Category Archives: List Candidates

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: DEMONIA (1990)

366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Meg Register, Brett Halsey, Lucio Fulci, Lino Salemme

PLOT: An archeological dig unleashes vengeful ghosts. Still from Demonia (1990) WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: It’s a matter of balance with Fulci: do the weird parts outweigh the boring parts? Consider Un Chien Andalou. That movie has a razor blade slicing an eyeball. Fulci (famous eye assassin, apparently settling a score from childhood where optometrists beat him and took his lunch money) has a cat jump up onto a woman’s face and chomp her eyeball out and eat it, amid a screaming swarm of clawing kitties. This, in a film that would play well next to a ade, complete with otherworldly dream logic and characters that act like anything but normal human beings with brains. Fulci is oft-capsuled in our pages, but never listed. One Fulci madhouse or another should ultimately claim the throne of weirdest, and we just as well might pick this one, if not The Beyond.

COMMENTS: Demonia is chock full of images you don’t see everyday. Fulci outdoes himself in his notoriously over-the-top death scenes. One notable flashback has a nun collect a fresh-born baby swaddled in blankets and then unceremoniously toss it into a flaming altar to burn. In a super-imposed effects shot, we see the baby’s arm amid crackling flames sticking out of the blankets as it uncurls its fist into a very distinct middle finger salute. So, there’s no shortage of off-the-wall death scenes. You could also pick the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scene where a naked cultist nun ghost materializes brandishing a ghost-harpoon-gun, only to fire a very physical harpoon into some guy’s gut and quickly vanish.

The trouble with this title is the parts between the deaths: talky, boring, slow-paced, sloppily written. Fulci released Cat in the Brain, a parody with the director playing himself as a director who gets Hollywood hallucination fits after his sanity is taxed by directing endless gore scenes (a plot ripped off in Evil Ed) in the same year. Just sayin’. Fulci wasn’t exactly swinging for the pro leagues in 1990. In Demonia, Fulci is so low-effort between gore scenes that he might as well carry around a margarita to sip as he plays a police inspector who fruitlessly tries to solve these ghost murders.

What holds this movie back and divides Fulci fans? The acting is atrocious all around, the characters make no sense and are all dumb as cheese, the dialog is flat, the plot might as well be steered by dartboard, the low budget production makes everything look cheap and dirty, and Fulci phones in a performance of himself phoning it in. The first half hour’s slow pace almost kills it, but this is largely just set-up for characters that will later die to the ghost-nun rampage like so many roaches writhing in bug spray fumes. The second two-thirds grinds to the film’s advantage as the craziness starts to pile up. How many ways can we kill a person? How about tie this guy’s legs to two different trees so when you trigger the trap, they split him in two? The non-murder parts also have quirky details worth mentioning, Continue reading APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: DEMONIA (1990) →

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: SCARLET WARNING 666 (1974)

AKA It Happened One Weekend; It Happened on Sunday; Scarlet Love; Love Is Deep Inside; Rockey’s Style (?); Scarlet Love 666

366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

Beware

 

DIRECTED BY: Palmer Rockey

FEATURING: Palmer Rockey

PLOT: A detective, and his twin, investigate the murder of their sister at the hands of a money-worshiping cult.

Still from Scarlet Warning 666 (1974)

 

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: The eccentric Palmer Rockey exhibits a complete failure to communicate his intentions with the baffling Scarlet Warning 666. Is it a legitimate attempt at an occult thriller, an arty anthem of nonconformity, an avant-garde meta-movie spoof, or just an excuse to cast himself in awkward sex scenes with buxom women? You’ll have no idea. File it with After Last Season as one of those mysterious objects you can’t believe actually exists.

COMMENTS: Bruce (the good twin) is walking in the park, as he often does when investigating the death of his sister Jackie. Spread out on a yellow napkin, he discovers flowers and feathers covered in sticky stage blood. A clue? But what about the swinging knife? The pirate hat perched on the coffin? The totemic feathered rattle? The spinning plastic skull lit by a flashlight? The belly dancer? The silent topless woman with big “pineapples”? All clues?

