May 3, 1962 should be a day to be celebrated. After all, that’s when this movie debuted as a double feature with Invasion of the Animal People, Jerry Warren’s remix of the Swedish movie Space Invasion of Lapland. But here, in this film, it’s all Jerry: directing, writing, producing and editing. What did people feel when they crawled into the light from a dark theater or drove away from a drive-in? Were they astounded? Did they feel like someone had smacked them in the head with a rock? I wish I could have been there and seen normal people confronted by the magic that is Jerry Warren.

While his peers like Roger Corman were busy filming scenes, Jerry was the king of the buy-and-fix-it-up special. Usually, that meant taking a moody Swedish thriller or a Mexican horror flick, hacking out the plot and dubbing in dialogue that didn’t match the lip movements. But with 1962’s Terror of the Bloodhunters, Jerry actually stepped behind the camera to give us a Southern California pretending to be South America classic.

Our story kicks off with a great escape. A group of prisoners decides that a French penal colony isn’t exactly a five-star resort and makes a break for the dense South American brush. Because no B-movie escape is complete without a hostage, they snag the commandant’s daughter, Marlene (Dorothy Haney). From there, it’s a grueling hike through the Amazon by way of Griffith Park, where they face bug bites, humidity and the realization that their wardrobe wasn’t picked for hiking.

As this is a Warren movie, you should expect a generous helping of stock footage, including snakes, lizards and birds that clearly aren’t in the same zip code as the actors. And yes, there are actually cannibals.

If you’ve seen Warren’s other work, like The Wild World of Batwoman, you know one of his defining stylistic tools: The Long Pause. He loves a static shot where characters stare into the middle distance, perhaps contemplating their life choices or waiting for the craft services truck.

However, Terror of the Bloodhunters is often cited by the cult-cinema faithful as one of his better efforts. Why? Because it actually sticks to a coherent narrative. Starring Robert Clarke, a guy who survived both The Hideous Sun Demon and The Astounding She-Monster, the film has a professional anchor that keeps it from drifting entirely into the abyss of boredom. Clarke brings a level of sincerity to the role of Steve Mallory that the script probably didn’t deserve.

Plus, because it’s barely an hour, it doesn’t overstay its welcome. It gets you in, shows you some tribal spears and stock crocodiles, and gets you out. It’s not exactly Fitzcarraldo, but if you have a soft spot for grainy black-and-white foliage and guys in khakis shouting at the treeline, this is for you.

You can watch it on Cultpix.

Look, we’ve all been there. You’re out in the woods, the sun is shining, you’re filling your pail with strawberries, and suddenly you realize you’ve wandered too far into the green abyss. For siblings Kusti and Iti, a simple foraging trip turns into a folk-horror nightmare when they stumble into the clutches of the Forest Mother, an evil hag with a penchant for child labor and a complete lack of hygiene.

Coming out of the Soviet-era Estonian studio Tallinnfilm, Bumpy (originally Nukitsamees) is based on the 1920 story by Oskar Luts. But don’t let the fairytale label fool you. This is one of those Eastern Bloc productions that feels like it was fueled by unpasteurized milk and ancient superstitions.

The hag forces the kids into a life of grimy servitude, but the real heart of the film is her son, Bumpy. He’s a shy, soot-covered little creature with literal horns growing out of his head. While his family is busy being quintessential forest-dwelling creeps, Bumpy forms a bond with Iti. It’s the kind of beauty and the beast friendship that can only happen when both parties are terrified of the same matriarch.

When the opportunity for a jailbreak arises, Kusti and Iti don’t just run for the hills. They take the little horned weirdo with them. The third act is essentially a fish-out-of-water story, but the water is a civilized village and the fish is a boy who thinks bath is a four-letter word.

Oh, it is? OK.

