gay clubber offering sex in exchange for a bed gets a hammer to the forehead when his lame conversation runs out – as he routinely disposes of the bodies of people no one cares about.

The setting is surprisingly realistic given the possibility for melodrama here that brings Mike Leigh to mind, and the whole movie is better for it, uncomfortable but occasionally very amusing against the concrete estate odds. It demystifies its villain, a loner but not a mysterious one, just a boring loser with nothing better to do, Tony is a weird little gem of a movie that grips as strongly as it repels.

Trailer (IMDB)

Universal’s attempts to update it’s classic monster properties have so far met with little success, instead inflicting the likes of Van Helsing on audiences and squandering some truly great premises, and while The Wolman won’t be to everyone’s taste, it’s certainly a step up from CGI fests such as The Mummy.

From the get go, there’s a very different feel about this film – that’s ‘film’ as opposed to ‘movie’ – with a pervading sense of dread that matches the original. The opening hunt scene showcases the Werewolf as a dangerous, feral predator lurking in the foggy wastes, and while there’s certainly a touch of CGI enhancement to the mist drifting about, it’s a fun, scary addition that we haven’t seen since American Werewolf’s moor-stalking.

After the quick and surprisingly bloody intro, we bump into the victim’s brother Lawrence Tutwell (Benicio Del Toro, cheekily foreshadowing events as he plays the lead in an on-screen production of Hamlet) and the film scores a genuinely huge bonus with it’s leading man, bringing a detailed, grounded and pathetic character rendition to the screen. Indeed, the presence of so many genuinely heavyweight thesps brings a gloriously Hammer-esque feel to proceedings – straight faced, and as such adding a delicious sense of camp without resorting to knowing winks or cheesy one liners. Director Joe Johnston certainly can’t be accused of talking down to his audience either, engaging with complex psychological questions – albeit with a light touch – as Del Toro questions if his transformations are real or a dream.

Indeed, this may turn out to be the film’s downfall; whether the measured plot and slow-ratcheting tension will hold the attention of a mainstream audience remains questionable, but the overall effect is engaging and never resorts to cat-in-cupboard moments to generate scares.

As the conclusion looms however, the action cranks up, the Wolfman stalking the city streets for an action-packed hunt, while there’s a lovely sequence at a masked ball that gives Johnston the chance to drop in his visual reference quota with marvellous, wryly amusing results.

While this may benefit from some editorial tightening, it’s nice to see a mainstream blockbuster that isn’t scared of taking it’s time with an ordered plot and engaging storyline. The cast are marvellous and we can only hope that this thinking monster movie marks a precedent after the woeful Steven Sommers excesses of previous attempts.

With the winter sleet still lashing the windows outside a relaxing break in the sun sounds pretty good about now doesn’t it? Well, here at STS we care about you pasty Morlocks, and know that not all of you have a wealthy relative with some massive pile in the country you can escape to-which is why we’d like to invite you along to Soho’s Curzon Cinema this Friday, 22nd Jan, where some charming young people would love you to join them for a few days in the country.

In a house that’s alive.

And wants to eat you.

You guessed it – it’s Midnight Movies time again, and there’s something a bit special for you up-all-night Soho ghosts-the first and only showing of Nobuhiko Obayashi’s japanese freak out Hausu! Get down to Piccadilly this Friday, enjoy a cocktail from the generous folks at Jameson’s Cult Film Club, and get in with the in crowd (and the STS staff) as good looking young people fall down wells, get choked by plughole hair, and contend with a flying, blood vomiting portrait of a kitten-and then things get really weird…

This is the only chance to see this masterpiece of wackjobbery on the big screen, and with a chance to win a whole bunch of Eureka DVD goodies and a great party to boot, you’ll need a better excuse than ‘I was fighting off a killer lampshade’ to miss it!

Book Tickets Here!

A brave new decade awaits us, and what better time for Hollywood to face the future and bring us a bright movie going tomorrow?

Not that it’ll happen of course. Yep, Back To The Future part II predicted that this will be the decade when Max Spielberg steps up to the plate with his 3D Jaws XX, but the STS magic 8-Ball tells us there’s far, far worse than that to come.

