Category Archives: Capsules

CAPSULE: THE LIVING DEAD GIRL (1982)

La morte vivante

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: , Françoise Blanchard

PLOT: Summoned home by the familiar strains of a music box, Hélène finds her deceased best friend transformed into a blood-thirsty revenant.

Still from The Living Dead Girl (1982)

COMMENTS: Abandoning the laissez-faire surrealism of his 1970s films, Rollin entered the ’80s with a more traditional, blood-soaked horror effort. Living Dead Girl boasts a more straightforward and coherent plot than many Rollin movies, with one gory set-piece after another. The script minimizes his usual wordy exposition on the existential quandaries of the vampiric condition, allowing the drama between the two leads to unfold amidst plentiful killings. There’s nothing especially weird about this one, but it may appeal to fans of low budget ’80s horror.

Catherine Valmont (Blanchard), the scion of an aristocratic family, comes back to life when a minor earthquake spills the toxic waste that some unscrupulous corporation has been hiding in her family crypt. When the men disposing of the chemical barrels decide to rob her tomb, they get more than they bargained for as she rises from her coffin. At first, Catherine seems almost zombie-like, murdering indiscriminately without knowing why she’s compelled to do so. As she returns to her family’s ancestral chateau, she gradually recovers memories, including of her childhood friend, Hélène (Pierro).

Unlike most Rollin films, this pair of female protagonists have a backstory, which adds a surprising degree of emotional depth as the narrative builds towards an agonizing climax. Catherine and Hélène swore an oath to be blood sisters as children, including a promise to follow each other even in death. A music box symbolizes this promise. Catherine’s ability to play it for Hélène, even in her undead condition, reinforces the bond between them.

Quickly realizing that Catherine needs human blood to remain in a living state, Hélène progresses from unwilling accomplice to determined murderer in her desperation to keep Catherine “alive.” As their relationship pivots, a side plot emerges involving an obnoxious American tourist who’s convinced something strange is going on in the old chateau. A typical nosy photographer stock character, as seen in many American horror films from the 1930s-40s, but at least in this case she gets what’s coming to her.

Philipe D’Aram, the composer for Rollin’s Fascination, returns with an uninspired synth-inflected score that does nothing but accentuate the sparseness of the story. Though the kills keep coming, with plenty of gratuitous blood and nudity, the overall pacing is slow, dragged out by unnecessary scenes of local color. Living Dead Girl lacks Rollin’s typical dreaminess but still has moments of startling beauty. Its strength lies in the performances of Pierro and Blanchard. Thanks to their intensity, this is one of Rollin’s most strangely moving films, with a searingly unforgettable final scene.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…one of [Rollin’s] most lyrical and haunting achievements… the film never releases its grasp on the viewer’s imagination and conjures up a strange fairy tale ambiance…”–Nathaniel Thompson, Mondo Digital (UHD release)

 

The Living Dead Girl (US Limited Edition 4K UHD)

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CAPSULE: IRON LUNG (2026)

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DIRECTED BY: Mark Fischbach

FEATURING: Mark Fischbach

PLOT: In the far future, when humanity is dying off, a convict is sent to the bottom of an ocean of blood on a distant moon in search of… something or other.

Still from iron lung (2026)

COMMENTS: If you’ve heard the rags-to-riches DIY success story of the fan video game adaptation Iron Lung, which played in 4,160 theaters worldwide in early 2026 based purely on a grassroots campaign where fans of YouTuber-turned-feature-film-director markiplier (Mark Fischback) begged cinemas to show it on the big screen, and are wondering whether the non-initiate will enjoy this, my answer is a firm “no.” While the film is a phenomenal success story on its own terms, it was made for a narrow niche audience, and unless you’ve played the video game or count yourself among markiplier’s 38 million YouTube channel subscribers, you ain’t it.

