Steeped in rain, humidity, and eerie bayou atmosphere, The Skeleton Key is an entertaining supernatural thriller that makes excellent use of its Louisiana locations. New Orleans and the rural environs of Terrebonne Parish are crucial in setting up the creepy circumstances that find compassionate caregiver Caroline Ellis (Kate Hudson) newly employed at the backwater plantation home of Violet (Gena Rowlands) and her invalid husband Ben (John Hurt), who's been rendered mute and seemingly helpless by a recent stroke. The place is rife with mystery, shrouded in the secrets of a suspicious past and, under Violet's stern supervision, plagued by superstition involving the use of Hoodoo magic spells (not to be confused with Voodoo, as explored in the similarly suspenseful Angel Heart) intended to protect the house from harm. But Caroline soon discovers the source of the mystery, and why Ben (who can barely utter a word) is so desperate to escape his seemingly comfortable domesticity. There are a few loopholes in the screenplay by prolific horror writer Ehren Kruger (The Ring and The Brothers Grimm), but director Iain Softley (Wings of the Dove) expertly emphasizes the edgy air of mystery, pushing some effective shocks while encouraging fine work from Hudson, Peter Sarsgaard (as Violet's lawyer) and especially Rowlands, who's genuinely disturbing as Skeleton Key nears a twist ending that's undeniably effective. -Jeff Shannon.

The eighth entry in the series, Halloween Resurrection maintains connections to John Carpenter's original. A prologue picks up the thread of Halloween: H2O, with poor Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) now in a psychiatric hospital and determined to shut down homicidal Michael Myers once and for all. The story then shifts to the old Myers house, where a TV reality show has enticed six teenagers to spend a single night in the spooky home in a plot-line stolen straight from the indie thriller My Little Eye. Needless to say, things are spoiled when Michael barges in: "I so did not sign up for this," sighs the young heroine, when the bloodletting begins. The mayhem is being broadcast live on the Internet, which makes the film a bit like Rear Window with Instant Messaging. The interesting premise is routinely handled, but that's enough to make this one of the better sequels in the series. Maybe they finally finished off Michael in this one, wink wink. -Robert Horton.

When his absent-minded father gives young Billy Pelzer (Zach Galligan) a new pet, he warns him to abide by three rules. The rules get broken, of course, and the pet-a cute Mogwai named Gizmo-unwittingly gives birth to the vicious Gremlins who proceed to terrorise the town. Although the long shadow of Producer Steven Spielberg hangs over Joe Dante's 1984 comedy Gremlins almost as much as it did over Tobe Hooper's Poltergeist (1982), Dante doesn't allow it to overwhelm his own quirky style too much. Glimpses of Robbie the Robot and The Time Machine (which promptly disappears) at an inventors' convention reveal his passion for old-movie references (which culminated with Matinee, 1993). Aided and abetted by Spielberg's guidance and a script by Chris Columbus (who would go on to direct and produce the Home Alone franchise) and a music score by Jerry Goldsmith, Dante had all the help he needed to make the biggest hit of his career. Much of the humour derives from Dante's playful handling of the setting in Smallsville, USA, whose inhabitants are as much the target of his satire as they are of the Gremlins' unwanted solicitations. The xenophobic neighbour who warns prophetically of "gremlins" in foreign cars and machinery provides a subtext for the attack on homely American values, as does showing Invasion of the Body Snatchers on TV while the wicked Gremlins hatch. The sight of the little tykes cavorting in a bar, getting drunk and even dancing in pink leggings looks suspiciously like a satirical dig at the whole 1980's culture of selfishness: with their destructive impulses and overindulgences the Gremlins are the ultimate egotistical yuppies. As with many Spielberg projects, the bland hero saves the day for nostalgic, old-fashioned values, but there are plenty of laughs along the way-for example in the now-classic scene when the hero's mother fights off Gremlins in the kitchen by stuffing them in the blender and microwave. Dante's 1990 sequel is even more satirically pointed, and he effectively remade the original with Small Soldiers (1998), replacing Gremlins with toys. [+]

A stylish sequel though inferior to its classic predecessor, Bill Condon's Candyman 2: Farewell to the Flesh deepens our knowledge of what made the murdered Daniel Robitaille turn into the monster that haunts dreams and mirrors. But some of it is still pretty routine: schoolteacher Annie takes a long time to connect her family's plantation-owning past and her own artistic talent with the legend, and is far too ready to say the Candyman's name five times in a mirror to debunk her pupils' fears. The setting-New Orleans in Carnival time with a disc jockey whimsically reminding us that Carnival is the last farewell to pleasure before the rigours of Lent-and the atmospheric score by Philip Glass give the film some of its class. Tony Todd, who returns as the Candyman, gives the monstrous spectre with a hook for a hand a quiet dignity and sadness which impresses. His life was torn agonisingly from him and he is mad for vengeance, yet he has an artistic temperament and loved Annie's kinswoman Caroline. Condon captures an attractive elegiac tone in much of this, as well as moments of brutal horror. On the DVD: Candyman 2 is presented in widescreen 1. 78:1; there is an attractive crispness to the picture which does real justice to the film's impressive sense of place. The music score comes across well in Dolby Digital stereo. There is a theatrical trailer, but no other features. [+]

