Mother of Tears - The Third Mother (2007)

Some jokers unearth this old urn, but something about it freaks out the local Catholic muckamuck so he sends the urn to Rome to get it checked out. (What doesn't freak out the Catholics? My mom's boyfriend nearly had a heart attack once because I was eating a Big Mac on the wrong day of the week or something.) The cat in charge of Esoteric Horseshit is out of the office though, so two bimbos open the package instead and naturally one of them bleeds all over the thing and suddenly the whole city is going crazy and every witch with enough frequent flyer miles is showing up to get in on the fun. Which makes Rome sound like the place to be, until you remember that 98% of witches are lesbians, and the ones who aren't are already going out with a guy who's in a band. And judging by the witches in this movie, that band is Cinderella.

Meanwhile, the mega-tasty Asia Argento is right in the thick of it, but she's so busy being chased around by hipsters, cops, gothic lolitas, and monkeys that she barely has time to expose any nipple much less figure out what to do. Eventually though she realizes that she's the main chick, so she decides to take down the queen witch once and for all, which turns out to be surprisingly easy. I'm not kidding, it takes me longer to open a bottle of beer with a cigarette lighter than it takes Asia to trounce this bitch.

I wouldn't have expected a 1000-year-old witch to look so much like one of the
Bangles. Not that I'm complaining. (Hair by Ken Paves, fake tits by Satan.)

So the end's a fizzle, and there are some pretty stupid parts along the way – like when Asia nearly drowns in raw sewage, then two seconds later doesn't have a drop of poo on her – but there's also a head crushed in a door, eyes gouged out, a spear up the cooch, a guy set on fire, an arm whacked off with a machete, a surprising amount of infanticide, rioting, vandalism, some lesbo action, and plenty of tits, so really, I got no complaints.

Asia Argento, who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.

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For more witchy goodness (and badness), check out my latest film guide Hex Crimes: The Worst Witch Movies Ever Made, free on Amazon June 20 through June 22, 2016, and only 99 cents after that. Cheap!

Sexting: Sex + Text = Trouble

You know what really equals trouble? Parading this slew of sex-crazed, underage hotties across my TV screen. I mean, I'm no Jared, but come on, a man can only take so much.

First up, some chippies take a few naked pics, just for a larf...

...but apparently one of them doesn't know how to use e-mail and the next thing you know their racy pictures are all over the school and on my hard drive. Er, I mean NOT on my hard drive. Because I would never. Anyway, I loved their classmate's matter-of-fact reaction to the whole thing:

Chick: "You obviously saw the pictures. They were supposed to be private."

Dude: "I guess that didn't work."

Still, there is an upside they don't mention: after a few weeks of embarrassment and grief, you know these chicks ended up being the most popular girls in school. Especially Chloe.

In our second example, this chick's jealous, creepozoid ex-boyfriend (take my word for it, she can do a lot better) sends naked pics of her to her mom, to what end I can't possibly imagine. Maybe he's trying to make the mom insecure about her own body so that he can move in, flatter her up, and possibly nail her as well, at which point he can check the ever elusive "mother-daughter combo" off his list. I joke, but that's actually not such a bad plan. Well, aside from the fact that he's 18 and his ex-girlfriend isn't, which means that he'll be doing all his future "sexting" up in the Stateville Prison. Except in this case "sexting" means "being brutally raped by his cellmate", of course.

Our final zany sexual misadventure begins when Mr. Furley... oops, sorry, wrong video. The correct misadventure begins when this kid leaves his Facebook page open and his buddy posts a bunch of hilarious filth. ("The only words here that aren't obscene are of, the, and and," someone subsequently points out.) Luckily for him, nothing really comes of it and the only indignity he suffers is getting bitched out by his sister. Who, I might add, is pretty damn tasty and is welcome to sext me any time:

That's right, I learned absolutely nothing from this video. It's called confidence. Maybe you should try it sometime. You're welcome.

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My newest book on film, Monkeys & Dinosaurs: Cinema as High Art, Vol. 1, goes on sale in one short week. In the meantime, catch up by reading all of my previous books, available here.

Wild Child (2008)

Hollywood Exec: "We need a movie that will appeal to the tween girl demographic, while also satisfying the creepy old man demographic... Something I can watch with my daughter, but that, say, Mr. Satanism would also enjoy..."