At least 90% of Iron Lung takes place inside a cramped submarine the size of a living room, crowded with metal apparatus and sensors. Convict pilot Simon (Fischback) is alone for almost the entire film, with occasional conversations over intercoms with bad connections to break his solitude. The craft is rickety, has no portals to see the outside world (which would just be a wall of opaque red anyway), has frequent blood leaks, and lunches a lot. You get to know every sharp corner and blinking light in the sub in the film’s 2-hour runtime; you almost feel like you could pilot this tub yourself. The detailed set conveys the feeling of a metal prison, and the sound design is superlative: drips, scrapes, static, echoes, thumps, all sorts of dreadful alarming noises to remind you that you are in a tin can surrounded by certain death. Based on the editing in the climax, I think that Fischback could direct a thrilling action scene—assuming you knew who, what, and where the antagonist was and what the hell was going on.

But as impressive as the film’s technicals may be, the script is simultaneously boring and confusing. I mentioned that the film was 2 hours long, and it makes sure you feel every minute. Reports suggest the game itself can be finished in under and hour—an hour and a half if you dwaddle—so there is a lot of padding added here to convey the combination of tedium and dread the protagonist would experience. Watching the movie, you get the sense that the game is nothing but a long test of your ability to press buttons, flip switches, and turn knobs, because this mostly what Fischback does on screen. There is a part where he accidentally irradiates some of his handlers, which has no payoff. There is a tormented personal backstory delivered in monologue, meant to humanize the an anonymous explorer. But mainly, it’s Fischback flipping switches, turning knobs, and bemoaning his fate.

The mystery of this abandoned moon is where the film’s claim to weirdness comes from. The premise itself is absurd: supposedly all the stars and planets have suddenly disappeared except for a single moon with an ocean of blood. Although the technology here comes from hard science fiction, the scenario is entirely mystical. The ocean floor contains mysterious artifacts (which I won’t spoil) and something that might be an entity—or, it could all be an oxygen-deprivation hallucination. There is some body horror, some monstrous visions, a blood-soaked cosmic climax, and no clear resolution. The lack of explanations would not be a problem if we cared about the protagonist in more than a theoretical sense, but it’s hard to become engaged with the convict’s plight. We root for humanity to survive more out of a sense of general obligation to the species than because the movie has caused us to care about this particular band of plucky survivors. So, in short: play the game first. If you want more, see the movie. Don’t reverse the process.

Iron Lung is currently available for rental or purchase solely on YouTube.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“It’s slow, weird, and draining in a way that feels oddly beautiful.”–Roberto Tyler Ortiz, Geek Vibes Nation (contemporaneous)

(This movie was nominated for review by “Anonymous,” who suggested it “[h]as enough questions about what f***ed up stuff we’re seeing is real or not, and ends with one of the goriest climaxes in all of film with a battle with a sentient ocean of radioactive human blood..” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: ALLEGRO (2005)

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DIRECTED BY: Christoffer Boe

FEATURING: , Helena Christensen, Henning Moritzen

PLOT: An acclaimed pianist returns to Copenhagen in response to the appearance of an impassable no-man’s land that was created when the musician broke up with his girlfriend a decade prior.

Still from Allegro (2005)

COMMENTS: Allegro is a musical term, an instruction to performers to maintain a fast and bright tempo in the range of 120-156 beats per minute. The first movement of Vivaldi’s “Spring” is allegro, as is “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” by Mozart. (Also at allegro tempo: this.) It establishes a bright, bouncy feel, and while allegro tunes don’t have to be happy, there’s something wickedly perverse about lending the term to the title of this slow, methodical look at a musical artist who has removed all flair and personality from his performances, and indeed from himself. Surely “Adagio” was sitting right there.

Writer/director Boe hints at the outset that we’re about to be treated to a modern fairy tale. Through recurring sketchbook-style animation, we learn about the early life of our hero, an aspiring concert pianist we will only know by his last name, Zetterstrøm, who grows up to become a technically perfect but emotionally flat musician. This seems like it might change when he has a charming meet-cute with a lovely woman named Andrea. They progress to a relationship, despite his clear reservations, and his wariness seems justified when they break up a while later because of his commitment to his career. Leaving Andrea behind, he becomes a performer whose interpretations hit all their marks perfectly but are devoid of emotional engagement. He is so completely devoted to the purity of his work and so determined to extricate any trace of personality that he does Glenn Gould one better by refusing to be seen as he performs. As one music expert tells us, “He is an excellent pianist, technically… but where is his passion?”

