Film Utopia

The Dario Argento retrospective reaches its final chapter, and after five decades of black gloves, elaborate murders, supernatural nightmares and increasingly questionable career decisions, Steven and Sean arrive at the 2010s and beyond to discover whether the maestro still has anything left in the tank.

This time around, we tackle The Mother of Tears (2007), Giallo (2009), Dracula 3D (2012) and Dark Glasses (2022). And while neither of us is about to pretend we've stumbled across another Suspiria, there are some genuine surprises along the way.

The Mother of Tears proves far more enjoyable than either of us expected. It has its flaws, but there's enough imagination, atmosphere and sheer Argento thrills to make the final chapter of the Three Mothers trilogy a surprisingly welcome return to form.

Then comes Giallo, which manages the seemingly impossible: a film about a serial killer that is mind-numbingly boring. Its characters are so relentlessly uninteresting that even the murders struggle to wake us up.

Dracula 3D fares little better, although Sean is willing to concede that there is a certain so-bad-it's-good charm lurking beneath the digital cobwebs. Steven remains entirely unconvinced, refusing to grant the film even the dubious honour of being entertainingly terrible.

Thankfully, Dark Glasses provides a modest but welcome upturn. It's not vintage Argento, but its pacey story, straightforward plotting and refreshing willingness to simply get on with the bloody thing make it an encouraging late-career effort.

And then, finally, we rank them all.

In a lengthy reverse-order countdown, Steven and Sean reveal their personal rankings of Argento's entire filmography and, at the very top, we finally discover the answer to the question we've been building towards for five episodes:

What is Sean's favourite Argento film? And what is Steven's?

Five decades. Five episodes. One retrospective. One director. Countless black gloves.

Join us for the final bloody curtain call for Dario Argento.

Our Dario Argento retrospective enters the 2000s, and, frankly, things have not improved.

In the fourth instalment of our five-part journey through Argento's theatrical and TV filmography, Steven and Sean tackle Sleepless (2001), The Card Player (2004) and Do You Like Hitchcock? (2005), before turning to Argento's two contributions to Mick Garris' Masters of Horror: Jennifer (2005) and Pelts (2006).

By this stage, the golden era is very much behind him, and neither Steven nor Sean find much here to get excited about. Sleepless arrives armed with Argento's familiar bag of tricks; elaborate murders, red herrings and a killer hiding in plain sight, but undermines itself with moronic characters, staggeringly poor performances and a red herring involving a dwarf serial-killer that has to be seen to be believed.

Then there's The Card Player, which looks suspiciously like it was shot on a broadcast television camera and appears to have been constructed around a simple filmmaking principle: if in doubt, show someone looking at a computer screen. Repeatedly.

Do You Like Hitchcock? fares little better, or, as Sean christens it, “Do You Like Shitcock?” With an utterly unlikeable protagonist, laughable Hitchcock references, Argento's increasingly distracting self-inserts and one of the most bafflingly stupid escape sequences we've ever encountered, there's plenty for us to sink our teeth into.

Thankfully, the Masters of Horror episodes Jennifer and Pelts provide a modest recovery. Neither represents a return to Argento's glory days, but both deliver what we're here for: nasty little horror stories, inventive premises, memorable gore and enough gruesome imagery to remind us that the old bastard still knows his way around a splatter set-piece.

So, come for the Argento retrospective, stay for the increasingly savage lambasting. The gloves are still black. The plots are increasingly questionable. And somewhere, somehow, someone is probably still looking at a computer screen.

Our journey through Dario Argento's filmography reaches the 1990s, a decade where even the director's most devoted admirers begin to admit the wheels wobble a little.

In this third chapter of our five-part retrospective, Steven and Sean revisit Argento's contribution to Two Evil Eyes (1990), before tackling Trauma (1993), The Stendhal Syndrome (1996), and The Phantom of the Opera (1998). For Sean, much of this decade proved to be unexplored territory, while Steven arrived armed with previous viewings and the hope that a fresh revisit might reveal a few overlooked gems.

If the 1970s gave us the birth of modern Giallo and the 1980s delivered operatic horror at its most stylish, the 1990s feel like Argento searching for a new identity. The results are... mixed.