Valued Assistant: "How about a movie about a naughty teenage girl who gets sent to boarding school?"

Hollywood Exec: "Go on..."

Valued Assistant: "Well, she's hot, and underage, and, you know, naughty. But not too naughty: strictly a fair-to-moderate level of out-of-control. And... her dad sends her to a British boarding school, so all the girls wear private schoolgirl uniforms and have British accents. And are underage, of course."

Hollywood Exec: "Rating?"

Valued Assistant: "Oh, PG-13, for sure. Lightweight teenage rebellion stuff. Our main girl alters her uniform so that it's sexy as fuck. Mild swearing. Implied shoplifting and underage drinking, obfuscated to such a degree that it feels like there are entire scenes missing. Maybe some property destruction. No tits."

Hollywood Exec: "No tits? But Mr. Satanism...

Valued Assistant: "Underage. Private. School. Girls."

Hollywood Exec: "You magnificent fucking bastard."

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For more girl-centric movies, check out Lifetime Movies ...for Men, on sale now.

A Chronology on Elm Street, Part 6

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

The problem with movies is that it doesn't take much to fuck one up. One shitty actor, one monster suit sporting a visible zipper, one selfish actress who won't take her top off... Sometimes that's all it takes to bring the whole house of cards tumbling down. This movie, this miserable fucking whore of a movie, is the perfect example. It begins with our lovely blonde Dokken fan still being terrorized by Freddy (see previous entry in this chronology), and with no second third-rate rockers to rescue her this time she's at her wit's end, eating coffee raw and chasing it with Diet Coke in a desperate attempt to remain awake and skinny. This soon lands her in a home for wayward, suicidal teens (my favorite kind), where it turns out that all the patients have the fever for the flavor of a Freddy. (It's an old TV commercial reference, like "Chow chow chow." Just don't worry about it.) Fortunately for them, the main chick from Part 1 (inexplicably not dead, despite the way that movie ended) shows up to help them develop their lucid dreaming skills, the only way to defeat Freddy on his own turf.

Dammit, Freddy, the penis goes inside the hottie, not the other way around.

Meanwhile, this creepy/ridiculous nun reveals that to truly destroy Freddy someone needs to find his remains and bury them in hallowed ground. Or, you know, in the middle of a junkyard, whichever is easier. (Seriously, don't make an effort or anything.) Now, combine these two plot threads and we're finally getting somewhere. Part 3 has always been the natural ending point for sloppy, unplanned movie series because then they can go around claiming that it was "always meant to be a trilogy", and here it is Part 3 and they've come up with a wholly plausible double-whammy means to put Freddy out of commission once and for all that, if it doesn't really make normal sense, at least makes horror movie sense. And fuck me if their two-front assault doesn't work: between fighting the kids in slumberland and reanimating his bones Jason and the Argonauts style in the real world, Freddy's powers are stretched a little too thin and his clock is finally punched. But not before the hot blonde is almost eaten by a gigantic penis; one chick upgrades from a frumpy 4 to an edible 8 when, in her dreams, she reinvents herself as a punk rock chick (I'm telling you middle-of-the-road girls right now, going punk/goth works, and I can't speak for everyone but I have no problem dating a poseur, as long as she's good in the sack.); and a mediocre nurse who's really Freddy in disguise shows us his/her tits while seducing a teenage boy (because as if Part 2 wasn't evidence enough, Freddy is inarguably gay and a pedophile).

Can't name a single song by The Jam. No one cares.

So yeah, this would've been a passable flick if it wasn't scuttled by the bullshit final shot, where it's revealed that Freddy is STILL alive FOR NO DEFENSIBLE REASON WHATSOEVER. You cock-nobbing motherfuckers. You just spent this entire movie meticulously laying out the goddamned "this is how you kill Freddy" rules once and for all, and then you throw the entire megillah out the fucking window with absolutely no explanation???? Are you FUCKING kidding me??? Why, why, why, should I watch a movie where nothing that anyone does matters at all? Freddy still being alive in the final shot of this miserable flick literally negates everything that happened in the 95 minutes preceding it, and everyone involved can just rim my fucking job. Fuck Dream Warriors. I hate this cunt movie.

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The Not-At-All-Cleverly-Titled Book of Dragon Movies. Now available.

Hollywood Lolitas Us Again...

