The Greatest Movies We'll Never Watch Again

War is hell, and while no film can truly capture the horrors of battle, "The Deer Hunter" does a pretty good job of taking moviegoers into the ninth circle. Directed by Michael Cimino, this 1978 epic follows a trio of blue-collar steelworkers who can't wait to see action in Vietnam. But when they finally descend into the jungle, they're put through the worst tortures imaginable — and the trauma doesn't stop once they come back home.

The movie opens innocently enough, with our three leads — Mike (Robert De Niro), Nick (Christopher Walken), Steven (John Savage) — celebrating at a wedding and joyously preparing for war. They ignore the grim warning from a shaken Green Beret, and when they're finally tossed into the jungle, they wind up smack dab in one of the most horrific movie scenes of all time: the Russian roulette sequence. Captured by the Viet Cong, the friends are forced to play the suicidal game for the amusement of their guards, and the acting here is so intense that it feels like a genuine snuff film.

After a devastating "rescue attempt," Mike is haunted by grief when he returns to the States. Steven loses both his legs and spends the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Nick's sanity comes crashing down, leaving him to wander through Saigon, lost in a fog of heroin and Russian roulette matches. It all culminates with that final tragic game and the saddest rendition of "God Bless America" you'll ever hear ... and never want to hear against because it hurts too much.

All David Lynch movies feel a little dreamlike, but "Inland Empire" is pure subconscious surrealism — a cinematic fugue state that lasts over three hours. It's a movie critics describe as "practically impossible to review in a newspaper" and "never less than intriguing but often close to inaccessible." It's like you've stumbled straight into Lynch's worst nightmares.

For some fans, this might sound like an awesome experience, but for most moviegoers, "Inland Empire" feels like the world's worst acid trip. And we don't mean that in a fun, "Yellow Submarine" kind of way. It's definitely worth watching once, but when it's over, you might be too overwhelmed to give it another shot.

The plot — and we're using that term super loosely — involves an actress named Nikki Grace (Laura Dern, in a tour de force performance) who's set to star in a film called "On High in Blue Tomorrows," a movie with a haunted history. As Nikki gets deeper into her part, the lines between fact and fiction blur, and suddenly, she can't tell the difference between her role and real life. Past that, well, we're not really sure what's happening.

The movie is an impenetrably slow descent into a world of red lights, ambient noises, and digital camerawork. And while you can always appreciate Lynch's avant-garde genius, Inland Empire provides more questions than answers. What's up with the talking rabbits? What's the deal with that clown phantom in the hallway? Why are those sex workers all dancing to "The Locomotion"? Why is Grace Zabriskie so terrifying in everything she's in?

Okay, maybe Inland Empire doesn't give any answers at all.

Directed by Ben Wheatley, "Kill List" is a creepy British film that mashes the brutal violence of "Oldboy" with the pagan horror of "The Wicker Man." It's hard to finish the first time, and too terrifying to ever try and hit again.

Released in 2011, "Kill List" stars Neil Maskell as Jay, a soldier-turned-assassin who's fallen on hard times. He's got money problems, relationship troubles, and some serious PTSD. But things start looking up when he gets a gig to pick off three easy targets. However, whenever he shows up to put a cap in his victims, they start thanking him for the privilege of dying by his hand. It's more than a little unsettling, and soon, Jay realizes he's in the center of an occult conspiracy that demands a lot of blood and some really big sacrifices.

Ben Wheatley films are never easy to watch — see "High-Rise" and "A Field in England" for proof — but "Kill List" is an all-out assault on the senses. Not only is it one of the most suspenseful movies ever made, but Wheatley knows how to craft a disturbing sequence. If you've seen it once, then you probably have no desire to revisit that truly upsetting hammer scene. The final showdown with a group of naked pagans is pure nightmare fuel, but it's the final few minutes that will leave you reeling. We won't spoil the ending, but after you watch it once, you probably won't ever watch it again, because this is a horror film that stabs you in the back and leaves you gutted.

When it comes to portraying pain, there's no one quite like Casey Affleck. Maybe it's those mournful eyes or his husky, cracking voice. Whatever the reason, Affleck can emote some serious sad vibes, and the man is at the top of his depressing game in "Manchester by the Sea."

Affleck plays Lee Chandler, a handyman who's cut himself off from the world. The only time he interacts with people is when he's picking fights at the bar. However, Lee is forced out of hiding when his brother dies from a cardiac arrest. Naturally, Lee has to return to his hometown to arrange the funeral and care for his nephew Patrick (Lucas Hedges). But while he's going to do his brotherly duty, Lee wants out of that town ASAP. There's some bad history here in Manchester-by-the-Sea, and everywhere Lee goes, he sees ghosts from his past.

