Abertoir — A–Z of films

Øvredal takes a handful of old tricks - a cheery song playing unexpectedly, lights blinking out in a corridor one by one, the tinkling of a bell - and uses them to chilling effect. The result is a film you really won't want to watch alone.

The inventiveness of the crew and Lucio Fulci's singular vision raise it well above most genre work of the period and make it well worth checking out.

To assume it's just another routine serial killer yarn is to miss the emotional subtlety and sharp analysis of contemporary Japanese mores that underlie the greater horror.

Walker's performance as a woman mentally imprisoned by the strength of her own feelings is painful to watch, in a good way.

Simple things like a radio suddenly switching on, a wine glass falling to the floor, or an insistent knocking at the door are an object lesson to contemporary horror’s blood-soaked tyros.

I Am Not A Serial Killer strikes rhythmic beats with precision as the story progresses.

There is smoke, there is a cauldron, there is an altar of sorts and there is a not very Grand Wizard who looks like someone who has crawled out from inside a bin lorry.

It’s flashy and glossy where the original was fetid and grubby, winking at the audience where Lustig wallowed in the misery to memorable effect.

Lucio Fulci's audaciously sleazoid slasher is designed to provoke as much outrage as possible, but it also just about cuts it as a classically-styled giallo thriller.

Gillespie and Kostanski's real talents become visible when it comes to the special effects work, and here the film excels.

There is less concern here with logic than with mood.