No, the movie does not have a clue. This impenetrable mystery is the magnum opus of one Palmer Rockey. Rockey was not an idiot. He was an army veteran and, surprisingly, he had a Ph.D. and had translated theology books into German. He was also a huckster, a womanizer, and some kind of sui generis madman. The opening of the film brags that Rockey plays 54 different roles—7 in front of the camera, and 47 behind it—but on screen, there are only 2 or 3 (it is often near-impossible to distinguish which character he is portraying). The film did, apparently, did go under 7 different titles, however. After its disastrous reception after its four-walled debut, a devastated but defiant Rockey further tinkered with his masterpiece for two decades, adding narration and reshooting scenes (removing his ex-wife Cookie, the former female lead, whenever possible). He incorporates footage from a student film he shot in the 50s, which is positioned as a nightmare/flashback and has nothing whatsoever to do with the later scenes. Knowing that Rockey added exposition throughout the years in an attempt to make the plot more comprehensible makes you wonder how puzzling the original must have been. His later narration is particularly bizarre, as he engages in dialogue with a falsetto version of himself discussing the movie’s genius, but also disparaging his own actors and deflecting criticism by claiming that the entire movie is a satire of some kind.

If you like bad acting backed by bad singing (also courtesy of Rockey, naturally), mismatched film stocks, continuity errors, characters who appear without being introduced, randomly edited footage, and jarring sound edits, have I got the movie for you! Despite the added exposition, I doubt the film’s plot can be reconstructed even by the most dedicated scholars. There is an artistic intent here—Rockey depicts himself as a little guy, a nonconformist fighting an evil, greedy cabal—but it’s essentially undecipherable. We will simply note that it all ends on a bare stage with blue walls and a blue floor, which is either the site of a cult ritual or a symbolic psychodrama. A shirtless Rockey poses in front of spinning yellow wheel of justice while impassive bikini-clad women stand around in the background, and later spin in a circle dance. It segues into some kind of trial, followed by an action sequence of some variety with wrestling, gunplay, and a surprise twist reveal. All acted out in front of an idol of a plywood eagle inscribed in magic marker with a dollar sign. And as the credits roll, the audience leaves none the wiser as to what just went on.

Scarlet Warning 666 (or whatever name the movie was known by) was lost for years, whispered about by and a few lucky others who caught it at its Dallas premiere. The flame was kept burning by obscure record collectors, who treasured Rockey’s supremely awful lounge-rockabilly soundtrack, and wondered in vain about the movie that had inspired such a bizarre artifact. Grindhouse Releasing actually tracked down a copy of the current version of the film and, in 2026, finally put out a Blu-ray for the first time, so everyone could see this astounding monument to one man’s misplaced egotism. The release is filled with interviews, including fans Stang and Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra, alongside contemporaneous witnesses like Rockey’s ex-wife Cookie and actor Ron DeSilva. But the portrait that emerges of the mysterious Rockey remains as inexplicable as Scarlet Warning 666‘s occult plot. The film, and the man, remain oddities of the weirdest stripe.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a study of storytelling madness that will either test the patience of even the most adventurous cult film explorer or make them dizzy with delight…  if one can make it past the first ten minutes of the film, there’s a chance for some fun to be had, with the movie gradually becoming an alt-universe ‘Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me’ as Rockey attempts to mix vanity, inscrutability, and desperation into a single offering of cinematic puzzling.”–Brian Orndoff, Blu-ray.com (Blu-ray)

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

Palmer Rockey's Scarlet Warning 666

  • Move over, Ed Wood and Tommy Wiseau. Stupefying, incomprehensible, and utterly insane, SCARLET WARNING 666 goes beyond THE ROOM and PLAN 9.

List Price : 49.95 $

Offer: 33.32 $

Go to Amazon

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: L’INTRUS [THE INTRUDER] (2004)

366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

DIRECTED BY: Claire Denis

FEATURING: Michel Subor, , Katerina Golubeva, Bambou, Béatrice Dalle

PLOT: Having received a new heart via transplant, a man reassesses his priorities and goes in search of rapprochement with his estranged son.

Still from L'Intrus (2004)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Claire Denis crafts a film that may be entirely metaphorical. Under the pretense of narrative, she links together a series of scenes that are best explained as analogues for the brain’s capacity to remember past events and to imagine future ones, often imperfectly. You can’t believe anything you see in L’intrus, and everything in L’intrus is true.