Eventually, we discover why Lee hates his hometown and why he's a depressed, angry shell of a man. One evening, after a night of drinking, Lee accidentally started a fire that killed his two kids. Unable to deal with the pain, Lee divorced his wife (Michelle Williams) and has done his best to disappear. For a moment, it seems like the bond he's forming with his nephew might save him from his past, but this ain't no Hallmark movie. In the film's final act, Lee admits that he "can't beat" the depression and guilt. They will haunt him every day for the rest of his life.

There are no easy solutions or feel-good endings here, and while "Manchester by the Sea" is a beautiful film, wallowing in all that misery a second time sounds like the most painful two hours you could ever spend.

Yorgos Lanthimos is a unique and brilliant filmmaker, but his movies always make you squirm in your seat. When it comes to watching his films, once is enough, especially "The Killing of a Sacred Deer" — a story of human cruelty and divine wrath.

Colin Farrell plays a cold-hearted heart surgeon named Steven Murphy whose fondness for the bottle contributed to the death of a patient. Steven refuses to admit any wrongdoing, and that's just not going to sit with the patient's son, an unusual teen by the name of Martin Lang (Barry Keoghan). There's something off about Martin. Maybe it's his matter-of-fact style of speaking. Maybe it's the way he eats spaghetti. Or maybe it's his godlike power to curse Steven's entire family.

As part of his revenge scheme, Martin tells Steven all his family members are going to die of a mysterious illness. They'll become paralyzed, and then they'll refuse to eat. And after they start bleeding from their eyes, they'll drop like flies. The only way Steven can stop this plague is by killing a member of his family. Lanthimos shows us every excruciating detail as Steven's children violently collapse and drag themselves across the floor. The movie gets even darker when the kids turn on each other, begging their father to kill their sibling. The desperation, the betrayal, the blood — it's all so cruel, and it culminates in one of the most disturbing climaxes ever filmed.

Horrific in ways that no slasher film could ever achieve, "The Killing of a Sacred Deer" is a powerful film that you won't watch more than once. Instead, you'll want to put a curse on whoever recommended the film to you in the first place.

Ryan Coogler and Michael B. Jordan have made some incredibly rewatchable films. "Black Panther" is one of Marvel's most entertaining movies, and "Creed" is practically flawless. However, "Fruitvale Station" is a little bit different — Coogler's first film is a powerful story that everybody should watch at least once, but that doesn't mean you'll want to revisit it anytime soon, especially if "Fruitvale Station" hits close to home.

Based on a tragic true event, "Fruitvale Station" tells the story of Oscar Grant (Jordan), a 22-year-old man who was killed by a Bay Area Rapid Transit officer in 2009. And that's not a spoiler: The movie starts with actual footage of the shooting, so for the rest of the film, we know what we're building toward. We watch Oscar bonding with his daughter and connecting with strangers. We see him smile and laugh, full of life. Sure, he's got some issues, but he's a sincere guy trying to make things better. And what hurts is that we know he'll never get that chance.

Coogler does an excellent job of showing Oscar as a living, breathing human — not just a statistic. He loves, feels pain, makes mistakes, and affects so many people. But all his chances for a brighter future are brought to a bloody halt when he's shot in the back for absolutely no reason. He leaves behind a child, a girlfriend, and a mother. He loses a future full of promise. A human being bleeds to death on New Year's Day, and as "Fruitvale Station" comes to an end, we're not just depressed — we're mourning a life that was taken far too soon.

Directed by Jeremy Saulnier, "Green Room" pits punk rockers against Nazis, and while music hath charms to soothe the savage beast, it can't stop a bunch of machete-wielding skinheads. After winding up in the world's scariest club, the members of the Ain't Rights stumble across a particularly nasty murder scene. Knowing the alt-right owners aren't going to let them walk away, the band members lock themselves in the titular room and prepare for war. But jiu-jitsu will only get you so far when your opponents are walking around with pistols and pit bulls.

With our heroes completely outmatched, "Green Room" quickly devolves into a gore-soaked nightmare of ripped-out throats and nearly-severed limbs. Don't get us wrong: This is a masterclass in horror, with Saulnier keeping us on the edge of our seats as the Ain't Rights battle their way to freedom. But not everybody is getting out of this clubhouse alive, and poor Pat (Anton Yelchin) is going to lose a whole lot of blood by the time he lets go of that gun. Stomachs are slit with the greatest of ease, and dogs make mincemeat out of unlucky guitarists, all while Patrick Stewart looks on with cold, calculating contempt.

Unlike a lot of other horror films, the deaths in "Green Room" aren't at all fun. These kids are screaming in genuine pain as they're mangled by dogs and hacked by machetes. And the practical effects in this movie are so realistic that it feels like you're watching a snuff film. Yeah, "Green Room" is fantastic, but at its core, it's as mean and nihilistic as cinema gets. And while the rockers eventually take their revenge, so much blood gets splattered on the walls by the end that it should probably be renamed "Red Room."

David Lynch's 1992 horror-drama "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" is the feature film adaptation of the popular television series "Twin Peaks," which ran for two seasons from 1990-1991. The series –- co-created by Lynch and Mark Frost -– is set in the titular Northwestern town of Twin Peaks, where the beloved prom queen Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) is found murdered. Laura's death completely shakes up the sleepy town, which is full of secrets that visiting FBI agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) slowly unravels.

The show eventually ended on a shocking cliffhanger; however, instead of being a continuation of the show, "Fire Walk With Me" was a prequel that chronicled the last days of Laura Palmer's life before her murder. This upset many fans -– especially considering the cliffhanger wouldn't be resolved until 25 years later on Showtime's "Twin Peaks: The Return" in 2017.

However, by being a prequel, the film allowed Laura Palmer to be more fleshed out as a character, rather than the cipher she was on the show. She wasn't simply a victim, she was more than that, and seeing her struggles firsthand –- rather than in passing or through others' recollections –- makes her tragedy much more personal and real.

Unfortunately, its strength is also why it's hard to watch twice. It's a dark, winding nightmare of abuse, incest, and ultimately death. Not exactly the kind of experience you want to revisit often.

The horrors of the Holocaust, which ultimately led to the deaths of over six million Jewish people and other targeted minorities, can never be understated. It is the most heinous genocide in modern history (though sadly not the last), and its lingering horrors have greatly affected multiple generations. Furthermore, stories from that era need to be told, so that history never forgets ... and also so that its atrocities can't be downplayed later on, nor its perpetrators let off the hook.

However, despite the obvious necessity of stories set around that time, they obviously don't make for the most pleasant viewing. 1982's "Sophie's Choice," starring Meryl Streep as the titular Sophie (which earned her an Academy Award for best actress), is no exception. The story is set after World War II and revolves around an affair between the married Sophie and a writer named Stingo (Peter MacNicol), where Stingo slowly peels back Sophie's past as a former prisoner of the infamous Auschwitz concentration camp.

During the course of the film, it's eventually revealed that in the camp, Sophie had to make the worst choice imaginable: being forced to choose between saving either her son or her daughter from the gas chamber. While she ultimately chooses her daughter, that guilt weighs on her forever, leading to her eventual suicide. Because of how tragic that decision is –- and how well Streep plays Sophie's anguish –- it's not a viewing experience that cries out for multiple visits.

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"Grave of the Fireflies" – based on the short story by Akiyuki Nosaka — is a Japanese anime feature film from 1988, written and directed by Isao Takahata for Studio Ghibli. Set in World War II, the film follows two young siblings –- Seita and Setsuko -– who attempt to find safety after the constant bombing raids from the United States completely decimate their hometown of Kobe, Japan. During the course of the film, the two face many hardships, including starvation, and abandonment. In the end, the film's tragedy makes the audience rethink the devastation and necessity –- as well as the cost –- of war, especially when it comes to the innocents simply caught in the crossfire.

The animation "Grave of the Fireflies" is also top-notch –- unsurprising coming from Studio Ghibli –- as the studio once again elevates the medium. The film is gorgeously rendered, as even in its darkest moments, the artistry and talent of the filmmakers are always on full display. In fact, the heightened aesthetic that animation allows for makes the more nightmarish moments even more pronounced and impactful, as it subjectively invites the audience into the mindset of the frightened children.

Unfortunately, due to just how effective "Grave of the Fireflies" is at depicting the horrors of war, it's not really a film made for repeat viewings.

