Darren Aronofsky isn’t afraid to take you to hell and back. Nor does he care whether you enjoyed the ride or not.

The already polarized reception mother! has received illuminates the perceived differences between art-house and mainstream audiences. Whereas one side is claimed to revel in philosophical mush, the other prefers explosive and expositive studio slop. Leave it to Aronofsky to embrace polarization and release a film that abides by each of these stereotypes and expertly demonstrates that neither audience is absolute.

The Limehouse Golem is a whodunit with surprising social commentary amongst the classy decoupage of English theater. I don't know if it's the foggy streets of old England or the posh accents but it has earned the distinction of being 2017's most 'pinky out' horror film.

As a horror fan, your free streaming options can be incredibly limited. Most of us have likely scrolled through the bowels of Netflixs horror section, hoping to make the right decision between the endless cadre of straight to VOD horror that inundates most online platforms. So before we even get into talking about this film, try to place yourself there. Set your expectations appropriately. Are you there? Can you feel the desperation and resignation? Good. Let’s begin.

Katherine MacColl reacts in terror in Lucio Fulci's The Beyond

If the eyes are the window to the soul then that must make The Beyond a mischievous neighbor kid with a bat and a whole mess of baseballs. Lucio Fulci’s 1981 gore fest is driven by an almost otherworldly urge to inflict spectacularly revolting ocular trauma, utilizing thumbs, rusty nails, and even the occasional ravenous tarantula to do the job. This onscreen eyeball assault is matched only by the film’s persistent attacks on the common sense of those watching.

Stephen King's name can conjure a myriad of immediate reactions. For many his cultural significance is marked by the knowledge that whatever is about to unfold will be satisfyingly unsettling. From three versions of Carrie to two versions of The Shinning, the King’s work seems to draw consistent and frequent adaptation. Arguably one of his most notorious and discussed works is the novel It, which was adapted for TV as a mini-series in 1990. Audiences may have missed out on viewing the over four-hour epic since its release 27 years ago, but Tim Curry's performance as Pennywise the clown has become a part of cross genre of pop culture.

Like his cinema, Tobe Hooper’s voice was that kind of resonant, droll, molasses-like drawl that you never forget. I’ve only heard it in a handful of commentaries and interviews but that’s a voice that impresses with clarity. It’s this sort of tendency that inflects much of what BGH staff came to recall or find in revisiting Hooper’s work. His are the types of films you remember your first time seeing. Genre defining and boundary busting, his earlier work only grows in its revolutionary esteem.

From Cronos to Hellboy and Crimson Peak, writer/director Guillermo del Toro has consistently demonstrated his transformative brand of storytelling. His gothic imagery oozes deep shadows from the frame, capturing his characters and audiences in a world that although displaced from reality, feels at their greatest moments intimate, familiar, and warm. The 2006 horror/dark fantasy Pan’s Labyrinth is for many del Toro's finest hour, blending magical realism with the most balanced touch of upending humanity’s favorite conflict: good vs. evil.

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We are all the dreamers.

When Spontaneous Combustion came out in 1990 it was the capper on Tobe Hooper’s remarkable two decade run of good to outright classic horror and sci-fi movies.