See, I have this landlord who's obsessed with french decadence

Opening with the divine Carolyn Jones as "The Existentialist" (1957, same year that saw Audrey Hepburn pursue Epathicalism in Funny Face). Yes, I'd nominate that. Followed by the truly baffling Italian silent L'uomo meccanico.

A sinister robot with a roman nose under the control of the mad Mado.

And what's better than a murderous, lecherous mechanical man? Two mechanical men.

And better than that? A mechanical man with next to nude women.

And so on to the really painful part of the evening, The Cry of the Banshee. Ok, there were witches tit but they cheesed on the banshee, or whatever and what does it mean that they can "make you die a minute every day for a year"? Wouldn't you live longer that way? It did have Hugh Griffith. Say, anybody seen Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mama's Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad? He was in that too.

Hang on, almost forgot Bill Shatner.

How is that even possible? How desperate (or doped) was he to get involved in the Esperanto epic The Incubus? Apparently only a french subtitled copy of this cursed opus has survived to foist itself on the innocent. Damn French.