George A. Romero, Godfather of living dead men and big, bad rep behind Night, Day and Dawn of zombie cinema is probably Deadtime Stories‘ sole draw-card, and no doubt the only thing to compel any compos mentis horror fan to suffer through its bore/gorefest ridiculousness.

Two American girls become separated on a biking trip through the remote backroads of rural Argentina. Cue cautionary tale slathered with a healthy ol’ dose of girl-on-girl gore? Not quite. Beyond an opening scene vaguely suggestive of electrocution, and a (more tortuous) rendition of the Divinyls’ ‘I Touch Myself’ this is, by no means, the material from which to get one’s bloodlusty jollies.

A ghost story by design and a human drama at its core, Lake Mungo explores the painful psychology of loss, and our collective inability to explain the blurred space between life and death. It’s rather good.

A straight-to-DVD prize, where perinatal horror and unnaturally large nipples eclipse murder, paranoia and preternatural possession into insignificant mundanity. There’s little else to say, really, except to ask if we really needed another reason to fear the gory joys of pregnancy?

While legions of Britons celebrated the monarchical nuptials via half-price champers ‘n cucumber-sandwiched exercises in vicariousness, April 29th saw a dissenting faction hanging with the real royalty – in an evening enchanted by torture-porn vignettes, the virtues of Driller Killer(s) and a good ol’ 70s creepshow…

Nightmare Movies: Horror On Screen Since the 1960s is the third edition in what has come to be regarded as a “true classic of cult film criticism”. Published in 1985, the original Nightmare Movies was an essential guide to contemporary horror, and, twenty years later, the newest edition is just as indispensible for today’s discerning horror enthusiast.

It’s time to don the corpse paint and bullet belts, because Adult Swim’s Metalocalypse is back to wreak Deth and commercialised destruction upon the masses – and Season 3 promises to be just as totally freakin’ brutal as the first two instalments.

Shhhiiiiiiittt.

Imagine a scenario in which movie execs decided that the cast of Gossip Girl resembled something akin to actual actors…now picture an insidious conspiracy in which these cast members began to appear in actual films, based solely upon this diabolical premise of untruth. Alas, you are not the first to envision such a hideous reality – someone has beaten you to it, and The Roommate is that very nightmare.

The oddity compounds.