COMMENTS: Sometimes a film will have its script credited as “inspired by” some other work, often as a ploy to forestall the payment of rights and residuals. However, the term could not be better suited to describe the way this film is informed by the memoir/philosophical treatise of the same name that Jean-Luc Nancy penned about his own heart transplant and the subsequent dissociation he felt from his own body. Claire Denis crafts characters and situations that have no connection to the philosopher: Nancy never kept a string of lovers in the frozen tundra, or abandoned a son he had fathered in French Polynesia, or killed a man in cold blood. Yet our hero Louis seems to be living out the emotional experiences that Nancy encountered. Truly, she was inspired.

We know that Louis is facing a health crisis, one that necessitates the acquisition of a new heart. His circumstances are such that not only can he get it without difficulty, but he’s in a position to make demands. “I want a young heart,” he tells his organ broker. “Not an old man’s heart, or a woman’s heart.” It’s the arrogant proclamation of the rich, knowing he can get anything he wants and uninterested in who might suffer as a consequence. Up to this point, Louis lives a charmed life, residing in the mountains with a mistress, a pair of loyal dogs, and not a care in the world. His new heart will not only upend his existence, but shatter his confidence. Much of L’intrus is committed to watching his sense of control and certainty steadily unravel. Maybe you can have it all, but you rarely can keep it.

Denis teases us with genre expectations. When Louis visits a Swiss bank to obtain the money for his operation, we’re inclined to think that he’s some sort of retired secret agent or assassin putting his illicit earnings to work, but the film provides no evidence for that scenario, and the brush with “spy thriller” soon gives way to another mood. Louis’ quest to reconnect with his lost son feels like it will head to a meeting of tremendous importance, but Denis has no interest in such melodramatics. There’s reason to believe that Louis is confronted with a horrible twist at film’s end, but given all we’ve seen, this could easily just be a visual metaphor for the guilt he feels, or a flash-forward to an event that ties together two characters who have stayed far apart, or simply a dreaded outcome given form. We’ll never know for sure, and the feeling is the point, anyway.

What’s most unsettling, the thing that makes the ground so unsteady for the viewer, is that Denis uses the language of film in service of a presentation that intends to do none of the things that we expect a film narrative to do. We’re used to unreliable narrators and visualizations of things that never happened, but Denis provides no guide to help us sort one from another. We are familiar with nonlinear narratives, but we usually count on signifiers to help us work out the chronology in our own heads. We even understand the tricky nature of the Kuleshov effect—using edits to put two scenes together in a kind of shared meaning. Denis uses that technique as a cudgel to shame us out of our assumptions, following a lengthy scene of a grave being dug with a shot of the expected corpse recuperating in a hospital. We don’t have names (the dogsledder played by Dalle is identified in the credits as “The Queen of the Northern Hemisphere”), we don’t have places so much as climates, and we have so little dialogue that every word becomes laden with meaning. Denis is not here to play ball with us, and she makes sure we know it.

Even if you are familiar with Denis’ penchant for obscuring meaning, L’intrus is an impressively opaque work. It also happens to be a strikingly beautiful movie. Cinematographer Agnès Godard captures the exotic beauty of Tahiti, but she also finds character in a South Korean ship foundry or a remote border crossing. Faces look remarkable, too, especially that of Subor, whose handsome aged looks remain striking even when prone in bed running his fingers along the fresh transplant scar on his chest. The majestic professionalism of the production only enhances the sense of disassociation: how can you look at something so immaculately conceived and not be able to figure out what’s going on? You can, though, and Denis seems to think that you should. Maybe to recognize that fact, what you need is a whole new heart.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a weird groundbreaking otherworldly film that breaks down borders in a post-colonial realpolitik (merging the northern and southern hemispheres) and cinematic way (similar to Jean-Luc Godard’s blend of non-linear narrative into a dreamlike tale to try and reinvent cinema).” – Dennis Schwartz, Dennis Schwartz Movie Reviews

(This movie was nominated for review by russa03. Then eight years later, Cliff Williams nominated it anew. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)    

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: THE THINGY: CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE PLACENTA (2013)

AKA The Miracle of Life

Weirdest!

 366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

DIRECTED BY: Joël Rabijns, Yves Sondermeier

FEATURING: Pascal Maetens, Karel Vingerhoets, Celine Verbeeck

PLOT: Marianne loses her child at birth but the placenta miraculously lives, is named and baptized, and grows up to endure scorn and loneliness.