We find plenty to admire in Trauma, a film that proudly wheels out many of Argento's signature obsessions; black-gloved killers, elaborate murders, enough red herrings to keep a fishmonger in business, and a mystery that constantly dares you to look in entirely the wrong direction. It's an entertaining ride, even if it occasionally loses its way.

The biggest surprise of the decade, however, is The Stendhal Syndrome. Both of us come away enormously impressed by its intelligent screenplay, unusual structure, psychological ambition, and one of Asia Argento's finest performances. It's a film that deserves far more attention than it typically receives and stands as the clear highlight of Argento's later career.

Then there's The Phantom of the Opera.

Good grief.

What should have been a lavish Gothic romance instead leaves us scratching our heads at its baffling character motivations, muddled storytelling, and narrative leaps that would make even Argento's most dreamlike films raise an eyebrow. Stylish? Occasionally. Entertaining? Debatable. Coherent? Absolutely not.

A fascinating decade of highs, lows, missed opportunities, and one genuinely underrated masterpiece as we chart the point where one of horror's greatest auteurs began taking a decidedly more uneven path.

The journey through Dario Argento's filmography continues as Steven and Sean arrive at what many consider the director's creative peak: the 1980s. If the previous decade established Argento as the master of Giallo, this one saw him push his style into ever stranger, more operatic territory, blending murder mysteries with supernatural horror and some of the most astonishing visuals ever committed to film.

This fortnight, we revisit Inferno (1980), Tenebrae (1982), Phenomena (1985), and Opera (1987); four films we both regard as belonging firmly within Argento's golden era, albeit for very different reasons.

We discuss Mario Bava's invaluable visual contributions to Inferno, marvel at Argento's uncanny ability to turn cats, rats, dogs, chimpanzees, and a flock of ravens into arbiters of murder, and celebrate Tenebrae as one of the most endlessly rewatchable Gialli ever made, packed with ingenious clues, glorious red herrings, and enough razor-blade carnage to satisfy the most blood-thirsty of horror fans

Sean declares his undying affection for Phenomena, revelling in its gloriously unhinged moments and fearless commitment to absolute lunacy. Steven... would love to enjoy it more, but his lifelong fear of insects keeps getting in the way.

Finally, we arrive at Opera: a breathtaking technical achievement featuring some of Argento's most inventive set pieces and one of his strongest murder mysteries. Steven considers it one of the director's finest hours, while Sean finds himself wishing its final act had landed with a little more conviction... and sense.

Stylish, surreal, blood-soaked, and unapologetically excessive, this is Argento firing on all cylinders. Every murder is a set piece, every clue is a trap, and every frame is painted like a nightmare.

The Italian Horror journey continues as Steven and Sean begin a brand-new five-part retrospective on the work of Dario Argento, charting his theatrical filmography decade by decade. With new episodes arriving fortnightly, we begin where it all started: the 1970s, the decade where Argento emerged with black-gloved killers, garish rooms, impossible camera movements, and enough stylised murder to permanently alter horror cinema.

For this first chapter we focus exclusively on Argento's theatrical horror and thriller output, leaving The Five Days and his television work on the sidelines, as we revisit The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, Cat O'Nine Tails, Four Flies on Grey Velvet, Deep Red, and Suspiria.

Ever the movie geeks they are, Steven and Sean come armed with plenty of background knowledge on both the films and Argento himself. Still, we attempt to approach these rewatches with fresh eyes and reassess what still works, what surprises us, and what decades of horror fandom may have built up in our minds.

There’s predictable admiration for Argento’s latter 70s masterpieces, with Deep Red and Suspiria receiving the sort of glowing praise they routinely inspire (expect the usual enthusiastic gushing over Suspiria). Elsewhere, battle lines are drawn over the Animals trilogy, with Steven proudly flying the flag for Cat O'Nine Tails, while Sean showers Four Flies on Grey Velvet with perhaps more affection than anyone reasonably should.

join us as we step into the first decade of one of horror cinema’s most influential and distinctive voices.

This month on Film Utopia, Sean drags a deeply reluctant Steven kicking and screaming into the blood-soaked world of cult Italian filmmaker Lucio Fulci. Sean, naturally, argues that Fulci was far more than just “the gore guy,” championing the dreamlike atmosphere, bleak surrealism, and nightmarish logic that made his films unlike anything else in horror cinema. Steven, meanwhile, stubbornly refuses to budge from his position that Fulci’s work is riddled with ropey dubbing, shonky production values, and unapologetic trashiness.