Turns out his passion is in Denmark. I mean, that’s literally where he has deposited all of the distracting impulses that he has purged from his system because they harsh his chill. What Zetterstrøm has done, unbeknownst to him, is compartmentalize all his memories and feelings of the intense relationship into a section of Copenhagen that becomes a closed-off, inaccessible disaster area called “The Zone.” (Locals bounce things off the invisible force field that surrounds The Zone for their amusement.) In short, Allegro is a clever piece of magical realism, making manifest the consequences of locking one’s emotions away.

The idea is compelling when described, but less so in execution. The premise is fantastical, but Boe is so committed to the reality of the situation that he devotes much time to the uninteresting business of getting Zetterstrøm to Copenhagen, getting him into The Zone, and finally getting him to understand the implications of his careless soul-ectomy. Yes, Zetterstrøm has intentionally extracted his heartbroken soul, but as played by Thomsen, he’s a pretty emotionally vacant fellow already. It ends up feeling like the function is following the form, and that rather than exploring this broken psyche by viewing it through the prism of an “Outer Limits”-style no-man’s land, Allegro seems to have come up with the strange storytelling twist and retrofitted a story to occupy it.

It is frustrating how much of Allegro is told and not shown. Zetterstrøm is spoon-fed every clue to unlock his stolen past by Moritzen’s ill-defined narrator/journalist/ringmaster, like the minder overseeing an escape room. Zetterstrøm’s performing ability is delivered to us second-hand. His relationship with Andrea is conveyed quickly through a crafty piece of editing that takes the couple’s relationship from its earliest moments to its sad end, but the technique denies us the opportunity to see the relationship for ourselves. Most tellingly, the film’s final revelation resolving the ramifications of his experience in The Zone, tying together the pianist’s emotional turmoil and his professional acumen, is delivered in voiceover.

Allegro goes hard on its unusual premise, and there are some intriguing camera and set design choices that reflect the scattered and troubled nature of Zetterstrøm’s memories. It’s also to the film’s credit that we invest in his relationship with Andrea (the film debut for former supermodel Christensen) despite how little we see of it. Ultimately, however, an appropriately weird idea does not alone make a weird film, and Allegro never quite makes good on what it promises. Contrary to its title, Allegro doesn’t go fast, and it doesn’t get where it wants to go.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…despite its surreal aspects, [Boe] keeps it real, as if Terry Gilliam had adopted cinema verite.”–Amber Wilkinson, Eye For Film (contemporaneous)

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

CAPSULE: BUTTONERS (1997)

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Recommended

DIRECTED BY: Petr Zelenka

FEATURING: Pavel Zajicek, Jan Haubert, Seisuke Tsukahara

PLOT: A variety of tales unfold simultaneously during a single night as a radio show attempts a review of the twentieth century.

Still from "Buttoners" (1997)

COMMENTS: Czechoslovakian, and later Czech, cinema has a lot to offer, especially for those interested in the weird. Many are familiar with the legacy of the (Valerie and Her Week of Wonders, Daisies) or its tradition of stop-motion animation (The Cybernetic Grandma, The Pied Piper). There are a plethora of lesser-known auteurs and visionaries lurking in the shadows, however, awaiting rediscovery. One of them is Petr Zelenka, whose comedies tackle the human condition through an absurdist lens (the distributor’s statement says he “formally combines an American independent movie poetic with Bunuelesque absurdity.”). Buttoners is a perfect example of his style.

Buttoners takes place mostly in the course of one long night and is divided into a series of chapters, each of focusing on different characters and their quirks. It gradually adds layers of meaning by revealing new points of view and multiple intersections between the characters, hidden in the details. In “The Rituals of Civilization,” a neurotic psychiatrist tries to find comfort in the small routines of personal care and hygiene. “The Last Decent Generation” shows how two elderly couples discover each other’s strange yet harmless fetishes.  And this is just a sample of the stories included here, building into a complex narrative of humanity at its weirdest and most original.