Strap on your blinkers and pretend it’s all ok – over the next week we’ll bring you a comprehensive guide to all the ‘fun’ heading your way in 2010 – duck and cover for part one of our cut-out-and-break-your-computer guide!

1: Green Hornet.

Or: Who F***ing Cares? Learning absolutely shit-all from The Spirit, Seth Rogen decides that not only is he all serious and stuff after the awful Funny People, he’s an action hero too! Yep, he sure looks the part, the tubby f***er. Nothing says exciting crime fighter like a gut in a two-piece with a lone ranger mask does it? Add to this the fact that the original series was a load of ill-plotted, rambling, unfunny oh-so-wacky-hey-kids-it’s-the-ker-azy-60’s-man garbage, and Green Hornet is all set to be the biggest turd of the summer. People who think Pineapple Express is good will love it, but that’s because they’re a bunch of morons.

2: The Hardy Men.

Apparently this has been fermenting in the brains of Tom Cruise and Ben Stiller for a while, but frankly we couldn’t even be bothered to find out what it’s about. From the title I’m going with a wacky update on the Hardy Boys, those perennial Nancy Drew pokers, but updated as a hilarious, SNL style sketch a la Starsky and Hutch. That was funny wasn’t it? Is it me or has SNL never, ever, ever produced anything even approaching an amusing sketch? We’re not saying Skit either, because only a c**t would do that.

Proof positive – if it were needed that Stiller should stick to being really, really, ridiculously good looking, and Cruise should go back to planet Mongo and fulfil L.Ron’s mighty plan. No video was available at time of press. And if there was, it would be shit.

3: Clash of The Titans.

That Terminator geezer, in a skirt, with a robot owl for company. Oh, and Greek girls in short skirts, and a bloody great monster or two. This looks like it may be acceptable.

As an aside, every ship ever named Titan, Titanic or Titania has sunk. Every single one – wooooooo spoooooky. Don’t say STS isn’t tops for movie related news!

4: A Nightmare on Elm Street.

Apparently some people are terrified by the thought of someone with quite long arms hanging around outside their house, so this was a natural for the remake treatment.

Unfortunately Jonny Depp won’t be getting his bits chopped off this time round, but it does at least leave the floor open for a remake of Part II in 2011, possibly the most homoerotic movie ever produced. Seriously, check out the clip.

This will be rubbish, and anyone who’s scared of it is a spaz.

5: Black Hole.

Alas, not a remake of the Disney thing with the robots n’ that, this Black Hole instead refers to a graphic novel featuring a sexual disease that gives those infected horrible deformities. So, severe physical handicap combined with the wit of an Ace Frehley solo album – should be a laugh riot eh? Apparently David Fincher is directing, which means he’s taking time out from his other project Heavy Metal to bring us this gumph. Bad David!

Oh – did we mention there’s worse to come? Stay tuned for part 2…

Richard Kelly’s fondness for melon-twisting puzzles knows no bounds it seems, as he sets up a preposterously accented Cameron Diaz and hunky hubby James Marsden with the classic do or die moral conundrum: Push a button and recieve one million dollars – the catch? Take it and someone, somewhere, must die…

Doctor Evil plotting aside, it’s a high concept query that could ignite a million pub arguments, Kelly wrapping the indecent proposal MacGuffin in enough stylish Sci-Fi/Horror ribbons that you can almost forgive the movie as it slides towards generic thriller territory. Bizarrely, the semi-famous Richard Matheson (of I Am Legend fame) tale suffered poor receipts in the US, possibly based more on Kelly’s shonky post-Southland Tales rep than word of mouth, as there’s much to intrigue and beguile here, filling the thriller set-up with indie stylings, zombies, postmodern philosophy and a short trip through time – Kelly is fast moving into Star Trek territory, but his commitment to the material lifts things out of the genre ghetto.

Like Donnie Darko, The Box juxtaposes the American ideal family with some all-out weirdness to often startling effect, the narrative is all over the place, but as with Darko, there are enough unifying threads that you’ll be willing to pour over the details and try to figure it all out later, rather than giving up completely a la Southland.