Here's a few classy shots of the children's movie The Neverending Story III blatantly sexualizing an extremely underage girl:

For the full review (of the movie, not the girl, you perv), check out my latest, The Not-At-All-Cleverly-Titled Book of Dragon Movies, on sale now, exclusively on Amazon. And holy shit, if you're a Kindle Unlimited member, it's FREE! Don't have a Kindle? Relax, download this free Kindle app and read Dragon Movies, and all my books, on any device! God damn, the future is awesome, isn't it?

A Chronology on Elm Street, Part 4

A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy's Revenge

A new family moves into the house formerly occupied by the previous movie's main chick, and in no time flat their teenage son is possessed by Freddy and off on a gory, homicidal rampage. Although he does get some limited action with a hot little redhead first, and in my book that's a pretty fair trade-off.

Redheads. Always worth it.

This is the Elm Street flick everyone hates because it doesn't quite gel with the rest of the series, but that's exactly why I like it: it just does its own haunted house/possession thing and doesn't get bogged down with a bunch of half-assed "mythology" that nobody cares about anyway. Plus Freddy is still a passably scary badass here instead of the fucking joke he would soon become, rattling off endless Bob Hope-style one-liners and pimping his own 1-900 number and shit. Seriously, what a tool. In this movie, the people get the funny lines, like the main kid's dad ("He needs a methadone clinic!"), or this smartass:

Chick: "So you going to Lisa's house tomorrow night?"
Dude: "No. Can't. I'm grounded."
Chick: "How come?"
Dude: "I threw my grandmother down a flight of stairs."

Then there's the main chick, a sizzling-hot redhead who isn't even fazed when her sort-of boyfriend shows up at the front door covered in someone else's blood. We all need a girl like that. Clearly this is all good stuff, but wait, there's more:

• The exploding bird
• The joker with the huge Limahl and King Kobra posters in his room. In the history of the world, has there ever actually been a person who listens to both Limahl and King Kobra?
• The whale-song playing while red-hot Red is trying to stab Freddy in her kitchen. For real, did you ever notice that? What the hell?
• All the terror builds up to Freddy crashing a high school pool party. Ha ha! Maybe he'll TP the quarterback's house next. Duh.
• Special shout-out to the bikini chick with the Flock of Seagulls hair at that party, by the way. She doesn't do anything important, but Jesus Christ is she fucking fine.
• End credits song: "Did You Ever See a Dream Walking?" by Bing Crosby. Brilliant. This movie rocks. Or swings, whatever.

Seriously, any babe with the vag to wear her hair like this, in public, has won my eternal love.

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Dig these crazy haunted house movies? I wrote an entire book on the subject. Legendary House of Haunted Hell is currently available here.

So... which psychotic, vengeance-crazed teenage girl would YOU ask to the prom?

Carrie White (Carrie - 1976)

 

 

Susan Bradley (Kiss of the Tarantula - 1976)

Jennifer Baylor (Jennifer - 1978)

Rachel Lang (The Rage: Carrie 2 - 1999)

Carrie White (Carrie - 2002)

Carrie White (Carrie - 2013)

It's a tough call, but I think I'd have to go with Rachel. There are no wrong answers though, so defend your choice in the comments section below.

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I write books about horror movies. The least you could do is buy them.

Ouija (2014)

I suspected that this wasn't gonna be a classic when the official trailer repeatedly pronounced the title wrong. I'm a real mark for ouija board movies though, so you better believe that I was first in line to torrent this sucker the weekend after it came out. Besides, its only real competition during the 2014 Hallowe'en movie season was Annabelle, a flick that unabashedly glorifies the (thankfully) deceased Ed Warren (may his soul writhe in torment forever) and his hag, cunt wife Lorraine, who's due to join him any time now, at which point the world will be an infinitely better place. Given the choice between mediocre half-scares and supporting real-life filth like the Warrens, I'll take the former every time. I'm a supervillain, not a monster.

Honest-to-fuck monsters are out there though, just ask
the Warrens. Here's their 100% true account of a real-
life werewolf that they exorcised OMG totally for reals.