After the success of "Solaris," both critically and commercially — including winning the Grand Prix Spécial du Jury at the 1972 Cannes Film Festival — Soviet director Andrei Tarkovsky began production on his other seminal cerebral sci-fi drama, 1979's "Stalker." The film is an adaptation based on the popular Russian novel "Roadside Picnic," and is set in a near-future dystopia, where people called Stalkers act as a guide for others attempting to enter and explore a restricted place called The Zone. This strange location doesn't follow the law of physics –- such as walking in circles being faster than walking in a straight line -– and also supposedly grants people their greatest and deepest desires. At the beginning of the film, everything is desaturated and sepia-toned, however, once the titular Stalker guides two other men into the aforementioned Zone, the film suddenly becomes a burst of beautiful, vibrant color.

"Stalker" is about the harsh realities of society, the world, and its impact on the individual -– as well as the innate desire to escape this reality by any means necessary. The journey the three men embark on is perilous, lonely, and –- ultimately –- futile. The film is a difficult reminder that we cannot escape our obligations to the world, and that suffering is a necessary requirement towards fulfillment ... but also that fulfillment is not guaranteed, despite the suffering. Not exactly a lesson you need to hear more than once, even if it's an important one.

Austrian auteur Michael Haneke -– director of previous entry "Funny Games" –- makes an appearance once again on this list with his 2012 French-language drama "Amour," which won both the Palme d'Or at the 2012 Cannes Film Festival and the Academy Award for best foreign language film. The film follows the story of an old married couple in their 80s named Georges and Anne Laurent (Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva, respectively) as Georges attempts to take care of Anne after she suffers a stroke and becomes paralyzed on her right side. The story eventually concludes with Georges suffocating Anne after her disposition gets progressively worse, to the point where she can't make coherent speech anymore.

The film, despite its depressing subject matter, is nonetheless still a beautiful reflection of love, relationships, and our enduring connections to the people around us –- as well as the lengths we'll go for them. Its awards recognition and critical acclaim are much deserved, especially the soulful performances of Trintignant and Riva.

Nonetheless, due to its subject matter –- and the unflinching ways in which Haneke lingers on the gradual and inevitable deterioration of Anne's faculties as she succumbs to her illness –- it's a hard film to watch even once, let alone multiple times. It's beautiful and tragic due to its realism and groundedness, but that's also what makes it so heartbreaking as well.

Werner Herzog is an eclectic German filmmaker and documentarian who is best known for his unique and oft-parodied personality, as well as films that deal with existential subject matter, including works like "Into the Abyss" and "Lessons of Darkness."

However, one of Herzog's most tragic films is his 2005 documentary "Grizzly Man." The film follows the life –- and untimely death –- of the titular "Grizzly Man," aka Timothy Treadwell. A man fascinated by bears, Treadwell spent several years prior to his death studying them at Katmai National Park and Preserve in Alaska. In the documentary, Herzog narrates the footage Treadwell filmed as he spent his summers among a group of bears, whom he names and treats as a family. He even gets his girlfriend, Amie Huguenard, involved. But their story comes to a disturbing end when both Treadwell and Amie are mauled by a bear, an event that was recorded on Treadwell's equipment. In one of the most harrowing sequences of the film, Herzog himself listens to the recording of their untimely deaths, obviously affected by it.

Herzog's film also deals with pertinent themes of alienation, obsession, and delusion. Treadwell himself felt so disconnected from his life that he created a fantasy where he could force a familial bond with literal wild animals. It's a fascinating case study, and worth a watch, but it's hard one to bear on subsequent viewings.

Director Lars Von Trier is known for making a lot of "feel-bad" movies, including 2003's "Dogville" and 1991's "Europa." That's because his films, while often beautiful to look at and well-acted, also deal with themes of loss, pain, and existential dread.

However, one of Von Trier's most emotionally and existentially draining films is 2009's surreal horror-drama "Antichrist." It stars Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg, playing an unnamed married couple who are attempting to cope with the death of their young son, who fell out of a building. The couple eventually decides to travel together to a remote cabin in the woods (always a good idea to do in a horror movie), where they hope to confront their demons and come to grips with the unexpected loss of their child. Unfortunately, the couple's metaphorical demons begin manifesting in increasingly distressing and surreal ways throughout the film, including a talking disemboweled fox, gory genital mutilation, and a graphic sex scene involving a tree made of corpses.

Nonetheless, "Antichrist" has a great atmosphere, memorable (if disturbing) symbolic visuals, and soulful, emotionally raw performances from the two main leads. However, like a lot of Von Trier films, "Antichrist" is not for the faint of heart, and is a nightmare to get through even the first time around, let alone a second or third.

French director Gaspar Noé's ("Enter the Void") intense drama/thriller "Irreversible" from 2002 is most famous (or, rather, infamous) for an extended, uninterrupted, minutes-long sequence where actress Monica Bellucci — playing the character Alex — is sexually assaulted under an overpass by the vile Le Tenia (Jo Prestia). It's not a pleasant scene to watch, by any means. However, the film itself is much more than just that one scene.

