Videodrome: The Prophecy About the Screen

Thu, 16 Apr 2026 09:00:00 +0000

Some films age into their meaning. Videodrome was a commercial disappointment in 1983 — a strange, sticky, unclassifiable thing that confused audiences who wanted either a clean horror picture or a clean idea and got neither. Then the world caught up with it. Watch it now, in a house full of screens that watch back, and David Cronenberg’s fever about television reads like a document that was simply filed forty years early. It is a horror film, an addiction study, and a piece of media theory that happens to have a pulsing, breathing videocassette in it, and the reason it endures is that its central worry has only grown truer.

Ganja & Hess: The Art-House Vampire Film Nobody Financed Twice

Mon, 02 Feb 2026 09:00:00 +0000

There is a particular kind of movie miracle that only happens when someone hands an artist the wrong brief and looks away for eighteen months. In 1972 Blacula had made money, and the small outfit Kelly-Jordan Enterprises wanted their own Black vampire picture to ride the wave. They gave the job to Bill Gunn — playwright, novelist, actor, a genuine New York intellect — and Gunn took the money and made something that has almost nothing to do with the assignment. Ganja & Hess is a vampire film the way a fever dream is a nap. It played the 1973 Cannes Critics’ Week, one of the very few American films chosen that year, and the audience is said to have applauded for a good long while. Then it came home, and the people who paid for it did not recognise what they had bought.

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Videodrome: The Prophecy About the Screen

Ganja & Hess: The Art-House Vampire Film Nobody Financed Twice