This gloomy visuals and clever-clever time travel can’t quite rewrite history enough to cover all the plot holes however, and it’s certainly difficult to get on-side with leads who decide that they’d knock someone off just to send their offspring to a nice college. Luckily Frank Langella appears regularly as a mutilated big bad who’s obviously completely mental, but – much like Kelly – has the conviction of his morals, making him a memorably nasty piece of work coming across like the restrained offspring of Hannibal Lecter and The Joker.

The genre-jumping and Kelly’s resolute stance against conventional movie making may upset the casual viewer, and this will certainly struggle to find a big cinema audience, although signs point to yes for a big home cult building over the next few years. In tone it’s uneven, but has enough foreboding 70’s horror overtones to make it a classy and slick change from the usual Hollywood factory-thriller.

Very much a case of Love or hate, but certainly worth seeking out.

Back in the 70’s, terror-tainment was thin on the ground, and the hilarious spider-walk was actually considered disturbing – which is probably why overrated old cobblers The Exorcist has such a huge, scary rep.

Well, it seems that even appearing in Reposessed with Leslie Nielsen wasn’t enough to kill young Regan’s demonic career, as head-spinning honcho William Peter Blatty claimed there’s definite probability that pea-soup will be sprayed directly into your living room in the near future:

“I’ve written an Exorcist miniseries script that not only faithfully includes all the main elements of the novel, but also some rather spooky new material and scenes, as well as a totally new (and perhaps much more satisfying) ending. I’ve also updated it. Billy Friedkin has agreed to direct.”

STS is actually looking forward to seeing how the original production team handle a reboot, rather than some guy who made a Skittles ad following a studio push for a PG script.

What do you think- should they mess with things man was not meant to know?

Paranormal Activity lived up to the hype. Shot for pennies by first time director Oren Peli and using a cast of three total unknows, it’s completely outdone bloated Hollywood horror franchises by being actually quite scary.

Micah and Katie are a completely normal (even normal looking, a novelty in movies these days) couple living in a nice house in San Diago. The thing is Katie is being haunted by a ‘demon’ – basically a nasty spirit that likes to torment people for fun. Deciding to document the weird happenings, Micah buys a camera and documents the whole spookshow.
Here is your wonderful lazy comparison – it’s Blair Witch in a house. The movie is presented as edited footage of the film Micha shot in the house. Hence a lot of shots from tripods and unintentional shaky hand cam – although not the nausea inducing Cloverfield type.

And it works well because the actors are so natural. The reaction of the characters to the events is wholly believable. Katie becoming increasingly scared and and angry at the happenings, where as Micah wants to take things into his own hands using technology and rationality to confront the nastiness. There are no moments where you question the actions of the characters or scream ‘don’t go in there!’ at the screen, they behave sensibly and normally, which allows you to put yourself in their shoes of the protagonists, and feel some empathy towards them, unlike the despicable future cadavers that populate most horror.

The scares are wonderfully simple. Slamming doors, noises, lights – super low budget, but effective. And he sound design is fantastic too. Deep rumbling noises signal the presence of the ‘demon’ – and in the cinema I saw it, the noises were greeted with screams and yelps – a suefire sign of job well done – when an audience are jumping out of their seat at a bass rumble something has been done right!

Paranormal Activity well deserves its internet hype. A simple, effective and genuinely spooky movie. Go see it and let Hollywood know how good horror movies can be.

It’s that super-spooky time of year again, and there’s just time to remind any readers in London town who aren’t on a ripper walk this weekend to get themselves tricked out and head down to Islington Union Chapel, where purveyors of top-notch whiskey Jamesons will be providing the treats; a series of excellently gruesome horror films for the gore-hound of distinction !

STS will be checking out Hammer classic Dracula on Thursday, and there’s also the likes of American Werewolf, The Shining and soon-to-be-cult Colin, with a director’s talk thrown in to choose from!

Best of the entire thing is free, and our generous hosts may even slip you a free nip of their fine product to calm your nerves afterwards. Check out the official site for more details

With All Hallowsmas fast approaching, studios are clamouring to promote their Horror product this week, and Nic Cage – yes, the southern, drawling Nic Cage – playing a 14th century knight in upcoming actioner Season of the Witch is certainly one of the weirder offerings scuttling from the bowels of tinseltown.