Thankfully, things remain surprisingly amicable as we work through a curated selection of Fulci’s horror, murder mystery, and Giallo work, including One on Top of the Other, A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin, Don’t Torture a Duckling, The Psychic, Zombie Flesh Eaters, City of the Living Dead, The Black Cat, The Beyond, The House by the Cemetery, The New York Ripper, Manhattan Baby, Conquest, Murder Rock, The Devil’s Honey, Aenigma, and A Cat in the Brain.

Along the way, we discuss Fulci’s evolution from stylish thriller director to the undisputed godfather of eyeball trauma, his fascination with surrealism and decay, his uneasy relationship with narrative coherence, and why his films continue to inspire horror fans decades later.

Dreamlike, gruesome, atmospheric, ridiculous, mesmerising. Lucio Fulci cinema is many things, but Steven would just prefer if at least one actor sounded like they were in the same room as each other.

This month on Film Utopia, Steven, Benjamin, and Sean head back to 1984, a year where blockbuster spectacle, cult oddities, and bleak-as-hell TV movies somehow all coexisted quite happily; and barely any were sequels or retreads. Hollywood, please take note!

As is tradition, we go month by month, revisiting the highs, the lows, the first watches, and the films that have aged like fine wine… or questionable milk. We also dig into the awards season, box office battles, and notable births, painting a full picture of a year that refused to sit still.

Sean once again flies the flag for the weird and wonderful, bringing deep cuts like Blastfighter, Razorback, and the soul-crushing Threads. Steven rolls out the encyclopaedia to spotlight the year’s busiest actors while indulging his love of 80s fantasy with nods to The NeverEnding Story and The Company of Wolves. Benjamin, naturally, lobs in a few curveballs—The Killing Fields and Top Secret! among them.

And of course, we pay tribute to the heavy hitters: Ghostbusters and Gremlins (released on the same day!!!), alongside The Terminator, Body Double, Beverly Hills Cop, Star Trek III, and Amadeus.

We wrap things up by revealing our personal Top 12s, our “Dirty Dozen” of the year, where nostalgia, taste, and mild chaos collide.

A packed, nostalgic trip through one of cinema’s most stacked years.

This month on Film Utopia, it’s Sean’s director pick, and he’s gone for a lean but fascinating body of work: Duncan Jones. With just four theatrical features, Steven, Benjamin, and Sean take the rare opportunity to slow things down and really get into the weeds.

We go deep on the quiet brilliance and existential ache of Moon, unpack the knotty mechanics and moral implications of Source Code (spare a thought for the poor bloke whose complete existence gets hijacked), and assess Warcraft as a surprisingly earnest attempt to wrangle decades of lore into something resembling a coherent blockbuster.

Then there’s Mute; a film that takes a hard left into some genuinely bleak territory, giving us plenty to chew on in terms of character, tone, and just how dark mainstream sci-fi is willing to get.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, we inevitably derail into an argument about Planet of the Vampires (again), with Benjamin doing a frankly questionable job as referee.

A thoughtful, occasionally chaotic deep dive into a filmmaker whose small output punches well above its weight.

The Italian Horror tour descends into velvet-draped madness as Steven and Sean tackle the horror legacy of Mario Bava; a filmmaker whose gorgeous lighting, elegant murders, and stunning brunettes didn’t just shape Gothic and Giallo cinema, but practically colour-graded it into existence.

Across first-time watches and long-standing favourites, we work our way through the candle-lit hallway of Bava’s greatest hits (and strangest detours), including Black Sunday, The Girl Who Knew Too Much, Black Sabbath, The Whip and the Body, Blood and Black Lace, Planet of the Vampires, Kill, Baby… Kill, Five Dolls for an August Moon, Hatchet for the Honeymoon, A Bay of Blood, Baron Blood, Lisa and the Devil, and Shock.

