Chalmun’s Spaceport Cantina (Mos Eisley) — "Star Wars: Episode IV" (1977)
Clientele: Wookies, Jedis, Padawans, Biths, bounty hunters and outlaws of every conceivable species (exhaustive list here)—everything except droids.
Rationale: Things are getting a little woozy after all that milk plus, so we're going to head somewhere where the actual customers are weirder than anything we could hallucinate. And hey, we know we'll get in—seeing as none of us are robots. The band is tight, if a little repetitious, and basically you can shoot people and cut arms off with light sabers and hardly anyone even bats an eye.
Music: The legendary Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes playing their famous song originally just called "Cantina Band." Biths got the best beatz.
What's your poison? Whatever those pinkish drinks are that everyone seems to get served round here.
If it's full we'll go to: The Last Resort from "Total Recall"—not quite as diverse from a species standpoint, but hey, three-boobed alien prostitute!

The Bottleneck Saloon "Destry Rides Again" (1939)
Clientele: Townsfolk, gamblers, cattle rangers, pacifist deputies, drunken lawmen, gunslingers corrupt judges, and saloon singers with amazing cheekbones
Rationale: Well, we've just been to a Space Westen saloon, so why not a Western western saloon? Of course the Wild West has a lot to offer us in the way of swinging half-doors, low-slung holsters and rickety chairs just made to be broken over some guys' back, but we're heading to Bottleneck on account of the superior music and high likelihood of a down-and-dirty catfight in addition to the regular old brawl that we're pretty much expecting.
Music: Fingers crossed saloon gal Frenchy (Marlene Dietrich) will favor us with a rendition of "See What The Boys In The Back Room Will Have," If not, some good ol' honky-tonk piano.
What's your poison? All beer was warm in the old West, so bourbon or rye or whatever other local moonshine rotgut you got there. And maybe a sarsparilla for those Playlisters not holding up so well—we're not even at the halfway point yet.
If it's full we'll go to: The Rock Ridge Saloon from "Blazing Saddles," which was largely based on 'Destry' anyway, and Madeline Kahn is actually a pretty great Marlene replacement.

The Slaughtered Lamb — "An American Werewolf in London" (1981)
Clientele: Jovial, joke-telling, chess-and-darts-playing, flat-cap-wearing friendly locals. Just don't mention any odd embellishments to the interior decor, like pentagrams or candles.
Rationale: Having been bodily thrown out during the inevitable bar brawl that happened back in Bottleneck, we're dusty, muddy and a little tender, so what could be nicer than a cosy pint in a friendly village pub?
Music: The pub itself is rather too provincial for anything as flashy as a jukebox, but if it had one, strangely it would play nothing but songs with 'moon' in the title: "Bad Moon Rising," "Moondance" and a hundred different versions of "Blue Moon." Huh.
What's your poison? Spirit or beers, mostly ale by the looks of things. Asking for soup, coffee or hot chocolate will not endear you to the landlady, but she will grudgingly make you some tea.
If it's full we'll go to: The Crow and Crown from "Withnail & I"—another fine English village establishment in which the dowdy locals, even if they're well-meaning, come across as deeply sinister to outsiders.

The Winchester — "Shaun of the Dead" (2004)
Clientele: Exclusively locals, family and friends you've known all your life, fascinating characters like the chap in the cowboy boots who strangled his first wife with a draft excluder, and the barman with the mafia ties. Of course, a lot of them are zombies now.
Rationale: Well, we couldn't very well ignore all previous Wright/Pegg/Frost collaborations on a list inspired by their new one, could we? This is the point in a pub crawl that sorts the men from the boys, and it's where the majority of the drinking will get done, so where better than our favorite local where everyone knows our names and where there's a decorative rifle behind the bar and a plethora of pool cues to ward off any of the troublesome undead?
Music: The jukebox is on random, but it will find a way of playing the perfectly apropos song, be it Chicago's "If You Leave Me Now" or Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now."
What's your poison? Pints of lager. Flaming sambucas. Pork scratchings. More pints. Shots. How's that for a slice of fried gold?
If it's full we'll go to: Maher's Pub in "Grabbers"—guaranteed a lock-in and there's a damn good reason, aside from being in Ireland, to keep downing pints (the attackers here aren't zombies, but ravenous alien creatures who find alcohol toxic).

Rick's Cafe Americain — "Casablanca" (1942)
Clientele: Corrupt Vichy French policemen, Nazis, resistance leaders, gamblers, oily untrustworthy Sidney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre types, young couples desperately in need of papers, and a certain world-weary but noble proprietor.
Rationale: Of all the gin joints in all the world, we can't think of many we'd rather walk into. With gambling, music, dancing and all sorts of intrigues, it's just the sort of place to pick us up after too many comfy pints at the local. And at this point we need to inject a little more class into the proceedings before it all goes off the wall entirely.
Music: Dooley Wilson on the piano singing "As Time Goes By," of course. And occasional, politically risky renditions of "La Marseillaise," which is good because we're probably in the mood for a sing-song by now.
What's your poison? Whisky, cognac, wine, cocktails, champagne, tears, heartbreak.
If it's full we'll go to: We've quite a pick of filmic establishments that offer glamorous entertainments as well as hard liquor but we'd head for the animated pleasures of The Ink and Paint Club from "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" or the 1930s Shanghai decadence of Club Obi Wan from "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom."