Iconic & Memorable Movie Death Scenes. Tomorrow sees the release of “The ABCs Of Death,” a new horror anthology from some of the top new names in the genre, with a fairly similar premise: 2. From the apocalypse to Zetsumetsu, there’s all kinds of inventive ways to be offed across its two- hour running time, and it’s sure to keep gorehounds entertained, as our review suggested, even if horror neophytes might be left scratching their heads. But for all the passings on screen in “The ABCs of Death,” it doesn’t seem likely that any will really enter cinema history. Death is just about the most dramatic thing that can happen, and as such, is at the heart of many great films and some of cinema’s most iconic shots and moments involve one character or another popping off their mortal coil, either peacefully or not. So, to celebrate the release of “The ABCs of Death,” we’ve put together a firmly non- comprehensive list of some of the most memorable, iconic demises in the history of cinema. Horror movie news, reviews features and message boards. Horror scores are for life, not just for Halloween. Don’t believe us? Get to know these 100 chilling horror soundtracks, ranked in order of greatness. Read all the hottest movie news. Get all the latest updates on your favorite movies - from new releases to timeless classics, get the scoop on Moviefone. Tomorrow sees the release of “The ABCs Of Death,” a new horror anthology from some of the top new names in the genre, with a fairly similar premise: 26 directors. Cinema is loaded with great death scenes that evoke sympathy or anger or even laughter. But it's also loaded with death scenes that just leave us scratching our heads. Bromhead who must work alongside Lt. John Chard played by Stanley Baker while they. Take a look below, and let us know your personal favorites in the comments section. Clutching his chest, Hurt starts to violently rock back and forth and then his chest explodes in a fountain of bright red blood – even more shocking against his white uniform (according to Veronica Cartwright — who plays Lambert — nobody told the cast how much blood there’d be, but the crewmembers were covering themselves in plastic sheets). At that point a slimy little monster squiggles out of his chest cavity and skitters across the table. The rest of the Nostromo crew – and the audience – is left in stunned silence, shocked by what was just witnessed. When “Alien” opened in 1. Star Wars,” and this was a far nastier beast altogether. Co- writer Dan O’Bannon said that he wanted to scare the men in the audience by including imagery meant to recall forced oral rape and having something born out of a man, instead of a woman. It didn’t just scare the men.“Apocalypse Now”The death of Marlon Brando. Having acclimatised to the jungle complex where Kurtz has set himself up as a chief, Willard realises he has to kill the colonel if he is ever to leave. He makes his way through the swamp stealthily to evade the tribesmen, who revere Kurtz as a god. The Doors’ “The End” drones endlessly and the sound of tribal ritual fills the air. He creeps into the temple where, inevitably, Kurtz is waiting for him. Brando’s extraordinary voice intones, seemingly to himself: “We train young men to drop fire on people. But their commanders won’t allow them to write fuck on their airplanes because. We see intercut flashes of the tribal villagers sacrificing a caribou, hacking the beast limb from limb. Kurtz seems supernaturally resistant, and Willard goes into a frenzy, eventually dropping the enormous, bald- headed Colonel to the floor where the cacophonous soundtrack suddenly drops away into silence, and he utters the immortal line, “The horror. The horror.” Willard finds Kurtz’s writings, pays his respects and walks, in total silence through the awestruck crowd of tribespeople, to collect his drug- addled comrades and sail back up the river. As they set off, the army radio chattering into contact, Willard stares impassively into the darkness, the final words of Kurtz echoing forever in his mind.“Bambi”Few movie deaths have become as ingrained in the popular culture quite like the off- screen murder of Bambi’s mother in Disney. It’s become a rite of passage for small children everywhere to gather round a television and watch Bambi run through the forest before a crackling shotgun blast snuffs out his mom. As little Bambi shouts, “Mother, mother” with snow swirling around him, only the toughest kids on the block were able to keep a straight face (while they died on the inside). Suffice it to say, he decided it was far too graphic for children. But really, what is it about the death of Bambi’s mom that is so traumatizing? No child wants to confront the death of their mother, their provider, head- on and yet “Bambi” forces children to get their first taste of death, whether they like it or not. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c- beams glitter in the dark near the Tannh. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.” The dying speech of Rutger Hauer’s Roy Batty in Ridley Scott. He has escaped from his enslavement, and come to hide out on Earth with a band of fellow escapees. The Blade Runner of the title, disaffected cop Rick Deckard, is tasked with hunting and “retiring” him in the neo- noir megalopolis of 2. Los Angeles. Hauer apparently improvised the speech, slashing the original script the night before filming, unbeknownst to director Ridley Scott. Everything about it is note- perfect, the neon fug and smoky gloom above future LA, the rain lashing down, Hauer’s sublime delivery, and the ebb and twinkle of the sublime Vangelis score. It’s pure cinematic poetry.