"Irreversible" uses that disturbing event as an inciting incident to comment on the cycles of violence caused by revenge, which can spiral out and become self-perpetuating and never-ending. However, the film's story is told in reverse order, and actually opens up following two male characters — Alex's boyfriend, Marcus (Vincent Cassel), and her ex-boyfriend, Pierre (Albert Dupontel) — who both seek bloody and murderous revenge on the aforementioned Le Tenia at a club together. The film then goes backward in time from there, adding more layers and twisted revelations to all the characters as the story unfolds, with Alex's assault happening halfway through the film to add context to the events before and after it.

However, despite the various merits of the film, "Irreversible" is still a hard watch. A story about the perpetuation of violence isn't really a recipe for a feel-good time, regardless of how well-executed the themes might happen to be.

If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, help is available. Visit the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network website or contact RAINN's National Helpline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673).

Sergei Eisenstein is one of the most influential filmmakers ever, especially during the early days of cinema. While Hollywood often gets most of the attention when it comes to the silent era of filmmaking, there were also a lot of technological and narrative advancements made internationally. Eisenstein himself was a Soviet director who innovated many editing techniques, such as the modern montage.

His 1925 silent epic "Strike" doesn't have a standard narrative, and instead is a series of vignettes chronicling the eponymous labor strike against a factory in pre-Soviet Russia, during the brutally totalitarian regime of the tsar. Like Eisenstein's other 1925 epic "Battleship Potemkin," "Strike" doesn't focus on one main character, instead letting the film present the strike as the collective effort it was, showcasing its many facets and challenges.

While "Strike" was produced in the U.S.S.R., the film's story is set in Russia during the height of the tsar's power, meaning it has to end on a tragic note with the workers failing to stop the government forces from subduing the titular strike, with many families and children killed on screen by the tsarist police force. The film is, therefore, a sober reminder of the sacrifices made by workers against the mechanizations of capital, and why revolution was indeed necessary. However, seeing families and innocent children murdered isn't exactly something you'd want to watch repeatedly.

"Pink Flamingos" stands apart in this list as one of the only comedic entries. The 1972 dark comedy was written, directed, produced, edited, and narrated by the provocateur auteur himself, John Waters, and is literally about the most disgusting people on Earth. That's not hyperbole, either, as the entire plot of the film hinges on a contest between the "filthiest people alive," of which the drag queen Divine -– playing an over-the-top fictionalized version of herself -– is the reigning champ. However, Divine's title is challenged by a rich, snobby married couple, the Marbles.

The film then becomes a series of vignettes of Divine and her family –- including her son Crackers and infantile mother Edie (whom Divine keeps in a cage) –- engaging in acts of bestiality, incest, and murder as a way to remain the "filthiest person alive." Divine –- the actress as well as the fictional character –- even eats a real piece of dog feces on screen.

The film itself is historically important as a provocative and subversive midnight film, which helped legitimize LGBTQ+ representation on the big screen. It's also a big "f— you" to mainstream moral standards, and the hypocrisy that goes with it, such as the way the mainstream media in the film glamorizes Divine's murder spree. However, despite the film's often hilarious humor and punk rock attitude, it's also still pretty gross to sit through more than once.

1981's "Possession," directed by Polish art house filmmaker Andrzej Żuławski ("The Devil"), is literally a nightmare printed onto celluloid. The film is ostensibly about the dissolution of a marriage, but it is told symbolically through horrific and disturbing hallucinations (or are they?), with possible supernatural implications. The film is also almost impossible to cleanly classify. It contains multiple genres — domestic drama, spy thriller, and horror film — and is unflinching in all of them. The story is nominally about the messy deterioration of a marriage between a former spy Mark (Sam Neill) and his erratic wife Anna (Isabelle Adjani), which spirals out into something much more harrowing — and even potentially demonic — by the end.

The film is truly unique in its depiction of a toxic and abusive relationship. The stylized and soul-wrenching performances from Neill and Adjani push the audience into the dark and subjectively anguished mindset of the characters, while the disturbing and grotesque metaphorical images (including a gory Lovecraftian tentacle monster made of corpses that Anna makes love to) help externalize Neill's betrayal and anger.

However, it's nonetheless a very gross, tense, and unpleasant film to watch. These aren't criticisms of the film, by any means -– it is meant to be those all things. It's just not a fun place to visit more than once.