Directed by the visionary photographer Mika Ninagawa, Helter Skelter is a hallucinatory descent into the grotesque underbelly of the Japanese idol industry. It serves as a candy-colored nightmare that blends high-fashion aesthetics with visceral body horror to critique the disposable nature of fame.

The story follows Lilico (Erika Sawajiri), the undisputed queen of the fashion world. To the public, she is a goddess of natural perfection; in reality, her entire body — save for her eyes, hair and private parts — is the result of extreme, illegal plastic surgery.

Much like her character Lilico, actress Erika Sawajiri was a controversial figure in the Japanese media. After a highly publicized fallout with the press and a five-year hiatus, Helter Skelter served as her massive return to the screen. Her performance was widely praised for its raw, manic intensity.

As her body begins to reject the procedures, leading to black bruises and skin leakage, Lilico’s mental state also begins to rot. She becomes a volatile tyrant, desperately clinging to her status while her younger, natural rival, Kozue (Kiko Mizuhara), threatens to replace her. The film culminates in a frantic exploration of identity, asking what remains of a person when their physical self is entirely manufactured.

Ninagawa’s signature style, defined by hyper-saturated primary colors, dense floral arrangements and high-contrast lighting, is used here to create a sense of claustrophobia. The world she creates is so bright and perfect that it becomes nauseating. Plus, many of the ads and magazine covers seen in the film were treated as real marketing, effectively using the same tools of the fashion industry it seeks to criticize, blurring the line between the movie’s world and real-life consumerism.

Adapted from Kyoko Okazaki’s 1996 josei manga, the film honors a creator widely considered a pioneer of the medium. Okazaki is celebrated for her signature flat aesthetic and her unflinching exploration of female sexuality and the crushing isolation of urban life.

Tragically, just as her influence was reaching its peak, Okazaki’s career was derailed by a devastating accident. In May 1996, she and her husband were struck by a drunk driver in a hit-and-run in Tokyo’s Shimokitazawa district. While her husband was able to recover within a month, Okazaki suffered catastrophic injuries, including a fractured skull and internal organ failure, that left her unconscious for a prolonged period and permanently altered the course of her life and work. Despite this forced retirement, Okazaki’s influence remains immense; her existing body of work continues to thrive through constant reprints and high-profile media adaptations.

Also: There’s no way that Coralie Fargeat didn’t see this before she made The Substance.

This 88 Films release has audio commentary by Tori Potenza and Amber T.; interviews with Erika Sawajiri and director Mika Ninagawa; behind the scenes footage; the production site press conference; the Japanese premiere stage greeting; the opening day stage greeting; a Taipei Film Festival introduction by Mika Ninagawa; a stills gallery; teasers and trailers; a booklet essay by Violet Burns and original and newly commissioned artwork by Luke Insect. You can get it from MVD.

If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if a box of neon crayons exploded inside a 19th-century Japanese brothel, Mika Ninagawa has the answer. Stepping away from her camera lens and into the director’s chair for the first time, Ninagawa turns the legendary Yoshiwara red-light district into a fever dream of hyper-saturated reds, golds, and teals. This isn’t your grandmother’s stiff, polite period piece; this is a rock ‘n’ roll riot in a kimono.

Based on the manga by Moyoco Anno (a powerhouse in the josei — comics for adult women — world; she’s married to Neon Genesis Evangelion creator Hideaki Anno), the film stars the eternally cool Anna Tsuchiya (Kamikaze Girls) as Kiyoha. Sold into the Yoshiwara at eight years old, Kiyoha doesn’t exactly have a compliant personality. She screams, she kicks, and she tries to run away constantly, usually right toward the blooming cherry blossoms that represent a freedom she can’t quite reach.

As she grows into the Oiran (top-tier courtesan) known as Higurashi, the film tracks her ascent through a world that is equal parts high-art elegance and cutthroat survival. Between dodging the jealous schemes of rival girls and navigating the hearts of powerful men, Kiyoha has to decide if love is a trap or an exit strategy.