“Bonnie & Clyde” You’re hardly spoiled for choice when it comes to death by gunfire in the movies. There’s James Caan. Moss, the criminal duo (Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway) don’t know that his father (Dub Taylor) has given them up to the authorities. Sharing a Garden Of Eden- ish apple, they stop to help Moss Sr. The pair share one last look of love before they’re positively riddled with machine- gun fire. Lasting a full twenty seconds, it’s the first true bullet ballet, the pair dancing like marionettes (Penn cannily cutting between slow- motion and normal speed) as their life is blasted out of them. It’s grisly (the early shot of Clyde’s scalp being blown off was inspired by the assassination of JFK), unsentimental, and a fitting conclusion to the picture that reinvented the crime film. For much of the running time of the film (which might be Haneke’s most accessible, to some degree at least), Georges (Daniel Auteuil) has been menaced by mysterious videotapes of his home, tapes which initially seem to lead to Majid (Maurice Benichou), an Algerian- born man of his age, whose parents worked for Georges’ wealthy family. Majid denies any involvement, but later invites Georges back to his apartment. He politely invites him, and then calmly, and shockingly, slits his own throat, causing a giant spurt of blood up the wall. It’s a giant and unnerving surprise (one that caused the audience we saw it with, and we suspect audiences worldwide, to gasp in unison), and even once Georges explains to his wife Anne (Juliette Binoche) the history between him and Majid, it still seems unfathomable in its violence, and all the more so for being the pressure valve on Haneke’s creeping pressure cooker of a film. Still, there’s one canny shock moment that’s ensured it’ll live on in cinema lore. Once the sharks have broken out, but before the bloodshed really gets underway, Samuel L. Jackson gives a speech to pull the team together. Hinting at a terrible incident in his past after an avalanche, it’s a knowing nod to Quint’s Indianapolis speech in “Jaws.” But before Jackson can finish up: BANG. A shark leaps out of the water, and pulls Jackson (or, more accurately, an unconvincing CGI facsimile of Jackson) back in with him, turning the water blood red. It’s a cheap trick but, in killing off the most recognizable face without so much as a warning, an effective one, leaving theater audiences in nervous laughter, and with all bets off as to who else might survive the super- sharks (Spoiler: it’s Thomas Jane and LL Cool J, test audiences having hated Saffron Burrows. Strangelove”Most of the films on this list deal with a single death (even if the person or people responsible have already killed, or will do so again). To some degree, that’s true of our pick from “Dr. Strangelove,” but it’s also notable in that that one death also turns out to cause billions, by all intents and purposes. After General Jack D. Ripper (Sterling Hayden) loses his marbles and orders an attack on the Soviet Union, the President (Peter Sellers, in one of three performances) and his War Room desperately try to order them back. They manage to recall most of them, but one is left without a radio — the bomber commanded by Major T. J. He reaches a new target, in Kodlosk, but the release mechanism fails. Determined to wreak A- bomb wrath on the Soviets, Kong climbs aboard the bomb, fixes it, and plummets out with it as the bomb doors open. Kubrick’s camera follows Pickens down, as he waves his cowboy hat, bomb phallically placed between his legs. It’s a potent (pun intended) picture of American machismo and nationalism, and the costs that come with it, and damn funny to boot.“Jaws”Quint (Robert Shaw), the grizzled shark expert in Steven Spielberg. So his death, towards the end of Steven Spielberg’s rollickingly horrific romp, is thrilling as well as poignant – it’s the dark fate that Quint has been avoiding for decades, finally coming to bite him (literally). Quint is a born fighter, though, and doesn’t go out without taking out his knife and stabbing the giant killer shark. It’s also a spectacularly gruesome death, with huge spouts of blood. He’s a monster in an unforgiving world. He can’t be contained, and if so, would spend the rest of his life bound and chained whilst being a spectacle for public consumption. When he finally goes on a rampage, it’s not meant to be malicious, but out of a desire to escape from being on display and controlled. As Kong climbs the Empire State Building, itself a symbol of American capitalism, idealism, and man’s quest for greatness, we see Kong as he is, as the literal “Eighth Wonder of the World.” Man does not need to dream of creating huge metal towers when we have something as wondrous as Kong to make it look insignificant. However, this moment of largesse is not meant to be, and Kong is destroyed (shot down by airplanes, further emphasis of man. Was it really “beauty killed the beast,” or man’s inability to see beauty in a beast?
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