Still from The Thingy: Confessions of a Teenage Placenta (2013)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: When trying to describe Thingy, you inevitably think of Basket Case, but in doing so you miss the mile-wide streak of pathos that this movie feels for its grotesque hero. Here is a film that dares to place an oozing lump of Silly Putty at its center, and insists on presenting it as a cautionary tale about intolerance. The film sees the obvious joke of this ridiculous premise, but forces you to view it through the saddest possible lens.

COMMENTS: Whenever you think life is handing you the short end of the stick, poor Luke is here to assure you that it could be so, so much worse. Just being a teenager is difficult enough, what with having to navigate the land mines of high school hierarchies, recognizing your elders for the flawed human beings they are, and trying to get a sense of your own personality. It’s infinitely more complicated to look in the mirror and see, looking back at you, an unholy mashup of Grimace, tandoori chicken, and a Pink Pearl eraser.

You could easily be misled by the title into thinking that this is a wild romp through the fields of giddy indecency. It’s a marketing ploy suggesting a level of camp and silliness appropriate to the label. But Luke is never addressed by the title’s demeaning sobriquet, and he never confesses to anything. Curiously enough, the sensationalist approach lends the film a certain credibility, because despite the creepy extremism of the scenario, this is a painfully serious film, a sympathetic plea for tolerance for all the sentient birth membranes out there whom society treats appallingly.

If ever a character manifested his own disappointment into existence, Luke is that hero. He has just one eye, uses what remains of the umbilical cord as his only limb, relies on a toy jeep to get around, and he speaks with a sad, resigned voice that can only be described as Flemish (the actual actor goes uncredited). He’s utterly ridiculous, which is the cue for Rabijns and Sondermeier to keep putting him in the most normal of situations and watching as he completely fails to fit in. At school, at home, at work (as a front-of-the-house order taker at a fast food joint notably called “Hamburger Holocaust”): everywhere Luke goes he meets with derision. It’s just drawn to him, as it would be. He is truly a sad sack.

Even if the movie didn’t have Luke, it still has a collection of parts just as unusual, just as disturbing. Leading the pack is Luke’s mother Marianne, played for no obvious reason by male actor Maetens. She isn’t played for laughs or irony or even to make a point. In fact, the casting becomes completely irrelevant once Marianne fully gives in to her work-out addiction, which consists of exclusively building the muscle of her right arm to ‘roided extremes. (Why only one arm? She explains: “I get what I want with only half the work.”) Less showy but equally strange is Father Gritty, the priest who magnanimously grants the little lump the rites of baptism. It initially feels like a gesture of supreme grace, but it starts to seem like he has no other parishioners, and the man of the cloth has a peculiar interest in his godson’s growth, eagerly asking for details about the legs of a girl Luke is sweet on. Plus, there’s the overall sense that everyone in the film is committed to the fact of Luke’s existence, but equally as certain that he will endure nothing but scorn. The Thingy has the feel of a Weekly World News article transformed into an ABC Afterschool Special.

The Thingy feels peculiarly American, a strange sensation given that this Belgian production barely tries to hide its accents. It’s tempting to look for some trace of satire: the sensationalized news perpetually running on TV, the familiarity of the class-conscious high school, the fact that Marianne has been passing Luke’s father off as having been fighting in Vietnam for seemingly years… it all of it points to a strangely cartoonish view of the States. Even so, the film seemingly has no axes to grind. In fact, it’s only in its final scenes that the movie loses the sheen of its strangeness by descending into an orgy of nihilistic violence. Only here, in pursuit of its final tragic punchline, do the filmmakers run out of story and decide to punctuate the climax with a series of horrible acts. If The Thingy falls apart just short of the finish line, the fact is it remains a singular work, creating an unthinkable situation and treating it with the gravity, sincerity, and honesty that it demands. Poor Luke. There but for the grace of God go you and I.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“There’s one thing The Thingy: Confessions of a Teenage Placenta is for certain … and that’s weird… this film is less spectacle and more beyond spectacle – which is quite a feat and results in a very unusual movie!” – Mike Haberfelner, (re)Search My Trash

(This movie was nominated for review by peter mckain. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.) 

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average

The Thingy: Confessions Of A Teenage Placenta (Blu-ray)

  • The Thingy: Confessions of A Teenage Placenta

New starting from: 14.95 $

Go to Amazon

APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: CASSHERN (2004)

366 Weird Movies may earn commissions from purchases made through product links.

DIRECTED BY: Kazuaki Kiriya

FEATURING: , , , Kanako Higuchi, Fumiyo Kohinata, Toshiaki Karasawa

PLOT: Dr. Azuma uses experimental cell-regrowth technology to resurrect his son Tetsuya, transforming him into a reluctant superhero and inadvertently creating a group of rebellious new humanoids who are prepared to destroy all of humanity.