Ninagawa’s background as a world-class photographer is everywhere. Every frame is a postcard from a punk-rock Edo. The colors are so loud they practically ring your ears, bolstered by a killer, anachronistic score by J-Pop icon Shiina Ringo. The music blends traditional jazz, big band, and rock, perfectly mirroring Kiyoha’s defiant spirit.

This release from 88 Films includes extras such as audio commentary by Josh Slater-Williams, an introduction by Amber T., a stills gallery and trailers, as well as a booklet with essays by Japanese cinema expert Jasper Sharp. It all comes wrapped in a gorgeous package with art by Luke Insect. You can get it from MVD.

The Beast Hand follows Osamu (Takahiro Fukuya), a man at the bottom of the social ladder who gets chewed up and spit out by the criminal underworld. After a botched interaction with the mob, he loses his left hand to a sword. Guided by his ex-girlfriend Koyuki (Misa Wada, Fukuya’s real-life wife), he visits an unlicensed surgeon. The transplant works, but the hand isn’t just a tool; it’s a sentient, aggressive entity.

The procedure is a success, but the recovery is a nightmare. Osamu discovers the hand possesses its own consciousness, a feral, predatory instinct that begins to dictate his actions. As the hand’s bloodlust grows, Osamu is pulled back into the underworld, no longer as a victim, but as a biological weapon. The film centers on the tragic irony of a man who finally gains the power to stand up for himself, only to realize he is no longer the one in control of his own limbs.

Directed by Taichiro Natsume and written by Yasunori Kasuga, this relies on practical gore and puppetry to give the hand — and the gore — a tactile, repulsive reality.

Extras include promo clips and trailers. You can get this on DVD or Blu-ray from MVD.

Directed by Peter Perry Jr. (Honeymoon of Terror, Mondo Mod, My Tail Is Hot) — using the name A.P. Stootsberry — and written by Maurice Smith (the writer of Julie Darling), The Joys of Jezebel has Lucifer (Christopher Stone, not the one you’re thinking of), apparently running a bit low on quota, sending the infamous Jezebel (Luanne Roberts, using the name Christine Murray; she was also in Prison Girls, Bonnie’s Kids and Trader Hornee) back to Earth. Her mission? Claim the soul of Rachel (Dixie Donovan), a blonde virgin who represents the ultimate prize for the underworld.

The twist, of course, is that Jezebel doesn’t just deliver the soul. She inhabits the vessel. But as it turns out, the 20th century is a lot more complicated than the biblical era and Rachel’s life comes with baggage that even a demon queen wasn’t prepared to carry. That’s because, along with her sister Ruth (Lois Ursone using the pseudonym Angela Graves), they’ve been sold off to Joshua (Johnny Rocco) and Jeremiah (Jay Edwards).

While Jezebel is busy playing body-thief, Rachel ends up in Hell, leading Lucifer on a merry chase where he bumps into a Who’s Who of the damned, including Goliath (Jess White), Solomon (Woody Lee) and Eve. The film hits its stride when Jezebel realizes that being human—with all its sensory distractions and emotional messiness—is its own kind of trap.

This was produced by David F. Friedman, who started his entertainment career as part of the traveling tent shows of the 1930s and 40s, learning the art of the pitch. He knew that what you saw mattered far less than what you were promised. This carny DNA followed him into the film industry, where he realized that if you called a movie educational or medical, you could get away with showing things that would make a nun faint.

In the early 60s, Friedman teamed up with Herschell Gordon Lewis to invent an entirely new subgenre. Tired of the nudist colony films (which Friedman basically perfected), they decided to pivot to something even more visceral with their gore films.

Friedman eventually moved to California and formed Entertainment Ventures, where he produced everything from roughies to softcore romps. He was a gentleman in a dirty business — famously articulate, well-read and honest about his motives. He wasn’t trying to win an Oscar; he was trying to sell popcorn and fill seats.

When he passed away in 2011, the world lost its last great link to the era of the true independent roadshowman. He didn’t just make movies; he made attractions. And as long as there’s a flicker of sleaze playing somewhere, the spirit of Dave Friedman is right there in the front row, counting the receipts.

You can watch this on Cultpix.