Tonally it looks fairly straight-laced, with a monstrously be-wigged Cage exorcising a woman who may be causing the Black Death, although the garish colours hint this could be treading a very tricky line between The Masque of the Red Death and Army of Darkness – no guesses which we’re rooting for.

Check out the new trailer and let us know what you think…

Nimrod Antal’s Predators finally gains some muscle this month as Friday the Thirteenth man Derek Mears joins Adrien Brody’s disparate group of mercenaries in the jungle…or does he?

Speculation is rife that the actor formerly known as ‘Raging Cannibal’ may in fact be gearing up to play an ultra-hard Command Predator, cementing the video game direction the Aliens Vs Predator began by providing a bona fide end of level boss.

With Topher Grace, Danny Trejo and Alice Braga on board, it’s certainly an interesting ensemble, but whether they’ll be able to match Arnie – or even Danny Glover – remains to be seen.

What do you think, does more equal better, or should the series go back to basics for some mano-e-alieno action? Let us know!

Christian Alvert makes a brave go at weak source material, but can’t hide the tutelage of producer Paul W.S Anderson in a poorly realised Sci-Fi mish-mash.

Deep in some generic future, life on Earth has ground to a halt, and the remaining humans are being shipped out on huge cryogenic tanker craft in search of a new start. Unfortunately Lieutenant Payton – an overly earnest Dennis Quaid – and Corporal Bower (Ben Foster) wake up a little early, and suffering from the kind of hybernation sickness that screams MacGuffin, the two haven’t a clue what they’re doing.

So far, things are promising, pointing towards what could be a paced and very grown up drama. Unfortunately it doesn’t last, with strange grumblings coming from the belly of the seemingly deserted craft. Deciding to investigate, it isn’t long before they stumble over – you guessed it – Mutant Cannibals!

While amnesiac heroes are a nice twist, the terrible MTV editing isn’t, with cameras lurching about, aiming for video game immersion but resulting in vague seasickness and confusion, as terrible beasts leap from the shadows, and every upcoming shock is clearly signposted by a hyperactive bass soundtrack.

As well as the terrible beasts, there’s Cam Gigandet’s cynical mystery man lurking in the control room, and Quaid facing off against every unlikely malfunction imaginable on his way through the bowels of the ship to the reactor.

Mistaking swamping everything in darkness for genuine atmosphere, Alvert tries to maintain our interest, but despite solid performances it’s soon knocked off kilter by the clunky dialogue and a camera that appears to have been under the control of a serial meth tweaker, leaving the audience irritated rather than involved.

A straight to DVD-er mysteriously given a fairly high profile opening, Pandorum flirts with Horror, Mystery and Sci-Fi while resolutely avoiding the most compelling elements of all three.

Zombie apocalypses may be all the rage these days, but it’s heartening to see that other cretures that go bump in the night aren’t being completely ignored. Witness the new trailer for Daybreakers, with the always value for money Sam Neil leads a particularly stellar cast fighting a Vampire plague ridden Earth.
Let’s face it-any movie with Willem DeFoe firing a crossbow at Dracula has to be worth a look right?

If you’re anything like the staff at STS, you already know that booze and movies are two of the best things in the world (The others being pizza and firearms), and it seems our friends and purveyors of fine purepot still Irish Whiskey Jameson’s agree, and to prove it, they’re putting their money where their mouths are (and their Whiskey where our mouths are) with a series of fantastic cult film showings in some unique venues around London as part of the Jameson’s Cult Film Club.

Now in it’s second year, the Cult Film Club uses the screening to project the audience into the film’s world, which means the chance to watch some awesome films in venues specially selected and redesigned for the show.

Things kick off –possibly quite literally – with the excellent Trainspotting tomorrow night at the Village Underground in Shoreditch, EC2A. STS will be there rolling around looking like Begby, and if you haven’t seen that toilet scene on the big screen then it’s an opportunity you shouldn’t miss.

And of course, with All Hallows Eve fast approaching, there’ll be the chance to check out some excellent horror classics at Islington Union Chapel, N1 during the run-up to Halloween. Movies on show in this excellently spooky setting include American Werewolf in London, Hammer’s superlative 1958 Dracula and the ubiquitous -but no less ace –Halloween.

