The 100 Best Horror Movies of All Time

As a lifelong horror enthusiast who has braved countless chilling nights and haunted houses, I can confidently say that both “The Exorcist” (1973) and “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” (1974) stand out as undisputed classics in the genre.

Horror films can be seen as the equivalent of experiencing a vivid, wakeful nightmare. They offer us a chance to face our hidden fears head-on, whether for amusement or to genuinely scare ourselves. On-screen terror comes in all shapes and sizes, from classic monsters like Frankenstein and Freddy Krueger, to more realistic threats such as mental illness, disease, or even difficult family members (like those portrayed in “Get Out”).

When creating a ranking of the genres’ most notable accomplishments, we took everything into account – right from sophisticated masterpieces to DIY tunes, pure trash to classics like Hitchcock (whose “Psycho” held the top spot in our “Best Films” list, but didn’t make it here). We traced this journey back to when cinema was born. Admittedly, we skipped the very first moments – rumor has it that audiences were terrified when they saw a train arrive at La Ciotat station in the Lumière brothers’ early actuality film. However, we don’t categorize that as horror, even though it effectively showed cinema’s ability to frighten people.

At the heart of each conversation, the query “What defines horror?” was posed, leading to lengthy debates about where exactly the limits are for a genre that’s catapulted numerous careers. How frequently has one of these sleepless terrors disturbed you so deeply that it reappeared in your dreams? If we’ve succeeded, you’ll find yourself eager to contribute to this discussion.

Repulsion (1965)



In most horror films from the 1960s, a character like Carol, portrayed by Catherine Deneuve, would likely meet an untimely demise due to her absent-mindedness and solitary lifestyle in London. However, in Roman Polanski’s second film, she is neither a disposable victim nor a mere protagonist, but the central focus and a source of uncomfortable empathy. Carol is a woman tormented by the harshness of city life who seeks refuge in a shabby apartment. Yet, this sanctuary does not provide safety; instead, the walls seem to come alive, cracking, oozing, and ultimately reaching out to touch her. The initial shock occurs around an hour into the movie when Carol, upon closing the closet door, glimpses the reflection of a man in its mirror for a fleeting moment. Later, she experiences nightmarish visions of being attacked in bed. If these spectral images are untrustworthy, then what about the murders she commits? The gradual deterioration of Carol’s mental state paved the way for numerous psychological horror films that followed, such as “The Babadook” and “Black Swan.” Effective horror movies often explore the depths of our minds, which can be a terrifying journey in itself.

Suspiria (1977)



Dario Argento’s gaudily excessive vampire-themed thriller offers shallow pleasures and is a trippy exploration into the occult. It’s B-movie material – a giallo film transformed into low-budget psychedelic horror. The plot is thin enough to be rejected for revisions by Roger Corman, but that’s part of its charm, as it lets “Suspiria” become a movie that’s all about style, all Italian horror madness: the sets that continue to astound with their extravagant Satan-meets-Liberace design, and the 14-note theme by Goblin from the evil music box that could linger in your mind for years. Jessica Harper portrays an American ballet student who enrolls at a German dance academy, which turns out to be a cover for a witch coven. In its flamboyant manner, the matriarchal theme was progressive for its era, being decades ahead of its time.

The Devil’s Backbone (2001)



Guillermo del Toro’s dark, supernatural tale set in an orphanage at the end of the Spanish Civil War showcases his affection for fantasy as a means of escape. Amidst his own personal struggles, del Toro portrays life at the orphanage as bleak and troubling, symbolized by the half-buried, undetonated bomb in the courtyard. The ghostly presence serves as a reminder of the hidden, unresolved events from the orphanage’s ominous past. Essentially, “The Devil’s Backbone” is a metaphor for the devastation wrought by war, using its raw, grim depictions contrasted with a child’s limited understanding to create a powerful impact, much like in “Come and See.