And to be fair, Ouija didn't quite deserve the ruthless rub-a-dub-drubbing it got from most critics. The first half, in fact, is pretty okay: it introduces (or at least perpetuates) some fun new ouija lore for middle school girls to try out at slumber parties ("If you look through the little window in the planchette, you can see the ghosts that are talking to you!"); a chick hangs herself with Christmas lights (Is it wrong that whenever a chick hangs herself in a movie, I'm secretly hoping for an upskirt shot?); there's your usual parade of semi-effective jump scares; and while you won't give a whit about the zero-dimensional characters you'll probably want to fuck at least one of them, which is almost as good. (Hell, that attitude got me through two marriages.) Unfortunately, after the one girl is levitated and dropped head first into her bathroom sink (apropos of nothing, she's wearing really cute socks when this happens) things start to bog down, with the remaining kids going all Mystery, Inc. in an attempt to figure out who's haunting them and why, which means research, and as we all learned in college, research is generally boring. Plus, like a lot of ghost movies, this one eventually reaches a point where the obvious solution is to simply burn the house down, which has the dual benefits of solving the problem once and for all while also being kinda fun. Hardly anyone ever does this though, preferring to run up and down the hallways, screaming like a bunch of imbeciles. The all-time ouija board movie champ remains 1986's Witchboard, starring a pre-deranged Tawny Kitaen's tits, but this one easily makes the top ten, assuming there even are ten ouija board movies, of course. I suppose I could look that up, but man, that really smacks of research. Fuck that shit.

Tawny Kitaen in Witchboard. Or possibly at home. Whatever.

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To see more ghostly horror movies put in their place, check out my book Legendary House of Haunted Hell, on sale here.

Mr. Satanism Meets Angel Love

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"It's Mr. Satanism. I'm here to review your comic book, and I'll start out by saying that it definitely needed more tits."

"It's me all right, but don't freak out, baby; I won't be ripping you a new one. Except for the lack of rack, I think your comic is pretty fucking awesome."

"Damn straight, Red. I know it's for chicks and shit, but you've got stories about abortion and doing blow and incest and everything. Not only is that cool in and of itself, but it's also proving to be useful in a more practical sense. See, because the cartoonish art style makes your book look so cute & innocent, I was able to give copies to that stupid single mom who wouldn't go out with me to pass on to her kids, and she won't realize they shouldn't be reading it until it's too late. And then there's the fact that you're unbelievably fine; sure, comic books are full of hot redheads, but why put up with a drama queen like Jean Grey who dies every other Tuesday when you could just hang with Angel Love? I usually go after comics like yours with both barrels, but as far as I'm concerned Angel Love totally fucking rocks. Five stars, A+, three thumbs up."

"It's not luck, toots - you earned it. Now put on something sexy so we can go out and celebrate. And when we get back, I'll stick it in your poop chute."

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Shop Mr. Satanism. So much darker than Black Friday.

Doctor Who, Series 5: Volume 1 (2010)

Despite my best efforts, I've developed a more-than-passing familiarity with most of the subcultures of nerd, from the basics (Star Wars and Trek, Marvel Comics, Dungeons & Dragons) to the second-tier (Firefly, Supernatural, Battlestar Galactica Classic) to the ironic (Manimal, Project Blue Book, Dollhouse), to the hopelessly obscure (She-Wolf of London, Bunnies & Burrows, actually fucking girls). One thing I've managed to avoid up to this point though is Doctor fucking Who, the endearingly quirky British (so far all of these descriptors are terrible) time traveler who's been on the air longer than most people sucking air today have been alive, or almost twice as long as The Simpsons. In fact, here's everything I knew about Doctor Who before I watched this DVD:

• He travels around in a phone booth that shares all the qualities of a time machine, a spaceship, and Snoopy's doghouse.
• His primary adversaries are robots called the Daleks, who haven't had a special effects upgrade since the 1960s.
• He changes into a different guy every time the BBC gets fed up with the current actor playing him.
• His sidekick is generally a young, hot chick, and don't tell me he's not fucking these chicks because why wouldn't he?