Further events will be on throughout the year and we’ll be checking out as many as possible, so get involved here and get your asses down to EC2 tomorrow night!

While the Zombie genre is fast becoming overloaded, first time helmer Ruben Fleisher has an ace up his sleeve – he couldn’t care less. While writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick have produced a sharp, funny -and most importantly genre-savvy – script, they pull off the clever trick of ramming metadialogue into a post-apocalyptic world that brings absolutely nothing new to the table. There are no knowing nods to the camera, no attempt to make the Zombies unique, they’re your basic, shuffling, brain-munching simpletons, wobbling mindlessly around the Midwest – and latterly, Beverly Hills – and generally annoying our heroes as they casually subvert the romantic comedy road movie for all it’s worth.

Jesse Eisenberg is the first survivor to appear on screen, and he’s in fine form as he relays his nerdy rules for staying alive, including such gems as “cardio- the fatties were the first to go because they were easier to catch”.

Eisenberg comes off like a young Woody Allen for the first act, hooking up with ex-House Bunny Emma Stone and her young sister – an adorably murderous Abigail Breslin – on a quest to California in search of a Zombie-free paradise. While it’s amusing enough in its own right, the nebbishness starts to run out of gas fairly quickly, leaving you unsure where this is heading.

Then Woody Harrelson turns up.

The role of dedicated Zombie killer Tallahassee appears to have been custom written for him, and he revels in it, playing a sort of dim-but-good-natured good ol’ boy – think Woody from Cheers meets The Terminator – a gun toting maniac with a decent helping of common sense; his expression as Stone tells him “There’s no Zombies in California” is worth the admission price alone.

Fleisher shows some fantastic comedy timing as the methods of dispatching the undead become increasingly creative – the piano dropped on head being particularly noteworthy – and the cinematography alternates between some fantastic Evil Dead handheld, transforming one bull in a souvenir shop sequence into a frantic piece of comedy gold, while some truly unsettling desert vistas accomplish everything Resident Evil aspired to in an instant, actually adding some poignant notes to the carnage and laughs.

Overall it’s a great, quick witted hour and a half of comedy violence, not afraid to alternate between puerile and dark, dry humour, it never comes off as unbalanced. A great, shocking ride that’s been done before, but never quite like this.

It used to be cats in cupboards providing the shocks, but as this compilation from the guys at 2Whoa.com shows, these days not being able to remotely update your Twitter is a far more serious threat!

“I knew It! I’m surrounded by assholes!” Wise words indeed as Gunner’s Mate, First Class Phillip J. Asshole (Recently promoted by his cousin Major Asshole) confirms Dark Helmet’s deepest fears in that classic piece of modern cinema, Spaceballs. But the asshole isn’t just a comedy device by any means.

Think of any movie -which character really stays with you? The Hero? Nah, too goody-goody. Sure some are memorable, but it’s mainly when they behave like pricks, throwing people off buildings and slapping them around in the name of justice that we really like them. How about the villain? Yeah yeah, Darth was imposing enough, and The Terminator is a stone cold killer, but did they bring anything new to the table? The one thing guaranteed to elevate these two dimensional stereotypes above the pack is the pithy one-liner, the sneering self confidence to do what the other guy won’t, and to hell with what anyone thinks.

In short, being a dick.

In art, as in life, behaving like a real shit rules rules, which is why STS decided to weed out the greatest gits in cinematic history and leave their cheese out in the wind (tm Mr. Rooney -Ferris Bueller’s day off). Yep, it’s Six of The Best: Movie Assholes!

Chuck De Nomolos -Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey.

Chuck hates Heavy Metal. That alone more than qualifies him for this list, but if we dig deeper, we quickly uncover a rich seam of douchebaggery that means he’s not just the 23rd century’s champion sit-upper, he’s also it’s top dick biscuit. As portrayed by Josh Ackland, he’s a borderline Nazi who’s in it for the leather uniforms more than that whole political thing, but that doesn’t mean he won’t kill to enforce his goose-stepping fantasies. Not only does he build a version of Bill S.Preston Esq. who’s actually a dick, he enjoys being wedgied, wears moonboots, and is so piss-on-everyone-else’s-party heinous that even the spiritually aware Big Jim Martin can only find one way to describe him: “What a shithead”.