This is not superficial comedy where the characters eccentricities make them the butt of the joke. “The Rituals of Civilization” is, in fact, a meditation on our relationship with death and chaos. “The Last Decent Generation” tackles human quirks with sympathy, recalling Jan Svankmajer‘s far more bizarre Conspirators of Pleasure (1996). The bombing of Hiroshima is referenced throughout the movie, with a metaphysical twist towards the end, forming a common ground for all these disparate stories. This major event, with all its consequences, couldn’t be absent from a movie that attempts, among other things, to review the twentieth century.

All in all, Buttoners maintains a playful tone while reveling in clever twists. We can trace some formal similarities with the more recent Hungarian title Treasure City (2020), like the constant darkness and slightly surrealistic final segment. This Czech movie is way more light-hearted and comedic in style, however, which makes it the perfect recommendation for anyone looking for a sophisticated comedy unafraid to tackle serious subject matter.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“A strong return to the eccentric soul of [Czech cinema’s]1960s heyday… quirky, hugely enjoyable…”–Eddie Cokrell, Nitrate Online (festival screening) 

Knoflikari [Buttoners]

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    CAPSULE: STRANGE JOURNEY: THE STORY OF ROCKY HORROR (2025)

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    DIRECTED BY: Linus O’Brien

    FEATURING: Jack Black, Susan Sarandon, ,  , Peter Hinwood, ,

    PLOT: Most of the cast and crew of The Rocky Horror Picture Show gather to re-tell their experiences making the landmark cult classic that became the ultimate midnight movie.

    Still from "strange journey: the story of rocky horror"

    COMMENTS: It isn’t enough just to call The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) a “cult movie,” because it is the first movie to attract a cult at all. As fan after fan raves, it’s not just a movie, it’s an event, a lifestyle, an anthem uniting all us rainbow freaks into the collection of beautiful cosmic blueberries we are. For the 50th anniversary of this phenomenon, Strange Journey (2025) reunites most of the major cast and production team to tell how this movie came to be.

    The documentary is everything you’d expect. The producers spared no effort in tracking down everybody for a chat. Although sadly missing rock legend Meatloaf (RIP 2022), we still get sit-down interviews with Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, Bary Bostwick, Patricia Quinn, and even the rarely-appearing Peter Hinwood. Most prominently, we get Rocky creator and Riff-Raff himself, Richard O’Brien, giving us the complete story of how the story came to be: from its inception as a stage play to creation of the film, its initial flop release, and its subsequent discovery as a cult hit. We even get O’Brien on acoustic guitar singing the hits from the show as he originally composed them.

    The documentary is well-produced, with a nice flow alternating interviews and voice-overs with montages of photos and theater review clippings. The fandom gets its say as well, including veteran “shadow cast” performers speaking about how the cult around Rocky allowed them to live out their dreams as their out-of-the-closet selves. Jack Black provides cultural commentary. I don’t even question Jack Black appearing in anything anymore; he’s a free-range media personality who’s attracted to the smell of any camera.

    Your humble author was a tad young to catch The Rocky Horror Picture Show when it first came out, but I still heard about it. Over the years, a steady trickle of friends and acquaintances turned up saying they’d caught the show at some midnight campus event. I ended up with a cassette tape of the soundtrack before I ever saw the movie. As soon as I saw it, I got it immediately. The 1970s were a decade of hard-fought social issues, and a time when Americans were maddeningly obsessed with everybody else’s peepees and what they were doing with them. Rocky hit at the exact crest of a wave of social change, throwing off the persecution of alternate lifestyles and expression and wrapping sexual rebellion up in a tribute to rock ‘n’ roll and vintage horror. It was destined to be a hit, because this movie urgently needed to be made at that time.

    Naturally, any Rocky fan worth their feather boa needs to run right out and see this doc. So should cultural historians, and for that matter, rock music fans, because Rocky is the singularity around which all things cool revolve.

    Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror can now be rented on Plex, Apple TV, or Google Play, and a Blu-ray release drops on July 7, 2026.

    WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

    “I reminisced, I learned a few new things, and I walked away with an even greater appreciation for this wonderfully weird phenomenon.”–Louisa Moore, Screen Zealots