There’s glowing praise for Blood and Black Lace as the visual and structural blueprint for future Giallo, a heated debate over the ending of Planet of the Vampires (in which one host is categorically wrong but refuses to admit it), and a mutual lambasting of the 70s fashion choices of Baron Blood. We also dig into just how outrageously influential these films were, from A Bay of Blood basically inventing Friday the 13^th, to Planet of the Vampires laying the groundwork for Alien, and take several opportunities to respectfully swoon over Fabienne Dali, Barbara Steele, and especially Edwige Fenech, all while marvelling over Bava’s ability to make murder look impossibly cool.

Stylish, opinionated, and occasionally thirsty, join us for a tribute to one of horror’s true architects. Mario Bava. The man who made shadows dance, colours leap, and murder look like theatre.

Steven, Benjamin, and Sean wind the clock back to 1986 and take a month-by-month wander through one of the most eclectic, chaotic, and fondly remembered years in modern cinema.

From summer blockbusters to cult oddities, we revisit our first watches, reassess our long-held opinions, and shamelessly don the nostalgia goggles as each of us picks a favourite from every month of the year. Along the way, we celebrate the era-defining highs of Aliens, Highlander, The Fly, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Big Trouble in Little China, and gleefully tangle with the stranger corners of the year such as House, Troll, and The Golden Child.

There’s plenty of love for Labyrinth, Little Shop of Horrors, and The Three Amigos, and plenty of irritation from Steven when The Wraith inevitably enters the conversation.

We also take a detour through the 1986 awards season (what won, what didn’t, and what absolutely should have), alongside notable births, deaths, and the broader cultural context of the year.

A nostalgic, opinionated tour through a year when cinema swung for the fences, and often hit something wonderfully strange.

For this year’s Christmas episode, Film Utopia heads back to Middle-earth as Steven, Benjamin, and Sean tackle The Lord of the Rings Extended Editions in full – from The Fellowship of the Ring to The Return of the King. Not a misty-eyed holiday special, but a long, honest fireside reckoning with one of cinema’s most beloved trilogies.

While still a fan overall, Steven uses the extended runtime to reflect on the criticisms he’s developed over the years, particularly with Return of the King, from its ever-stretching length to its ageing CGI. Benjamin finds his affection for the finale has also waned, taking issue the Witch-king’s demise, and Smeagol’s transformation.

Sean remains the trilogy’s most steadfast defender Though he acknowledges many of the same flaws, his love for the films endures. Especially The Two Towers, much to Steven’s ongoing bafflement.

What IS unanimous, however, is the enduring brilliance of The Fellowship of the Ring: Ian McKellen’s Gandalf, the location shooting, Howard Shore’s iconic score, the majesty of Rivendell, and the purity of its single-journey structure remain untouchable.

Join us for a festive return to Middle-earth, brimming with admiration… and the occasional raised eyebrow.

This week on Film Utopia, Steven, Benjamin, and Sean hop in the cinematic time machine and cruise back to 1995, a year stacked so high with bangers, bruisers and cult classics that even John Doe would struggle to catalogue them.

We stroll month-by-month through our first-watch memories and rediscover why ‘95 was an all-timer. There’s expected reverence for Se7en, Casino, and Heat (the holy trinity of grimy crime masterpieces); love for Crimson Tide, 12 Monkeys, The Usual Suspects, and Strange Days, and even a warm salute for Tank Girl. Yes, even Steven, who has bizarrely softened on the film since his last watch.

From prestige thrillers to neon-splattered comic chaos, from time-travel gloom to mobster cool, 1995 gave us a cinematic buffet we’re still chewing on today.

With Benjamin off-world, Steven, Sean, and special guest Max suit up for a deep-dive reaction to Predator: Badlands. After a quick surveying of the state of the modern Disney/Trachtenberg-verse, touching on Prey and Predator: Killer of Killers, we zero in on the new film itself and each give our tuppence on this latest entry in one of our most beloved movie series’.

How does Badlands stack up against the broader Predator legacy? How does the series fare as a whole compared to other long-running favourites like Terminator and Alien? Short version: It’s holding it’s own better than most! We get into the Riddick-alike plot, the sound design, score, visual style, the Predator creature design, and even the evolving Predator language with largely positive remarks on all aspects. But looming over it all is the question we keep circling back to:

“It’s a tidy, punchy sci-fi action romp – but is this what we want from a Predator movie?”