The Haunting (1963)



If you’ve ever pondered whether you’re gripping something eerie in the dark, you might find yourself forever captivated by Robert Wise’s “The Haunting.” This chilling adaptation of Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel “The Haunting of Hill House” is a spine-tingling ghost story that brings together a diverse group for a paranormal experiment in a foreboding New England mansion, brimming with Gothic undertones. In essence, Wise’s enduring classic embodies the opposite of the dreadful 1999 remake: it’s subtly reserved and devoid of cheap shock tactics. Instead, it sends shivers down your spine with creaky doors, ominous whispers, and a mastery over shadows and light. Starring an unforgettable Julie Harris as the mentally vulnerable Eleanor, and featuring Claire Bloom’s Theo, a queer character ahead of its time who shares a complex bond with Eleanor that hints at a subtle sensuality, “The Haunting” stands tall among supernatural horror films.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)



Philip Kaufman’s clever and meticulously designed remake of the 1956 B-movie classic modernizes the original’s terrifying alien-vegetable-from-hell special effects. However, it reimagines the underlying concept by setting it in San Francisco during the free-spirited late ’70s – a city filled with eccentrics and fanatics. Where the initial story was a sci-fi terror of ’50s social norms spiraling out of control, this version presents a terrifying depiction of the rigid beliefs that characterized life after the counterculture movement. Donald Sutherland and Brooke Adams deliver captivating performances as ordinary individuals struggling to preserve their values amidst chaos. Kaufman masterfully creates an atmosphere of palpable tension (you won’t believe the scene with a dog having a man’s face), culminating in one of the most bone-chilling endings in horror cinema history: Sutherland, with his accusing hand raised and mouth wide open, as we come to understand that no one is immune.

Dead Alive (Braindead) (1991)



In the spirit of Sam Raimi’s “Evil Dead” series, New Zealand-based director Peter Jackson explored the boundaries of filmmaking during the ’80s from his distant location. His works, such as the alien-invasion satire “Bad Taste” and the Muppets-parodying puppet musical “Meet the Feebles”, were an acquired taste. However, it was the splatter movie “Dead Alive” that truly showcased his potential, even though it might have been unexpected that he would later create something as grand and mainstream as the “Lord of the Rings” films. (“The Frighteners” felt more in line with his style.) “Dead Alive” is a joyous over-the-top spectacle, from the cursed Sumatran rat-monkey whose bite triggers the chaos to the film’s grandiose Grand Guignol climax where the stuttering protagonist, played by Timothy Balme, bravely wields a lawn mower, splattering zombie gore across floors and walls after losing his family.

Event Horizon (1997)



Focusing on a rescue squad tasked with salvaging a possessed spacecraft teetering on what could be the edge of hell, Paul W.S. Anderson’s space-set horror tale packs in a multitude of spine-chilling moments over its taut 97-minute runtime, which some might argue is too much for one viewing. However, the film pays little heed to scientific accuracy, instead pushing the boundaries of physics to their limits in pursuit of shocking, unbelievable thrills. Initially, a distressing recording of the previous crew descending into madness foreshadows the terrors that lie ahead. Anderson blends elements from various sources – such as “2001: A Space Odyssey,” “Hellraiser,” and “Solaris” – to envision a twisted network of corridors and rooms that grow progressively menacing as Sam Neill’s once-reasonable character turns against his comrades. Despite having his eyes gouged out and his skin torn, the deranged doctor continues to return, driven by madness.

Cat People (1942)



In Val Lewton’s first horror movie for RKO Pictures, produced on a low budget, the suggestions, ambiguity, and clever use of shadows prove far more chilling than revealing the monster. Instead of a typical love interest, New York bachelor Oliver Reed (played by Kent Smith) finds himself attracted to an enigmatic foreigner, Irena Dubrovna (Simone Simon), in a film noir-inspired thriller. From the outset, there are hints that pursuing this mysterious woman may not be as simple as Oliver expects: cats become agitated around her. It is later revealed that Irena transforms into a leopard when excited, but instead of showing the transformation directly (as in Universal’s “The Wolf Man”), director Jacques Tourneur suggests it through skillful use of lighting and sound design. Scenes like the swimming pool sequence effectively create tension without explicitly showing the transformation. The script also introduces an ancient superstition, leaving much to our imagination.

