1. The Substance (Coralie Fargeat, 2024)
Boldly taking cues from Kubrick, Cronenberg, Lynch and Yuzna, Coralie Fargeat (Revenge) crafts the most stunning body horror in recent memory, one that eschews subtlety in favor of fierce toying with genre tropes, and takes its no-holds-barred approach to (gory) extremes in the unforgettable finale. Part acerbic satire on unrealistic beauty standards, and part intense dissection of self-loathing, the Faustian tale of ‘The Substance’ can also be read as a cautionary note on drug abuse, as well as a tongue-in-cheek portrait of the unhealthy struggle of reaching for the stars.
Assisted by the top-notch production and costume designs, gruesomely detailed prosthetics, meticulous framing, and pulsating score, writer-director Fargeat excels as a visual storyteller, directing with a firm hand, and eliciting uninhibited performances from the leading stars – Demi Moore (Elisabeth Sparkle, vulnerable and desperate) and Margaret Qualley (Elisabeth’s youthful and sassy alter-ego, Sue), and some high-camp sleaze from Dennis Quaid (whose supporting character isn’t named Harvey for nothing).
2. 3 Women (Robert Altman, 1977)
Imbued with mystery from the very first chord, and wonderfully matched to the hazy imagery of the opening sequence, Gerald Busby’s sublimely uncanny score anticipates the offbeatness that would gently shroud the proceedings in Robert Altman’s allegedly ad libbed feature. Elevating the weirdness are beautifully bizarre murals by the most reticent of three women (or three personas of one woman?) portrayed by Shelley Duvall, Sissy Spacek and Janice Rule, each actress lending the film her own (divine!) idiosyncrasy, all the while synergizing on the mood-spectrum between yellow and purple. A dreamlike reflection on identity, ‘3 Women’ is nothing short of a transcendental cinematic delight.
3. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (Don Siegel, 1956)
Reportedly not intended to operate as a political allegory, the first adaptation of Jack Finney’s 1954 novel undeniably reflects the fear of totalitarianism, and loss of identity, intensified by somniphobia. Pervaded by an increasingly strong feeling of (palpable!) dread and paranoia, it is a fine example of building suspense through the simplest of means, with Don Siegel’s sharp direction, and resonant performances, particularly from Kevin McCarthy in the leading role, anchoring the film.
4. No abras nunca esa puerta / Never Open That Door (Carlos Hugo Christensen, 1952)
Initially composed of three self-contained stories linked through the theme of the door that separates one’s own ‘enlightened home’ (good) from ‘dark jungle’ (evil), ‘Never Open That Door’ was cut to the first two (morality) tales, with the third one (If I Should Die Before I Wake) released as a stand-alone feature. Both adapted from Cornell Woolrich’s (aka William Irish) writings, the parts of this ‘diptych’ are cinematically engaging spins on film noir, with ‘Somebody on the Phone’ playing out like a revenge thriller of sorts, and ‘The Humming Bird Comes Home’ blending suspense and poignancy in an astounding crime drama. Directed with a strong sense of mystery by prolific Argentinian filmmaker Carlos Hugo Christensen, they leave the viewer with some unanswered questions even after their twists are revealed, and the curtains are closed on the hypnotizing interplay of light and shadows... 
5. Si muero antes de despertar / If I Should Die Before I Wake (Carlos Hugo Christensen, 1952)
If ‘M’ had been told through the eyes of a child, the resulting film would’ve probably been pretty close to ‘If I Die Before I Wake’. A sensitive topic of pedophilia is dealt with utmost care by Christensen and the entire cast led by then 15-yo Néstor Zavarce, with fairy tale tropes skillfully weaved into the nightmarish story. Deeply resonating with it are the expressive cinematography by Pablo Tabernero, sweeping score by Julián Bautista, and exquisite production design by Gori Muñoz, most memorable for the surrealistic opening and dream sequences.
6. Death Machine (Stephen Norrington, 1994)
If you’re looking for a super-cool B-movie refreshment that features ‘killer’ animatronics, Rachel Weisz’s cameo debut, a bunch of nerdy references, and Brad Dourif as a mad scientist or, I quote, ‘a prime example of acute violent psychosis, allied to extreme technical virtuosity’, then you probably know how I’m gonna end this sentence. Add to that a good sense of humor and suspense matched to stylish cinematography, and you have one of the most impressive directorial debuts from a special FX expert turned filmmaker.
7. O Bobo / The Jester (José Álvaro Morais, 1987)
The hypnotic ‘talkiness’ of Duras meets picturesque theatricality of Monteiro’s ‘Silvestre’, with the effective use of primary colors – red and blue in particular – bringing the 60’s Godard to one’s mind. There’s also something Ruizian about those time-jumps, yet José Álvaro Morais’s fiction debut stands on its offbeat own. A heady, ‘art imitates life and vice versa’ mixture of a melancholic ‘memorial’, temperamental break-up drama, and politically charged intrigue set against a high-profile staging of medieval novel ‘The Jester’ by Alexandre Herculano (1810-1877), the feature is deeply rooted in Portuguese history which will certainly befuddle many uninitiated viewers (such as myself), and simultaneously leave a strong, lasting impression, by virtue of purely cinematic artifices.
8. AGGRO DR1FT (Harmony Korine, 2023)
The first Harmony Korine’s offering to pique my interest is an audacious take on crime genre – thin on plot, but thick on trippin’ inner monologuing, and even thicker on mesmerizing thermal imaging further elevated to a whole new ‘phantasmagorical video game’ level through the use of augmented reality effects, and what can be described as ‘living AI tattoos’. A zero-fucks-given meeting point between low-brow and high-brow art, it plunges the viewer into a demonically somnambulist version of Miami underbelly – a hallucinogenic sea of iridescent colors tamed by the inebriating haze of ambient electronica and whispery voices. Although not as radical, or alchemical as Daniel & Clara’s 2016 mysterious fantasy ‘In Search of the Exile’ which achieves the ‘infrared vision’ looks through a more elaborate / layered experimentation, ‘AGGRO DR1FT’ is a peculiar chunk of postmodern cinema – a sourly sweet treat for the adventurous. 
9. Des Teufels Bad / The Devil’s Bath (Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala, 2024)
‘Shot on glorious 35mm’, as noted in the ending credits, the third feature from Franz & Fiala (Goodnight Mommy, The Lodge) brims with stills you wish to frame and hang on the wall of a gallery (many kudos to cinematographer and Jessica Hausner’s frequent collaborator Martin Gschlacht). The film’s sublime visual beauty is only matched by the heaviness of its ominously autumnal atmosphere – a reflection of its heroine’s troubled state of mind, untreated in an isolated 18th century environment of religious dogmatism, day-to-day grind, in-laws’ oppression, and patriarchal toxicity. A harrowing, slow-burning examination of crippling depression, ‘The Devil’s Bath’ is a severely unsettling character study, at turns psychologically draining and viscerally relentless, firmly anchored in the devastatingly dedicated performance from Anja Plaschg.
10. Dead Whisper (Conor Soucy, 2024)
Not the first, nor the last indie gothic deeply rooted in its protagonist’s grieving, ‘Dead Whisper’ is an eerie slow-burner that plunges the viewer into a surrealistic nightmare of a Cape Cod lawyer, Elliot Campbell (a stellar turn from Samuel Dunning), lured to a mysterious island – a domain of a demonic entity dubbed The Historian (Rob Evan, creepy from the apparitional get-go) – where the soul of his baby daughter may reside. Set some time in the past, with no cellphone in sight, this bleak and chilling psychological drama marks the feature debut for writer/director/editor Conor Soucy whose keen sense of dense atmosphere is wonderfully matched by Ben Grant’s taut frame composition often channeling the spirit of Andrew Wyeth, as well as by Nikhil Koparkar’s broodingly ominous score harmonized with desaturated colors of the steely palette.
Honorable Mention: The Blue Rose (George Baron, 2023)
Written, directed and starring 18-yo (!) George Baron, ‘The Blue Rose’ is a flawed, yet admirable feature debut – an oddball ‘pastel noir’ heavily influenced by David Lynch. However, despite the title that is an obvious reference to the character of Lil from ‘Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me’, and a plethora of visual cues borrowed from Lynch’s oeuvre (Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, Rabbits), the film is not Lynchian, but a bizarre beast of its own. Existing in an alternate (purgatorial?) reality of the 50’s, and taking frequent turns to Dreamland, it plays out – largely in a camp register – like a mystery that isn’t too keen on being solved, as it weaves the themes of gender, identity, oppression, and artistic integrity into a twisted narrative. Brimming with colorful imagery filled with red herrings (and blue triangles), and accompanied by ethereal tunes, it is a promising starting point for a young filmmaker.
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