Bumpy’s horns and the general grime of the hag’s hut are peak 80s practical effects. There’s a tactile, earthy quality to the sets that makes you want to wash your hands after watching. All with a vibe that balances the thin line between a charming children’s adventure and the kind of movie that gave an entire generation of Estonian kids a permanent fear of the woods.

Director Helle Karis was a master of the musical-fantasy genre in Estonia. She didn’t just make movies; she built worlds that felt like they existed ten minutes behind a secret door in your backyard. It’s weird, it’s rhythmic, and it’s deeply rooted in the idea that family isn’t about whose horns you share, but who helps you escape the forest. If you’ve exhausted your supply of Grimm’s tales and need something with a bit more Estonian grit, this is your strawberry jam.

You can watch this on Cultpix.

Matt Jaissle has earned a “forever pass” in my book. Anyone responsible for the unhinged, DIY madness of The Necro Files — a film featuring a flying, murderous baby doll — has proven they have the gonzo spirit required for true cult cinema. Jaissle is also one of the few directors to tackle the Amityville brand and bring original ideas to the table, rather than just filming a dusty hallway for 90 minutes. So, when I saw the cover for Night of the Rats, looking like a spiritual successor to Rats: The Night of Terror, I was all in.

The setup here is classic, meat-and-potatoes eco-horror. A quiet Midwestern town (and the second a TV announcer casually refers to the setting as Evans City, my Western Pennsylvania heart grew three sizes, and I fell deeply in love) becomes an all-you-can-eat buffet for a mutated, subterranean colony of rodents. These aren’t your average dumpster-divers, either. We’re talking fast-breeding, hyper-aggressive, radioactive pests that have developed an insatiable taste for human flesh. We follow a pair of scientists desperately trying to stem the tide as the furry, red-eyed swarm moves rapidly from the rural cornfields into the local kitchen sinks.

Against all budgetary odds, the way the rat swarm spreads through the back roads, isolated barns, and farmhouses actually feels genuinely claustrophobic. Nowhere is safe, not even the wide-open, agoraphobic spaces of the Midwest. But Jaissle throws an incredible curveball into the standard eco-horror formula: these rats carry a pathogen that can actually take over the minds and bodies of the people they bite.

If you’re coming to a Matt Jaissle movie, you’re looking for those moments of “did they really just do that?” The way the rat swarm spreads through the back roads and farms feels claustrophobic. Nowhere is safe, not even the wide-open spaces of the Midwest. They can even take over people who have been bitten, which leads to a scene that’s at once both horrific and hilarious, as a woman is trapped in her car as a zombie pounds on the windows. The camera pulls back to reveal…about ten fake rats. That’s the kind of absurdist magic that I watch movies for.

There’s also a rat in a bathtub scene done twice — yes, Jaissle hasn’t just seen Nightmare City, he’s going to reference it to the point that The Nightmare Becomes Reality comes up on screen — that reminded me of the time vermin climbed up our toilet and as a three-year-old, I looked down between my legs into the eyes of a rodent. 

Jaissle’s love for the golden age of Euro-sleaze drips from every single frame of this thing. Even the closing credits are a masterclass in cinematic trolling and fan service, hilariously naming “Fulvio Cozzi” and “Umberto Margherti” (glorious portmanteaus of Luigi Cozzi,  Antonio Margheriti and Umberto Lenzi) as the wardrobe crew. The special thanks section reads like a holy litany of grindhouse gods, sending love to Evans City, PA; George A. Romero; Lucio Fulci; Umberto Lenzi; Luigi Cozzi; Bruno Mattei; Enzo G. Castellari; Antonio Margheriti; Dario Argento; Andrea Bianchi; Lamberto Bava and multiple energy drinks.

When you break it down, Night of the Rats boasts a rumored $2,000 budget, a horde of rats that look like they were rescued from a pet store bargain bin or a claw machine, characters running around in yellow hazmat suits, stuffed rodents being physically thrown at actors’ faces from off-camera à la Mattei and older dudes with long ponytails having vivid, waking nightmares (I have never felt more seen). Plus, it all gets done in 70 minutes and has a great poster!