This spooky season, Film Utopia sharpens its glove and dives head-first into the complete A Nightmare on Elm Street movie series; the final corner of what we lovingly call “the Big Four” of 80s horror, following our previous years’ deep dives into Halloween, Friday the 13th, and Hellraiser.

Steven, Benjamin, and Sean stalk their way through the original six films plus Wes Craven’s New Nightmare, Freddy vs Jason, and… yes, even that 2010 remake (which everyone happily agrees belongs in the bin).

Along the way, we chart Freddy’s evolution from terrifying dream-stalking boogeyman to latex-grinning stand-up comic, debate the best Elm Street entry (no one agrees), and celebrate the gloriously ridiculous mayhem of Freddy vs Jason. Sean compares Freddy’s Dead to Malcolm in the Middle, Benjamin vents his disdain for Part 4 and confesses he didn’t realise Tuesday Night’s Kristen was supposed to be the same character portrayed by Patricia Arquette, and Steven once again professes his love for New Nightmare - and shockingly defends Freddy’s Revenge!

Expect sharp claws, sharper opinions, and the cosy comfort of horror nostalgia. Sweet dreams…

Occasional Film Utopia collaborator and Alien nut Max joins Steven and Benjamin for their reaction to the new Disney+ series, Alien: Earth. With somewhat mixed expectations from the gang due to varying opinions on Disney's efforts with last year’s Alien: Romulus, will Noah Hawley’s series hit the spot, or will it be a nuked site from orbit?

From interesting plot points to bizarre design choices, underdeveloped characters to missed opportunities, have a listen to see what we think. Spoiler alert: it’s not great.

Film Utopia’s epic 1980s Fantasy retrospective reaches its end as Steven, Benjamin, and Sean look beyond their beloved decade to see what became of the genre in the years that followed. From Disney’s magical 90s renaissance to Tim Burton’s gothic daydreams, through to Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter reviving the genre in the 00s, we briefly trace fantasy’s evolution and slow retreat into remakes, reboots and rehashes.

There’s grumbling over The Hobbit, apprehension over The Hunt for Gollum, and tentative hope that Henry Cavill might manage to become “the only one” in the upcoming Highlander remake. Along the way, we wonder if modern fantasy has lost its daring spirit… and unanimously agree to return soon to tackle Middle-earth as a three man team.

Join us for our reflective wrap-up to our summer quest through the worlds of 80s fantasy and what came after!

Film Utopia’s summer quest reaches the tail end of the 1980s as Steven Benjamin, and Sean reminisce about the fantastical twilight of the decade. From the muscle-bound chaos of The Barbarians, to the satirical fairytale perfection of The Princess Bride, the surreal stop-motion wonder of Alice, the “best leave that one in childhood’s memory” Willow, and the gleeful absurdity of Erik the Viking, we explore how the fantasy boom began to wind down in the late 80s.

Steven’s love for The Princess Bride remains barely containable, Sean forgets yet more actor names, and Ben gleefully goads Steven into conceding that Masters of the Universe does, in fact, count as fantasy. Along the way, we tip our hats to fantasy-adjacent oddities like The Witches of Eastwick, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Big, Vice Versa, and Mannequin.

It’s a nostalgic, irreverent look back at the last hurrah of 80s fantasy. Equal parts insight, banter, and affectionate mockery.

The Film Utopia summer quest thunders onward as Steven, Benjamin, and Sean venture into the fantastical mid-80s; 1984 – 1986. An era when fantasy cinema became darker, more kid-friendly, and occasionally farcical.

From the dreamy surrealism of A Company of Wolves and the childlike wonder (and childhood trauma-inducing) The NeverEnding Story to the neon-drenched Dungeonmaster, the ever-present loincloth-clad barbarian sights of Red Sonja and Barbarian Queen, and the iconic delights of Legend, Labyrinth, Return to Oz, and Highlander, we dig into a treasure chest of magic, monsters, and questionable wigs.

Along the way, we bicker over whether Weird Science counts as fantasy, swoon over Clancy Brown’s Kurgan (with inevitable, but requisite impressions), and wax lyrical about the era’s unforgettable music; from Bowie’s magic to Queen’s immortal Highlander score, via Jerry Goldsmith vs. Tangerine Dream’s duelling Legend soundtracks.

Come join us for a trip aboard the nostalgia express as we take a wild ride through one of fantasy cinema’s boldest chapters.