Still from Casshern (2004)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Ambitious to a fault, Casshern is glorious excess, ricocheting from elaborate action sequence to moody introspection and back again, all against one ornately decorated backdrop after another. Even in its most intimate moments, this is a film that aims big: in plot, in look, in performance.

COMMENTS: The year was 2004, and the digital backdrop was ready to make a splash. A quartet of films offered an early look at the green-screen extravaganza that would come to dominate the cineplex, each one of them in their own way showing a path to the future. One of them, Able Edwards, looks exactly like its $30,000 budget. Immortal captured our attention by emphasizing weird flourishes. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow opted for star power, plopping some of Hollywood’s biggest names in front of glorious sepia-toned Art Deco images and directly into the heart of one of the most boring movies ever projected. And then there’s Casshern, Japan’s entry in the digital sweepstakes and probably the film that best augurs the current state of the movies; creating a fusion of intense action, elaborately appointed CGI landscapes, and liberal doses of operatic philosophical discussions conducted with aching intensity. Each, in their own way, led us to “The Mandalorian.”

Casshern has so much plot. It’s adapted from a 1973 anime series and absolutely feels like it, with volumes of backstory condensed into short bursts amidst the action and impassioned reflection. For most films, the showdown between humanity and the new creatures it has unintentionally Frankenstein-ed into existence would be conflict enough. Shellshocked Tetsuya finds an appropriately flamboyant opponent in Burai, the white-haired leader of the Neo-Sapien revolution.The history here, however, just keeps going back and back: to Tetsuya’s father as the inventor of neo-cells, to the intractable war between the two great powers, to the coverup of the true origin of humanity. Sometimes, Casshern has so much it wants to explain that it feels like it’s retconning itself in real time.

It’s all very, very serious. Tetsuya and love-of-his-life Luna can barely take a moment for themselves without reckoning with all they have lost. The various powers manipulating the situation from behind the scenes are too bureaucratic and officious to waste a moment on mustache-twirling. Even Burai and his grand pronouncements of world destruction are weighted with pain and vengeance. You would think that dressing themselves in fabulous supervillain gear, donning a logo that looks like the Nazis co-opted a 45 rpm adapter, and stumbling with unbelievable serendipity into an old factory for constructing killer robots would merit at least a moment of wry acknowledgement. But no, there’s not a smile to be found.

Music-video veteran Kiriya puts together some spectacular set pieces, including a tense escape from a laboratory under heavy fire and an exciting sword duel on the grounds of a decimated city. He’s always careful to keep the story rooted in philosophical quandary, though, which means the film is wildly inconsistent in tone and pace. (Shiro Sagisu’s score, which often feels wildly out of sync with what’s happening on the screen, doesn’t not help.) What’s most curious about this mix of moods is that everything feels essential, but mismatched, as if two different takes on the same material had been stitched together. A North American edit supposedly tightens up the more philosophical sections (and reportedly makes the story less comprehensible in the process), but it’s hard to see how that would help. For all the introspective diversions, “too slow” really isn’t one of Casshern’s problems.

For a superhero film that, for its look and its weight, could sit comfortably alongside any number of MCU and DCU entries, Casshern is not particularly fun, but it is fascinating. If you wanted to show how an anime could become live action, this would be a strong point of comparison. If you wanted to demonstrate the full potential of digital set design to create impossible worlds, this film opens the door. If you just want to embellish familiar sci-fi settings with a layer of existential dread, this definitely does the trick. All these things and more are possible. However, you just might want to decide which of those things you want the most.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“… so stunning and strange to behold, saturating the screen with such rococo detail, that it is impossible to believe it was made for under 6 million US dollars… Casshern really does represent a spectacularly stylised mutation of the way we look at the world of war.” – Anton Bitel, Projected Figures

(This movie was nominated for review by Andrew Milne, who called it “utterly inscrutable and deliciously mad.” Andrew also recommended it to Tim Brayton at Alternate Ending, who got to his review long before we got to ours. Well played, Tim. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)   

I think this movie is weirder than average
I think this movie is better than average