You can watch this on Tubi.

Forget narrative. Forget logic. Forget everything your teacher told you about decency and linear progression. Fluctuations is a fever dream captured on celluloid, a 1970 sensory assault that feels like it was edited with a chainsaw by someone who spent the previous night huffing industrial glue and reading Marquis de Sade.

Imagine a kaleidoscope of human anatomy, high-contrast lighting and sudden, inexplicable violence. It’s a stream-of-consciousness bombardment where the only constant is the lack of a constant. One minute you’re watching a somber, avant-garde exploration of Sapphic intimacy; the next, there’s a hair-whipping sequence that defies both physics and scalp health. Then, because why not, the film decides it’s a Shaw Brothers flick and throws in some low-rent kung-fu. It’s a dizzying cocktail of threesomes, foursomes and bondage that blurs the line between arthouse cinema and “the kind of film found in a brown paper bag behind a dumpster.

Rumors have long persisted that the film was a “re-edit job” of multiple unfinished projects. This would explain the jarring tonal shifts from erotic drama to martial arts mayhem. Director Joel Landwehr is listed, however, and he also directed and narrated In Hot Blood. 

Among the actors, Kim Lewid is one of the few who have appeared in other movies. Using the name Kim LeWise here, she was also in The Ultimate Degenerate, Gigi Goes to Pot and The Filth Shop. 

I’ve heard the thought that the soundtrack is close to throwing silverware down the steps, which is accurate, along with a barely audible phone sex call. But mostly, dudes do bad karate and everyone gets naked, but not sexy, and I love this for that.

You can watch this on Cultpix.

Renee Harmon is Linda Allen, an exotic Eastern European woman who lands in Los Angeles with a suitcase full of vengeance and a wardrobe that suggests high-fashion spy via Sears.

Linda is looking for the mobsters who tortured and murdered her sister. Naturally, this involves a lot of driving around L.A. and looking intensely at things. Meanwhile, the mob is sweating over a missing incriminating tape. You know the one. Every movie from 1975 to 1985 had a missing tape that could bring down the entire underworld, and yet nobody ever seems to own a backup copy.

As Linda navigates a seedy landscape of polyester-clad pimps and henchmen, she crosses paths with an FBI agent who might be helping her, or he might just be another strand in a tangled web of corruption. Does Linda have the deadly skills to survive? Well, she has the power of Renee Harmon’s unique acting choices, which is a weapon more powerful than any 9mm.

This was directed by James Bryan, the man who gave us the slasher-in-the-woods classic Don’t Go in the Woods. If you’re expecting Hollywood polish, you won’t find it.

Harmon didn’t just star in this; she produced it and wrote it. She has a truly singular screen presence with an accent that defies geography and a penchant for non-sequiturs. If you enjoy this, you need to track down Executioner Part II (which isn’t actually a sequel to anything) or Frozen Scream.

Made as Deadly Games in 1975, director James Bryan said it was added to a package of films released by a U.S. distributor of then-popular martial arts movies, which was released theatrically in 1977 or 1978. Bryan and producer/star Harmon used the proceeds of that sale to make Don’t Go In The Woods and Frozen Scream.

Much of the footage in Lady Streetfighter was recycled and repurposed for later Harmon/Bryan projects. In the world of regional exploitation, a good shot of a car exploding is a terrible thing to waste. Plus, you’ll hear a synth-heavy score that sounds like it was composed by someone who had the plot described to them over a very fuzzy long-distance phone call. It’s perfect.

Renee Harmon may not be able to convincingly fight, but she does lick a phone receiver, take several showers and also eats suggestive celery. This movie just wants to make you happy.

There’s also an unreleased sequel, Revenge of Lady Street Fighter, which is on the AGFA Blu-ray release.

You can watch this on Cultpix.