The Film Utopia summer quest continues in this second instalment on fantasy cinema of the 1980s as Steven, Benjamin, and Sean tackle the shimmering, sword-swinging, and body oil-drenched years of 1980 to 1983.

From popular mainstays such as Hawk the Slayer (1980), Clash of the Titans (1981), Conan the Barbarian (1982), The Dark Crystal (1982) and Krull (1983), to side quests veering into the more eclectic cult offerings of Heavy Metal (1981), Conquest (1983), Deathstalker (1983), and Ironmaster (1983), we explore an exhaustive, yet somewhat curated list of muscle bound heroes, animatronic dragons, stop-motion mythical monsters, glistening boobs, and weirdly shifty wizards.

Along the way, we ponder why the fantasy boom of the ‘80s refused to die despite the genre’s apparent box office curse, and take great amusement in highlighting the genre’s many cliches. Namely the barely restrained outfits that seemed contractually obligated in the era. There’s also a spirited (and faintly absurd) debate over whether Flash Gordon (1980) counts as fantasy or if that’s heresy punishable by vivisection with The Glaive.

Prepare for deep cuts, big laughs, and a nostalgic adventure through the gloriously mad dawn of 80s fantasy cinema.

Before the loincloths, elf-muppets, crystal balls, dying horse trauma, and mullets of 80s fantasy cinema, there was… quite a lot, actually! In this opening episode of our new series on 1980s fantasy films, Steven, Benjamin and Sean gather round the mic to set the stage and trace the tangled narrative roots of fantasy, both on and off the screen, from a time before things got all neon-coloured and swordy.

We dive into everything from Ray Harryhaussen epics and surreal Euro-fairytales, to biblical epics, Bakshi’s animated LSD trips, Disney’s monopoly on German fairytales and folklore, and the unsettling brilliance of Jean Cocteau’s La Belle et la Bête (1946). There’s also time for myth, psychedelia, swords & sandals, and some classic self-pity as Steven once again laments his tragically cinema-deprived childhood.

As always, we’re unscripted, unfiltered, and occasionally unhinged. But always reliably off-topic.

So join us as we ask: How did fantasy cinema get here? And why did it explode (and flop) so gloriously in the 80s?

Steven and Sean continue their exploration of Italian genre cinema with a laid-back chat about the filmography of Lamberto Bava.

Unlike his father, horror maestro and Giallo godfather Mario Bava, Lamberto carved out his own unique legacy by straddling the line between art horror and sleaze – usually opting for the latter – with a mix of gore, kinetic pacing and trashy fun; trading in typical Giallo elegance for rubber demons, dodgy cash-in knock-offs, synth soundtracks, and pure VHS-era pulp.

On this episode we discuss Macabre (1980), A Blade in the Dark (1983), Blastfighter (1984), Devil Fish (1984), Demons (1985), You’ll Die at Midnight (1986), Demons 2 (1986), Delirium (1987) and Body Puzzle (1992).

Steven, Benjamin and Sean conclude their retrospective of the late director, David Lynch, and find themselves heavily in agreement in some areas of the auteur’s directorial filmography, but completely opposed in others. On this episode, we discuss Twin Peaks (1990 – 1992, 2017), Fire Walk With Me (1992), Lost Highway (1997), The Straight Story (1999), Mulholland Drive (2001), and Inland Empire (2006).

With the recent passing of auteur filmmaker David Lynch fresh in mind, Steven Benjamin and Sean reflect on the director’s legacy and discuss their thoughts on his innovative and influential theatrical filmography. In part one we cover Eraserhead (1977), The Elephant Man (1980), Dune (1984), Blue Velvet (1986) and Wild At Heart (1990).

With Amazon Studios now in control of the Bond franchise, we thought we’d share our hopes and fears for the future of 007. At least, that’s how this episode was originally planned! However, as Sean wasn’t part of our original Bond retrospective review series back in 2015 that we’ve just republished over the last 10 days, we have decided to hear out his ranked list of the 25 Eon produced Bond films, in ascending order, while Steven and Benjamin chime in with any updated opinions they have of each film as well as lambast Sean for his placement of certain films in the series! At the end of the episode we talk a little about what we originally planned, and lament over the direction we assume Amazon will be taking James Bond.