The Human Centipede 2 (Full Sequence) (2011)



In 2009, when filmmaker Tom Six released “The Human Centipede (First Sequence)”, a movie about a deranged German doctor who joins three tourists together in an appalling way, it seemed like extreme horror cinema had reached its limit. But the sequel took things to another level, making the original appear tame. The sequel’s protagonist, a mentally disturbed parking attendant played by Laurence R. Harvey, is a chilling character, and the story involves him trapping 12 individuals in an East London garage for the purpose of creating a horrific centipede-like connection. You might wonder why “The Human Centipede 2” falls under the category of powerful horror rather than unwatchable trash. The reason is that Tom Six skillfully exploits not only our revulsion but also our morbid curiosity, our desire to witness the impossible.

Dead of Night (1945)



Similar to how Saki’s best short stories leave a lasting impact, horror films are most unsettling when they include a surprising twist or revelation, often leaving a mark on our minds. The series “Dead of Night,” comprising five thoughtful episodes directed by four different individuals and framed within a dream-within-a-dream narrative, is rich in such unexpected shocks. In later years, shows like “The Twilight Zone” and “Tales From the Crypt” attempted to replicate this on television, while “Creepshow” and the “V/H/S” series continued the tradition in cinemas. However, it was this upscale British anthology that initially set the standard with its supernatural themes and dismal conclusions. While many imitators are fortunate to produce a single strong segment, “Dead of Night” succeeds as a complete work, with two particularly effective chapters focusing on an antique mirror possessed by the malevolent spirit of its past abuser, and a ventriloquist’s dummy of extraordinary power, compelling its owner to commit murder.

A Page of Madness (1926)



As a cinephile delving into the annals of horror cinema, I find myself intrigued by the enigma that is “A Page of Madness.” Unlike many horror subgenres that have been molded and replicated over time, this asylum-set Japanese silent film from Teinosuke Kinugasa stands as a unique anomaly, never inspiring imitators or conforming to established formulas.

Horror of Dracula (1958)



Among the numerous movies based on Bram Stoker’s novel, not many come close to the chilling portrayal of Christopher Lee as Dracula, with his fangs bared, eyes bulging, and blood dripping from his mouth. Truly abominable. The sequel to Hammer Film Productions’ 1957 “The Curse of Frankenstein,” the second collaboration between director Terence Fisher and screenwriter Jimmy Sangster, is often considered their best work. This film takes creative liberties with the source material, enhancing the scares (and deaths) while toning down some of Dracula’s more fantastical abilities. Peter Cushing portrays a determined, no-nonsense Dr. Van Helsing, a seasoned vampire hunter who can occasionally pull off a stunt. The cinematography by Jack Asher (a regular at Hammer) is rich and vibrant, mirroring the film’s intense, sensual horror. However, it’s Lee’s Dracula that gives the movie its sinister core, even though he has no dialogue after the initial 15 minutes. He is a wild beast – an elegant, grotesque monster.

Blood Feast (1963)



How did Herschell Gordon Lewis, the unconventional filmmaker known for his splatter movies, manage to create this genre? His main intention wasn’t artistic but rather to make money. He produced films for drive-in theaters, which could be considered a lower tier than grindhouse cinemas. With the shrewdness of an underground exploitation showman, he realized that the more outrageous and extreme the better would attract audiences. So, he crafted this absurdly low-budget thriller about an Egyptian caterer named Fuad Ramses, who required bodies for his religious rituals. And thus, the splatter film was born, along with the slasher movie as well. “Blood Feast” is remarkable because despite its cheap and unpolished appearance, you can sense the raw energy of cinematic creation in it. Using mannequin parts, ketchup-like blood, and the most cheesy organ score reminiscent of a daytime soap opera, Lewis tapped into an underlying desire within the collective moviegoer psyche: a morbid fascination with violence that would shape popular culture.