Mrs. Pringle (Elizabeth Davis) is a delightful old biddy who runs a wig shop. She’s quirky, she’s eccentric, and she has a bit of a supply chain issue. You see, synthetic hair is for amateurs. Mrs. Pringle only deals in the real deal.

Enter her son, Rodney (Chris Martell). Rodney is… well, Rodney is a lot. He’s got the mental capacity of a toddler and the hobby of a 17th-century frontiersman. He spends his days renting rooms to local college girls, only to promptly scalp them to keep his mother’s inventory fresh.

Herschell Gordon Lewis was never one for subtlety, but the opening of The Gruesome Twosome is truly in a league of its own. Before we even see a drop of gore, we watch two styrofoam heads talk to one another. This opening four-minute segment was filmed in Chicago, months after production ended. During post-production, it was discovered that the running time was too short.

In case you wonder why people are eating Kentucky Fried Chicken while go-go dancing, Lewis was an advertising guy and would always make a deal with the franchise to appear in his movies so that he could feed it to his cast. Just imagine: Hot Florida weather, gore made from sheep guts that sits in Lysol when not used, and slowly growing cold, greasy chicken. This is what his movies crawled from, like primordial proto-slasher amphibians that have just learned to emerge on land. 

You can watch this on Cultpix.

Anise is a woman living in the Argentine countryside with a singular, driving obsession: she wants to be a mother. Her husband is impotent, but that doesn’t stop her from seeking out every possible avenue to conceive, from the desperate (prostitution) to the supernatural (visiting a local witch). However, she has a secret admirer who makes her dance card a literal obituary page. The Pombero, a goblin-like creature of Guarani folklore, has fallen in love with her. He’s the jealous type, and he’s more than happy to slaughter any man who dares to touch the object of his affection.

If you’ve spent any time in the sweat-soaked trenches of South American exploitation cinema, you know the name Armando Bó. He was the man who turned Isabel “Coca” Sarli into a global icon of “sex-and-nature” cinema. Usually, their films involve Isabel wandering through a jungle or a river while men lose their minds over her.

Once you see her, you’ll get it.

Bewitched (originally titled Embrujada) follows that blueprint but adds a heavy dose of folk horror and supernatural sleaze. It’s less of a romantic drama and more of a nightmare where the Coca Sarli brand of eroticism meets a slasher movie directed by a man who clearly spent too much time staring at the sun. Bó dives deep into Paraguayan/Argentine myths. The Pombero isn’t a sparkly vampire; he’s a hairy, whistling forest spirit.

According to Guarani legend, the Pombero is a protector of birds and the forest. If you want to stay on his good side, you must leave honey, brandy and tobacco on a fence post for thirty nights. He is often blamed for unexplained pregnancies or the disappearance of women. Bó took this abductor aspect and made the Pombero into a supernatural stalker with a kill count.

As for his obsession — both Bó and the Pombero — Isabel Sarli was never just an actress; she was a force of nature. Starting as a model, she became Miss Argentina and reached the semi-finals of Miss Universe 1955. Her acting debut was in Thunder Among the Leaves, which has a controversial nude scene featuring Sarli that made it the first Argentine film to feature full frontal nudity. If you’re doing an SAT-style question here, Bó is to Jess Franco as Sarli is to Lina Romay. They became lovers, and she became the primary star of his films until he died in 1981.

John Waters has stated several times that Sarli’s movies have inspired some of his own films, and he presented Fuego in Argentina and got to meet her. He famously treated her like royalty. He once described her films as “feminist” in their own warped way because Sarli’s characters were often hyper-sexual beings who existed entirely outside the proper moral codes of the time.

Even when the script asks her to do the impossible, Sarli commits 100%. Her descent from a hopeful bride to a woman haunted by a forest demon is played with an operatic level of mania. 

Embrujada was released during a period of intense political turmoil and strict censorship in Argentina. The fact that Bó managed to release a film about a woman seeking supernatural impregnation and a forest goblin’s killing spree is a testament to his tenacity (and his ability to market art vs smut). Much like Franco and Romay, he and his muse were able to make aberrant cinema in the most restrictive of political cultures.

You can watch this on Cultpix.