The success of The Fall of the House of Usher in 1960 spurred American International Pictures to quickly launch another production based on an Edgar Allan Poe story. While producer-director Roger Corman had hoped to next adapt "The Masque of the Red Death" (which wasn't produced until 1964), Pit and the Pendulum (the on-screen title) became the second in AIP's long-running Poe series. Set in post-Inquisition Spain, the film stars John Kerr as a young Englishman who travels to the seaside castle of his brother-in-law (Vincent Price) to uncover the circumstances behind the death of his sister (a dubbed Barbara Steele). Price is tormented by memories of his mother's premature burial by his inquisitor father (also Price) and fears that this sadistic legacy has contributed to Steele's demise. Furthermore, he believes that Steele was also buried alive-a belief compounded by the mysterious destruction of her room, and the sound of her harpsichord playing in the night. Structured almost identically to Usher, Richard Matheson's script fleshes out the brief original text with a fast-paced and twist-filled plot that never loses sight of the psychological themes of Poe's work. It also provides Price with the richest of his many AIP/Poe roles, a sympathetic, deeply emotional man who is unhinged by the sins of his father. Corman's direction is equally driven and fluid, and features some impressive quasi-psychedelic visuals in the tense climax. [+]

Lake Placid is total trash-and, as a result, pretty entertaining. Yet another entry in the horror sub-genre of giant animals running amok, the movie features a giant crocodile that has somehow found its way to an isolated lake in Maine. The absurdity of crocodiles in Maine sets the tone for the entire movie, which has no ambitions beyond mixing a little fright with a little humour (Curiously, this concoction was put together by David E Kelley, better known as the creator of TV's Ally McBeal and The Practice). Bridget Fonda plays a palaeontologist sent to investigate a large tooth; Bill Pullman is a fish and game warden just trying to keep the peace; Oliver Platt plays a loose-cannon mythology professor who swims with crocodiles for sport; and Brendan Gleeson is a local sheriff with a short temper and a big gun. Add a few gruesome dismemberments, Betty White as a cantankerous old broad who may have murdered her husband, and a cow hanging from a helicopter, and there you have it: Lake Placid. -Bret Fetzer, Amazon. com.

After years of rumours, it turns out that Tim Burton was the perfect visionary to film Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Stephen Sondheim's Broadway masterpiece, and the result is a macabre and moving musical movie as enthralling as anything Burton has ever done. The show's mix of gothic horror, Grand Guignol, very dark humor, and witty and beautiful music never was the stuff of traditional musical comedy, but it's a powerful work, and perhaps the richest of the late 20th century. In the movie, Burton's frequent collaborator, Johnny Depp, plays Todd, a wronged man whose lust for revenge drives him to murder (an 19th-century legend who has been traced to a real-life barber). Helena Bonham Carter, another Burton mainstay, is Mrs. Lovett, the barber's partner-in-unspeakable-crime. It's no surprise that Depp is an excellent choice to convey Todd's brooding intensity and volcanic rage, but he can also sing a score that is so challenging it has often played in opera houses (though not with the same style as the Broadway original, Len Cariou, and he occasionally lapses into pop style). Bonham Carter is small of voice and lacks the humour of the original Broadway Lovett, Angela Lansbury, but she sings on pitch, in rhythm, and in character at the same time, which is no small feat for a Sondheim show. Aficionados will regret the loss of certain musical passages-"The Ballad of Sweeney Todd" is just an instrumental overture and the chorus is gone altogether, among others, but the reassuring presence of orchestrator Jonathan Tunick and conductor Paul Gemignani ensures that the music feels right and sounds great. And the film's depiction of a Victorian London hellhole, with cinematography by Dariusz Wolski and costumes by Colleen Atwood, also looks and feels right. The excellent cast is filled out by Alan Rickman as the villainous Judge Turpin, Timothy Spall as his seedy Beadle, Sacha Baron Cohen as a rival barber, Jamie Campbell Bower as the young lover Anthony, Jayne Wisener as his object of affection, and Ed Sanders as the young Toby. [+]

Anti-vivisection activists make a very bad judgment call and release an experimental monkey infected with "rage". 28 Days Later. , as the title has it, bicycle messenger Cillian Murphy wakes up from a post-traffic accident coma in a deserted London hospital, ventures out to find the city depopulated and the few remaining normal people doing everything to avoid the jittery, savage, zombie-like "infecteds" who attack on sight. Our bewildered hero has to adjust to the loss of his family and the entire world, but hooks up with several others-including a tough black woman (Naomie Harris) and a likable London cabbie (Brendan Gleeson)-on a perilous trip northwards, to seek refuge at army officer Christopher Eccleston's fortified retreat. However, even if they survive the plague, the future of humanity is still in doubt. Directed by Danny Boyle and scripted by novelist Alex Garland, this is a terrific SF/horror hybrid, evoking American and Italian zombie movies but also the very British end-of-the-world tradition of John Wyndham (Day of the Triffids) and Survivors. Shot on digital video, which gives the devastated cityscapes a closed-circuit-camera realism, this grips from the first, with its understandably extreme performances, its terrifyingly swift monster attacks and its underlying melancholy. Deliberately crude, 28 Days Later is also sometimes exceptionally subtle. [+]