So why would I bothering delving into the world of Doctor Who at this late date? Two words: this incomparable vision:

I suppose I should be a lot more awed by this chick, but really I'm not. After all, it was only a matter of time before genetics and breeding would, through accident or design, produce the most stunning woman who ever has or ever will exist. I'm just glad that it happened during my lifetime. As for the show itself, the first episode on this DVD is effectively creepy, clever, and funny, sometimes all at once, and I have to say, I was dutifully impressed. The second episode manages the same general tone, but with notably diminishing results. And the third one is pretty awful, clearly just an excuse to roll out the new-year model Dalek, which I half-expected Doctor Who to start pimping for only $2349 down and $199 a month. (Three year lease, with approved credit. Some exclusions may apply.) That averages out to a solid C, and while that is a passing grade it's hardly something to brag about. Thousands of U.K. fans (and thirty-ish U.S. ones) can't be wrong, you say? Sure they can. Thousands of people paid to see 2004's Van Helsing, right? Thousands of people watch Family Guy. Thousands of people voted for Hitler and read John Saul novels. Thousands of people are wrong all the fucking time, and don't forget that Doctor Who is a product of the U.K., the country that gave us Crazy Frog, Filthy Rich & Catflap, a non-porn Spice Girls movie, and the Fast Food Rockers. Their pop culture aggregator is clearly set to "Do Not Filter Results". Sorry, you limey nerds, but, aside from the redhead, I really don't see what the fuss is all about. Oh, and apparently the redhead is actually Scottish, so you can't even hold that over my head.

Final word: Doctor Who = meh

Full disclosure: I would totally fuck the blonde from the Fast Food Rockers.

We'd do it in a tub full of KFC gravy, while crushing several Big Macs between
us. Like a fast food-themed Pink Flamingos. God damn I'm hungry right now.

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Buy my books, where I call all this nerd shit out.

Halloween 5 (1989)

Every long-running horror series has a quintessential installment, the one where all the cliches and tropes are firmly in place, but they haven't yet descended into baldfaced gimmickry, like making the episode "funny" or setting it in outer space. I hereby submit that Halloween 5 is the quintessential Halloween sequel, even though, no, in fact because it isn't very good. It starts with a recap of the previous movie, showing how Michael Myers survived certain death yet again, after which he stumbles into some old dude's hovel and... well, he just up and crashes there until Halloween rolls around again! That's right, Michael Myers, mad slasher, just kinda chills at this cat's pad for an entire year, and unless the guy is a fucking saint or something we have to assume that, at the very least, Michael Myers paid for his own groceries and chipped in a little bit for the utilities. Seriously, think about that for a minute. Imagine all the day-to-day shit that two roommates splitting a really small place would have to hash out, and then imagine that one of those roommates is Michael fucking Myers. Did Michael Myers put little sticky labels on his food so the old guy wouldn't eat it? Did they argue over whose turn it was to feed the parrot? (Yes, they have a parrot. A parrot!) Did one of them ever walk in on the other one jerking off? When you start thinking about the practicalities of the situation, the sheer absurdity of it completely overshadows everything else that happens in this movie, which is too bad because otherwise it hits all the Halloween notes we've come to expect. Michael Myers dons his William Shatner mask. Michael Myers lurks in the bushes and the background. Michael Myers chases one of his female relatives around with a knife. Michael Myers kills several luckless bystanders. Michael Myers' doctor rants and raves and overacts, ultimately achieving nothing. It's like a ballet, if ballet featured more brutal murders, which I think we can all agree it should. Oh, and as a bonus, this chapter also features the incomparably fine "Tina", the acme of Halloween victim-babe hotness, trumping even Nancy Loomis in her underwear, which is no mean feat:

Of all the classic slashers, only Friday the 13th Part 5 trotted out more concentrated wet dream fodder, with its double dose of "Robin" and "Violet":

Both cut down in the prime of their horny lives.
This, THIS is why serial killings should be illegal.

So while Halloween 5 won't be winning any awards (except maybe one of those stupid ones, like the Saturn Award or something), consider checking it out. Tina's legs are not to be missed, and, if nothing else, you'll never have to watch another Halloween sequel again. And won't it be nice to have that checked off your list?

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Happy Hallowe'en.

Child's Play 3 (1991)

The saddest entry in any horror franchise is the one that makes that last, floundering attempt to be scary before descending entirely into winking self-parody. The Child's Play/Chucky series (based on the execrable "My Buddy" doll, which it hilariously outlived by decades) was never very serious (or good) to begin with, and it's clearly just spinning its wheels here, but at least it's still trying to be a horror movie, instead of pummeling us with a bunch of tiresome one-liners and celebrity cameos like some sort of misguided Roseanne reunion special that doesn't even have the decency to feature both Beckys, naked, making out with each other. Not that there aren't one-liners, of course (this is a 1980s horror sequel), and the premise is fucking ridiculous (Chucky the killer doll mails himself to a military academy, where he befriends a thoroughly detestable knockoff of Webster) (yes, even more detestable than the actual Webster), but there are a couple of gruesome murders, the main chick's best friend is a hot redhead (I want her), there's not one but two scenes where Chucky is thrown into the garbage (an excellent idea deserves repeating), and, if the credits are to be believed, somewhere in this movie there's an actress named "Aimee Joy Slutske", and if she wasn't the most popular stripper working second shift at the IHOP, well, goddamn it, she deserved to be.

