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Can a film made in one genre be better understood by viewing it as another? This book investigates this question in relation to Martin Scorsese’s 1991 remake of Cape Fear. Scorsese approached the film as a thriller, but Cape Fear is thematically and formally more coherent when viewed as a horror film. Across an introduction and five chapters, this book explores why this is the case. How Scorsese’s Catholicism and passion for horror has informed artistic decisions throughout his career, and the ways in which it reached an apex when he directed Cape Fear. The ways in which conventions of Gothic literature and fairy tales influenced this richly metatextual film, plus the impact of historical trends in horror cinema. How Robert De Niro’s research into antagonist Max Cady created a character who is closer to cinematic bogeymen rather than the more earthbound villains expected in thrillers. Film theory models around genre are utilised, along with interviews with key personnel on the film. Including a primary source interview with screenwriter Wesley Strick, who relates his experiences. Scorsese’s hyper-stylised directorial technique in Cape Fear is analysed for the ways in which it works to creates sensations typically associated with horror cinema, and the film’s legacy is also reviewed. Sexual politics and the controversy that surrounded Cape Fear’s depiction of sexual threat is also analysed, within the context of Scorsese’s depiction of women and accusations of misogyny that have been levelled against him during his career.

THE EVIL DEAD is one of the most inventive and energetic of all horror movies. Sam Raimi’s debut feature transcends its small budget and limited resources to deliver a phantasmagoric roller-coaster ride, a wildly absurd and surreal assault on the senses. The first two chapters detail the unique circumstances of the film’s origin - it began life as a short film which was used to encourage financial backing from a variety of investors – and it’s production history which was fraught with problems. Chapter Three examines the concept of the Bad Place (the cabin in the woods) and how the film structurally creates a ‘bad dream’ effect. Chapter Four considers how the film’s ‘macho’ male hero Ash shares similarities with the Final Girl of other horror movies of this period, while Chapter Five explores the critical approaches to the film and its reputation in Britain as a ‘video nasty’. Chapter Six examines how THE EVIL DEAD has influenced other works both within and outside of the horror genre since its release in 1982.

Born in the shadow of marital turmoil and political rupture, it is almost inevitable that Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession (1981) would be caught between two worlds. In Cannes, the film premiered in competition for the illustrious Palme d’Or; in the UK it was put on trial for charges of obscenity as part of the infamous ‘video nasties’ campaign. Beginning with a marital breakdown and ending with an apocalypse, Possession is a fascinating and confounding artefact skirting the boundaries between art and exploitation, visceral horror and cerebral reverie. Shot against the Berlin Wall at the height of the Cold War and replete with tales of a disappearing producer, drunken stunt doubles, and Haitian voodoo trances, the film’s production history is almost as bizarre as the finished product. Possession’s mystique has not dissipated over time; its transgressive imagery, histrionic performances, and spiral staircase logic continue to mesmerise audiences 40 years after its original release. Including new interview material from Sam Neill, extracts from the original shooting script and the BBFC’s archival reports, this book takes a deep dive into Possession’s history, stylistic achievement, and legacy as an enduring and unique work of horror cinema.

Since its release at the mid-point of the 1980s American horror boom, Stuart Gordon's Re-Animator (1985) has endured as one of the most beloved cult horror films of that era. Greeted by enthusiastic early reviews, Re-Animator has maintained a spot at the periphery of the classic horror film canon. While it has not entirely gone without critical attention, Re-Animator has often been overshadowed in horror studies by more familiar titles from the period. This book, which represents the first book-length study of the film, repositions Re-Animator as one of the more significant American horror films of its era. For Falvey, Re-Animator epitomises various developments that were taking place within the context of 1980s American horror. He uses Re-Animator to explore the rise and fall of Charles Band's Empire Pictures, a prolific if short-lived studio specialising in genre B-movies, the revival of the mad science sub-genre, the emergent popularity of both gore aesthetics and horror-comedies, as well as a new appetite for the works of H.P. Lovecraft in adaptation. This book tracks the film's various legacies, observing not only how Re-Animator's success gave rise to a new Lovecraftian cycle initiated by Gordon’s success here, but also how its cult status has continued to grow, marked by sequels, spin-offs, parodies and re-releases. As such, this book is both about Re-Animator itself and about the various contexts that birthed it and continue to reflect its influence.

Transgressive both in its narrative and in its filmmaking, Trouble Every Day (2001) envisions the monster inside, unspeakable urges and an overwhelming need for complete incorporation. A plant discovered in the South American jungle produces in its test subjects a terrible, unnatural and uncontrollable hunger. Vicious, all-consuming desire begets excessive violence and a turn to cannibalism, which situates Trouble Every Day into a tradition of challenging cinema, a film maudit that pushes the boundaries of what can be shown on screen. But while it is certainly an unflinching film, it is deserving of reassessment as part of Clare Denis’ filmography as well as a broader cinematic lineage. Focusing on close textual analysis, this book delves into the surfeit of visual, literary, and non-fiction references that shape Trouble Every Day while thwarting attempts to firmly situate it. It considers its place in a lineage of films that push the boundary of taste and representation, aligned as much with Un Chien andalou (1929) as the New French Extremity. It also considers the film’s relationship to such sub-genres as classic monster movies, video nasties, mad science, gothic, vampire, body horror, and Italo-exploitation cannibal films, and directors such as Abel Ferrara, Brian de Palma, Jean Renoir and Jacques Tourneau. Drawing on a range of disciplines, including art, philosophy and phenomenology, this study explores how Trouble Every Day elicits a visceral response to a cinematic experience that beguiles and violates.