Cassandra Peterson understands the power of a movie night — or more specifically, the kind of movie night that wobbles between horror and hilarity, where the fake blood maybe gleams brighter than the budget.

Long before “so bad it’s good” became a genre unto itself, Peterson was perfecting the art as her alter ego, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Beginning in the early 1980s with her weekly series “Elvira’s Movie Macabre,” she invited late-night viewers into her crypt of cult cinema: “The Boy Who Cried Werewolf,” “Frankenstein’s Castle of Freaks,” “The Bat People,” “The Thing with Two Heads.” Each screening was laced with her signature cocktail of camp, innuendo and gothic glamour; that plunging neckline and sky-high beehive as much a part of the show as the B movies themselves.

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