A surprise hit when it was released in September 2005, The Exorcism of Emily Rose tells a riveting horror story while tackling substantial issues of religious and spiritual belief. It's based on the true story of Anneliese Michel, a German student who believed she was possessed by demons, and whose death during an attempted exorcism in 1976 led to the conviction of two priests on charges of negligent manslaughter. As director and cowriter (with Paul Harris Boardman), filmmaker Scott Derrickson adapts this factual case into a riveting courtroom drama in which questions of faith, and the possibility of demonic possession, take the place of provable facts in the case of Father Moore (superbly played by Tom Wilkinson). A small-town Catholic priest, Moore has been put on trial for the post-exorcism death of Emily Rose (Jennifer Carpenter), a college student who, like her real-life inspiration, believed she was suffering from demonic possession. As an agnostic defense attorney (Laura Linney) argues the father's case against a Methodist prosecutor (Campbell Scott), flashbacks reveal the exorcism ritual and Emily's ultimately fatal ordeal, and Carpenter's performance is so frighteningly effective that it's almost painful to watch. From here, the film remains deliberately ambiguous, leaving viewers to ponder their own belief (or lack of it) in the supernatural. It lacks the extreme shock value of The Exorcist, but by leaving room for doubt and belief in a legal context, The Exorcism of Emily Rose gains depth and resonance in a way that guarantees similar long-term appeal. -Jeff Shannon.

Something's wrong in the town of Santa Mira, California. At first, Dr. Miles Bennell (Kevin McCarthy) is unconcerned when the townsfolk accuse their loved ones of acting like emotionless imposters. But soon the evidence is overwhelming-Santa Mira has been invaded by alien "pods" that are capable of replicating humans and taking possession of their identities. It's up to McCarthy to spread the word of warning, battling the alien invasion at the risk of his own life. Considered one of the best science fiction films of the 1950s and '60s, this classic paranoid thriller was widely interpreted as a criticism of the McCarthy era (that's Senator Joseph, not actor Kevin), which was characterised by anticommunist witch-hunts and fear of the dreaded blacklist. Some hailed it as an attack on the oppressive power of government as Big Brother. However viewers interpret it, this original 1956 version of Invaders of the Body Snatchers (based on Jack Finney's serialised novel The Body Snatchers) remains a milestone movie in its genre, directed by Don Siegel with an inventive intensity that continues to pack an entertaining wallop. Look closely and you'll find future director Sam Peckinpah (an uncredited cowriter of this film) making a cameo appearance as a meter reader!-Jeff Shannon.

Shot in the UFA studios with a big movie star in the lead and all the special effects and production design resources any blockbuster of its time could wish for, FW Murnau's 1926 Faust represents a step up from his better-known Nosferatu. Oddly, Faust is a less familiar film than the vampire quickie and this release affords fans a chance to see what Murnau can do with an equally major fantasy story. Adapted neither from Marlowe's play Dr Faustus nor Goethe's verse drama, the script scrambles various elements of the legend and presents a Faust (Gosta Ekman) driven to summon the Devil by despair as a plague rages through the town, desperate to gain enough learning to help his neighbours. When this deal doesn't quite work out, because he is stoned by townsfolk who notice his sudden fear of the cross, Mephisto (Emil Jannings) offers Faust instead renewed youth and an opportunity to seduce a famously beautiful Italian noblewoman and then to return to his home village and get involved with the pure Gretchen (Camilla Horn). Like most versions of the story, it's episodic and some sections are stronger than others: the great stuff comes in the plague and initial deal sequences, though it picks up again for the tragic climax as Gretchen becomes the central figure and suffers horribly, freezing in the snows and burning at the stake. Jannings' devil, a gruesomely humorous slice of ham, is one of the great silent monster performances, reducing everyone else to a stick figure, and Murnau faces the challenge of topping his Nosferatu imagery by deploying a battalion of effects techniques to depict the many magical journeys, sudden appearances and transformations. On the DVD: Often seen in ragged, incomplete prints projected at the wrong speed, this is a decently restored version, running a full 115 minutes with a complete orchestral score. The original materials show some of the damage to be expected in a film of its vintage, but the transfer is excellent, displaying the imaginative art direction and camerawork to superb advantage. Aside from a nicely eerie menu, the sole extra is a full-length commentary originating in Australia: written by historian Peter Spooner but read by narrator Russell Cawthorne (who mispronounces the odd name). This provides an interesting wealth of background detail, such as Murnau's attempt to cast Hollywood's Lillian Gish as Gretchen, and delivers a balanced assessment of the film itself. [+]