Aimee Joy Slutske, probably.

Unfortunately, even Aimee Joy Slutske's ostensible charms can't save this shitbasket of a movie, mainly because Chucky's intended victim is such a cloying, willfully obtuse little sneak-thief asshole that there's not a human being on Earth who will be rooting for his survival, which is kind of a problem when the entire plot hinges on rescuing him from a gruesome fate that he totally deserves. Seriously, he's the kind of kid that, when the surgeon says "We almost lost your son," his parents say "Try harder next time." If he were my child, our secret parental code word would be "hey kid, get in the van". It's a lie to say you'll never hate a small black child more because Rudy Huxtable still exists, but at least Rudy Huxtable ultimately grew up to star in porn. At least according to unattributed articles people keep posting on my Facebook feed.

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Redheads! Contact me! I'm on the Facebook!

American Horror House (2012)

A clear riff on American Horror Story, a show that, at the time, hadn't yet descended into irredeemable, two-headed stupidity, this is yet another sorority house horror about bitchy, ugly sorority girls who are terrorized by several killer ghosts (including then-Florida governor Rick Scott) (trust me, it's the least of his evils), the victims of a mad slasher who's still creeping around, adding to their ranks. The kills are plentiful, gory, and stupid; it's about as scary as nuking a burrito; and the acting is on par with someone in a coma. Also, what is with the broad playing the violin instructor? How does someone who acts in sub-rent horror movies even afford that much plastic surgery? (Then again, she obviously got the budget package, so never mind.) Pretty much the sole bright spot is the main chick, primarily because she walks around in her underwear for an extended period of time:

This shot makes the movie look way better than it actually is.

One asshole even manages to flub the movie's best line ("Life's a bitch and so are you!")! It's a total crash & burn on every level, and bad even when compared to other sorority house movies. When you can't even live up to the lofty standards of something that usually has "National Lampoon's" appended to the title, you really need to pack up your fake blood and your underwear chicks and just go the fuck home.

Actually, feel free to leave one of those underwear chicks with me. I'll take either one of the blondes.

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For more haunted hijinks, check out my book on haunted house movies, available here.

The Chair (2007)

Wow, the chickie-poo in this movie is a real cutie, and... is she on meds? Why, yes, yes she is. I think I'm in love. And it's a good thing she is so damn adorable, because this really is a movie about a house that's haunted by a goddamned chair. The first half hour or so is pretty spooky though, and I like how they made the main chick more curious than frightened, which at least gives her a plausible reason to keep hanging around the place. Eventually she gets possessed, and for a while the story grinds to a halt because all she does after this is stare out the window and eat cat food. She's like a hotter version of my grandmother. Finally she icepicks her ex-boyfriend in the noggin, and then she uses the aforementioned chair, which she's Rube Goldberged into some sort of unnecessarily-complicated torture device, to give her sister and some annoying little kid the business. The end is pretty stupid (How dumb is this kid? Why doesn't anybody call the cops? And that guy who shows up at the end, whose ass did he fall out of?), but overall it's totally worth catching just for the main chick; I can't remember the last time I crushed on an actress this hard. She's the type of girl who looks better lounging around in sweats than most women look in a $1000 cocktail dress. Especially my last wife, because when I found out she dropped a cool grand on one lousy cocktail dress her accessories ended up being two black eyes and a necklace made out of her own teeth.

For the last time, I promise not to put it
 on YouTube. Just take your clothes off.

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For more on haunted house movies,check out my book Legendary House of Haunted Hell, available on Amazon.

Hellraiser Bonus: The Nine Finest Hellraiser Babes

Emma (Part 9)

Amy (Part 7)

Allison (Part 8)

Tiffany (Part 2)

Terri (Part 3)

Sandy (Part 3)

Junkie Cultists (Part 7)

Unidentified Extra (Part 3)

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Horror: dissected and pushed down the stairs. The Mr. Satanism Library is available here.