No-one made horror films like Lucio Fulci. Even when the material was nothing more than cooked up spaghetti gore and hoary cliche he still managed to produce creepy, doom laden masterpieces, with atmosphere you could carve like a fillet of beef. City of the Living Dead doesn't disappoint; the incoherent and incomprehensible narrative borrows widely from Lovecraft and EC comics and simply serves to connect a series of startling images and twisted set peices, all served up with lashings of claret and the Fulci trademarks; close ups of darting eyes and dry lips, maggot ridden ghouls ambling slowly through inexplicable mists and a finale that leaves the audience as much in the dark as the characters. The gore scenes are close to visual poetry, at least as far as horror cinema can make any claim to the poetic. Indeed the film contains my own personal favourite sequence of any horror film; a necking couple in a car break off their groping as the mysterious priest again materialises, dangling from a tree outside the window, and suddenly the girls eyes begin to bleed before she vomits up her entire alimentary canal and finishes in style by pulling her boyfriends brains out of the back of his head. You can't buy the experience of seeing that for the first time with money... John Morghen (who you may remember ended up deep throated quite literally in Cannibal Ferox) also gets a drilling headache fixed with a drastic bit of home trepanning in another famous sequence. Both of these scenes were cut, or at least heavily edited, up until very recently (kept the film off the video nasties list); take advantage of the more relaxed censorship we've been having of late and enjoy a great peice of Italian grue. We owe it to the maestro.