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Films with scenes more repulsive that the average viewer can handle.
This cinematic nightmare is so chock full of terrifying sights and sounds you'd think any gore would pale in comparison to the twisted, creepy atmosphere. However, I think genital mutilation is always going to be a reliable source of repulsiveness. So take your pick! Female self-castration with scissors (in extreme close-up) or testicle crushing via firewood (with a bloody climax... literally).
Hopefully you don't have a weaker stomach than Udo Kier's pathetic, sickly Dracula, who projectile vomits blood for several minutes straight after making the mistake of feeding on a non-virgin. A close runner up would be the sight of him resorting to lapping up a bloody puddle off the floor, the result of Joe Dallesandro forcibly deflowering (i.e. raping) a teenage girl.
David Cronenberg had developed a reputation by the mid-80s for his blood-drenched gorefests, though most mainstream critics at the time failed to see the underlying social commentary and psychological themes underneath the blood and guts. It wasn't until higher profile projects like The Fly and Naked Lunch that he really got the respect as a filmmaker that he deserved (outside the horror fan crowd, anyway). The Brood was an early feature for Cronenberg, but he has yet to top its pure visceral horror, with feral, androgynous children viciously attacking anyone with whom their mother is displeased. There's plenty of blood and ripped open faces. The zenith of repulsiveness, however, comes when the mother of the brood (Samantha Eggar) bites open the chrysalis-like external womb and proceeds to lick the bloody infant mutant clean. Writing about it right now makes me nauseous.
This unrelentingly weird and creepy nightmare from the deepest and darkest corner of David Lynch's psyche is like being transported to another planet. Your sense of reality is warped for hours after sitting through it. Once your mind has been twisted and reprogrammed by the sheer dementia of it all, the vile, putrescent finale becomes the kind of experience from which you would normally wake up screaming.
In 1960, this film was the most outlandish gorefest ever seen. It has not lost much of its visceral power in over fifty years, and the gruesome imagery that appears onscreen with wild abandon was unsurpassed until a little film from Pittsburgh came along in 1968 and claimed the title for itself. A sequence of still shots showing the deterioration of Edith Scob's face is so effective you can almost smell the gangrenous flesh.
This one has so much blood and guts it's hard to pick one scene that's more disgusting than another. The Baron molesting his female creature via her gall bladder? His half-assed attempt to re-attach his severed hand (before chucking it at Little Joe)? Nah, I'm inclined to go with the male creature's extremely impractical method of suicide by self-disembowelment.
Do I need to even narrow it down? The coprophagia? The rape? The mutilation? I'd say the feces feast takes the cake for this one. But not by much.
This movie has so many genuinely funny moments in the first two-thirds of its running time you almost forget what it's about. When a serial killer and the film crew documenting his exploits invade a home and apparently all take part in the torture and murder of a young couple (whom they have interrupted making love), the horrific footage of the aftermath is a sobering wake up call. The laughs are few and far between after that moment, perhaps as they should be.
This brilliant, satirical action/sci-fi epic is full of violence so insanely over-the-top it almost becomes slapstick. Almost. Be it a hapless office worker being blown to smithereens by a giant robot or a hand being blasted apart with a shotgun, there's plenty of grisly violence to satiate the gore aficionados. But it's the post toxic waste demise of Emil that remains seared in my brain. It's one of those rare movie moments that is so shocking you actually can't believe you just saw it.
Makavejev's nearly non-stop barrage of everything taboo and perverse is thrown at you faster than your brain can process it. It all winds up making some sort of sense in the end (I think) but it's a rough ride getting there. I can take competitive defecation and urination as a means of foreplay, but the adult baby writhing around in every bodily fluid imaginable is way frigging gross.
"I have something I want to play for you." David Cronenberg's masterpiece is full of bizarre, surreal imagery, but none is more shockingly quease-inducing than the moment in which Barry Convex shoves a videotape into the vaginal like orifice in Max Renn's stomach. At that moment one can only wonder, "How the hell did we arrive here?"