A dazzlingly unique cult film directed by Nobuhiko Obayashi, House follows seven teenage girls as they unwittingly enter a realm haunted by the bitter (and voracious) ghost of a woman waiting in vain for her long dead fiancé. That's a fairly basic premise for a haunted house feature, but Obayashi's avant garde instincts collide in kaleidoscopic ways with the movie's homemade special effects, amateur performances, odd musical score, and the studio's insistence that there be nudity. The result is an expressionistic and madcap film that stands alone in the cinematic landscape; it's certainly very different from Jaws (1975), which producers asked Obayashi to imitate when House was in its developmental phase.

The first and only feature film by producer/director Herk Harvey, Carnival Of Souls was made under a quick timetable and with little money; like the German Expressionist films it borrows from, this movie relies heavily upon inexpensive atmospheric elements that are supposed to showcase the psychological interiority of its characters. It made little impact upon its initial release, but Carnival Of Souls instantly fell into the public domain due to a clerical error and it gradually grew a cult audience due to its prevalence in late night TV broadcasts, cut rate home video releases, and frequent screenings at horror movie festivals in independent theaters during October.

Slapped together under a shoestring budget and released directly to video by schlock movie mogul Charles Band, Puppet Master was an instant cult hit that launched the longest running franchise of the infamous Full Moon Features content farm. As of this date, there are over a dozen sequels when you factor in crossovers, reboots, and spinoffs. None of these movies are particularly good by most standards of taste, but they've clearly made some kind of impression on the movie watching public. At the insistence of Cheryl and Pete, Ryan has recorded a discussion about how Puppet Master was made, who made it, and what he thinks the creative team was trying to say.

Adapted from his own novella, Clive Barker's directorial efforts on Hellraiser are often lambasted for their amateurish touch and brusque storytelling (and few critics were harsher about it than Barker himself). Still, Hellraiser struck a chord with audiences for its bold ambition, its uncompromising commitment to the grotesque, and its unapologetic exploration of sadomasochism. This film led to nine direct sequels, an upcoming reboot, and a barrage of merchandise and brand extensions. The film's principle monster, nicknamed Pinhead by the crew, also become an unlikely October kitsch mascot in the same vein of Dracula, Freddy Krueger, and The Crypt Keeper; Ryan finds is extremely odd that this cosmic leather pervert can be frequently seen on paper plates at children's Halloween parties.  

Pitched shortly after the success of Dracula (1931), but not put into development until after Frankenstein (1931), The Invisible Man outgrossed most of its predecessors in the Universal Monsters megafranchise and is probably one the main reasons why the studio kept cranking these things out for the next twenty-five years. Reasonably faithful to its source novel (H.G. Wells had veto power over the script), The Invisible Man is fondly remembered for its groundbreaking visual effects; the film predates the widespread adoption of green screen technology by decades and treated audiences to something that nobody had ever seen before. This movie also benefits greatly by a manic, over-the-top performance by Claude Rains, making his sound debut.

Rock & Rule was the first animated feature produced by Nelvana, a Canadian studio that created a great deal of content that younger Gen X and older millennials have substantial regard for. While it was first pitched as a children's movie, three years of development resulted in Rock & Rule becoming an adult-skewing, post-apocalyptic parable centering on a rock band using their harmonies to prevent a demonic summoning. It boasts vivid multi-plane camera effects, surprisingly smooth animation, oddly memorable character designs, and a soundtrack featuring Blondie, Cheap Trick, Iggy Pop, Lou Reed, and Earth, Wind, And Fire.

This episode centers upon a film about the seedy underbelly of children's entertainment. A scummy kid's TV host (Robin Williams) loses his gig after getting caught up in a bribery scandal. His replacement (Edward Norton) is a wholesome, guileless entertainer who has to contend with the sabotage attempts made by his predecessor, but his true test comes when his well-defined ethical code is tested by the widespread corruption and late stage capitalistic excesses of the modern media landscape. Catherine Keener, Harvey Fierstein, Jon Stewart, Pam Ferris, Michael Rispoli, Vincent Schiavelli, and Danny Woodburn give supporting performances.

It's often said that movies are magic, but that's another way of saying that movies are a trick. Movies are made when a director stages and/or captures an assortment of scenarios and then, through careful editing, a pile of raw footage is pared down and spliced together to form a narrative. This process is filled with deliberate artifice and its goal is to manipulate its audience in some way. The master craftsmen of filmmaking are able to use the stories they create to slyly influence the people who watch them in ways that have sent innumerable reverberations throughout modern society.

One of the defining films of the screwball comedy genre, His Girl Friday was released to an indifferent audience in 1940. However, because Columbia failed to renew its copyright, the film lapsed into the public domain and steadily grew an appreciative cult audience due to constant broadcasts on TV stations in need of cheap timeslot filler. It's now considered one of the strongest films produced during the Golden Age of Hollywood and is a core entry in the filmographies of director Howard Hawks and co-leads Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell.

Shot by Richard Linklater and meticulously rotoscoped under a tight budget, Waking Life centers upon an unnamed protagonist who gradually realizes that he's roving through a seemingly-endless dream world. When not subjecting the viewer to surreal and psychedelic imagery, Waking Life spends most of its running time on a series of conversations and monologues about existentialism, Buddhism, the nature of dreams, death, desire, Philip K. Dick, and metaphysics. Depending upon your perspective and your tolerance for cinematic naval gazing, Waking Life can be profound, pretentious, or a little bit of both.