Phil Stuckey – Pretty Woman.

For starter’s, he’s George Kastanza suffering from an almighty case of short-man syndrome. Stuckey isn’t just shaped like an egg, he’s oily, greasy and raises just as much of a stink when his be-a-cock-first-ask-question-later attitude gets him in Julia Robert’s bad books. Flaunting his cash and his sexist idiocy for all to see, he’s a lawyer but still manages to be the definition of investment banker wanker, Stuckey is so odious he even manages to make Richard Gere appear charming.

Bill Lumbergh – Office Space

Bill sports the type of all-American ‘do that makes you want to vomit at a hundred paces, micromanaging his way onto the kill-lists of everyone else in the office, Bill’s a power mad small fry who loves to watch 9-5ers wiggle, pinning them ruthlessly into extra hours with his clone-bank smile and ‘Hey, it’s my job, sorry’ attitude. Anyone who’s ever worked in an office will feel their hackles rise the moment he hit’s the screen, a cold-skinned middle-management fish that actually believes his job is important, sporting the kind of Argyle-clad junior exec look would make Val Doonican blush. What a tit.

Chet Donnely -Weird Science.

Bill Paxton has turned being a jerk into something of an artform over the years, but however many ‘True Lies’ he appears in, he’ll never quite top this early effort. Chet’s a bug-eyed moron with a haircut that cuts straight to the chase; He’s an asshole. Putting his younger, weaker brother in headlocks and extorting cash is only the beginning for a man who thinks combats tightly laced into boots is a decent look. Obsessing over guns, doling out wedgies with the homoerotic fervour of Jock culture, talking with his mouth full and tattling to the parents at every opportunity, Chet’s the definitive Jock Cock. He’s such a bellend he actually thinks this is impressive too, trying to chat up the way-out-of-his-league Kelly LeBrock by offering to ‘Butter Her Muffin’. He’s a charmer is our Chet, which is why it’s so satisfying seeing him turned into a fly-gobbling turd/frog hybrid.

Walter Peck -Ghostbusters.

William Atherton has a nice sideline in movie assholes, and a special mention should go to his odious performance in Die Hard, but those performances all spring from one almighty well of dick. Walter Peck is a pencil pushing noseybeak with nothing to prove apart from his own petty, paper-based superiority. The next time Ghostbusters is on TV, watch closely. Peck doesn’t blink. Not once in his entire time on screen. He’s not just a bureaucratic pain in the ass, he’s a reptile. A cold blooded, limp wristed power player who takes his self-loathing out on anyone and anything. You’d think being covered in steaming-hot demono-mallow would be punishment enough, but such are the heights of turdishness reached by this character, the public didn’t think so, with the “actually a really nice bloke” Atherton having to stay out of bars for years afterward – because patrons kept starting fights with him. It’s true your honour. This man has no dick.

Carter Burke – Aliens.

Wanting to advance your career is one thing, but willing to murder thousands of innocent farmers to do it? Proving that there is such a thing as being overly ambitious, Paul Reiser utterly destroys any fond memory you may have of ‘Sensible dad’ Michael from My Two Dads, replacing them with a smarmy, hidden-behind-a-desk performance that isn’t so much magnificent as malformed. Burke orders colonists into danger zones, sabotages marine missions, tries to impregnate a child with a facehugger and always, always keeps one eye on the cash register. He sympathises of course -it’s a ‘real shame’ that so many people had to be exploded/melted with acid/eaten from the inside out, but hey, the profit justifies the means right? A godawful space yuppie vampire, it’s all the more satisfying when he’s finally hoisted by his own petard, which in this case happens to be 8 foot tall and have nasty big pointy teeth. A lesson to corporate shills across the galaxy. Game over man.

So there you have it-the gamut of douchebaggery -have we missed any? There’s certainly more than one cock in Die Hard, and the 80s in particular are crawling with pin-stripe suited dillweeds. Your favourite hate figure not here? Tell us!