The Vanishing (Spoorloos) (1988)



Occasionally, it’s not clear if you’re watching a horror film until the very end. The nonlinear Euro thriller directed by George Sluizer gradually becomes increasingly dark. It starts with a woman (Johanna ter Steege) disappearing at a highway rest stop, then jumps ahead to find her boyfriend Rex (Gene Bervoets) still haunted by her vanishing. The movie doesn’t keep viewers guessing for long about the perpetrator, as he (Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu) contacts Rex and, with chilling calm, proposes to reveal what happened. It’s only then that Sluizer shows what the woman endured, as Rex is drawn into the same dire situation, while viewers realize all the ways things could have turned out differently … and perhaps still can. In a twisted interpretation of an old saying, by seeking to understand the past, Rex’s character finds himself destined to relive it.

Village of the Damned (1960)



In the 1950s, there was an excessive fear of alien invasions. At the start of the next decade, the most unsettling manifestation occurred – a grave adaptation of John Wyndham’s “The Midwich Cuckoos” – as it involved children. An unusual cosmic event causes the entire town to lose consciousness, leading to a dozen mysterious pregnancies. A few years later, the super-intelligent blonde offspring, born from these pregnancies, utilize mind control to manipulate others and safeguard themselves. The film’s distinctive glowing-eye effect was considered too intense, forcing director Wolf Rilla to remove it for the U.K. version. Meanwhile, American viewers watched as a chilling, Hitler Youth-like group confronted an unfortunate individual, compelling him to take his own life using a shotgun. Since then, it has become a horror movie trope that children can’t be trusted, but at the time, they were considered innocent and sacred – a belief this film shattered, thus giving birth to the ‘demon child’ subgenre.

Re-Animator (1985)



Currently, the majority of movies across various genres tend to rework or respond to previous works. However, it’s worth noting how refreshingly unconventional Stuart Gordon’s approach to horror was when he produced low-budget, “the more, the better” body-horror films like “Re-Animator” and “From Beyond” in the mid-80s. He even cast Jeffrey Combs, Barbara Crampton, and a similar team for both projects, using a classic H.P. Lovecraft story as the basis for his Frankenstein-inspired debut of a mad scientist character. By this point, Gordon had been experimenting with theater for over a decade through his Chicago-based Organic Theater Company, whose “Warp” trilogy failed on Broadway. Initially, he aimed for “Re-Animator” to be serious, but he couldn’t resist his penchant for the grotesque: a glowing green serum reminiscent of coolant, a sentient disembodied head, and an abundance of stage blood.

Dead Ringers (1988)



David Cronenberg’s thriller masterfully portrays a chilling tale centered around twin gynecologists, played by Jeremy Irons, who share a unique specialty in treating infertility. This film taps into an unsettling fear of the human body, particularly its reproductive aspects. However, the true terror lies not just in their physical connections but also in the twisted dynamics and mental disturbances that bind these two brothers. The enigmatic Elliot, known for his seductive charms, often deceives his patients, such as actress Claire Niveau (Geneviève Bujold), by leading them on before handing them over to his reserved brother Beverly, who they initially mistake for Elliot. This dangerous game is not only unethical but also carries severe legal consequences. Cronenberg skillfully blends a fixation on reproduction and female sexuality with a grim depiction of men’s darkest fears and actions. The use of gynecological tools in a nightmarish fashion adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

The Little Shop of Horrors (1960)



As someone who has spent countless hours immersed in the realm of B-movies and cult classics, I have to say that “Little Shop of Horrors” holds a special place in my heart. This film, directed by Roger Corman, is not only a testament to low-budget ingenuity but also a unique blend of horror, comedy, and musical elements that make it truly timeless. Shot in just two days and a night, the movie appears as if it was created spontaneously, yet this very imperfection adds to its charm.

What Lies Beneath (2000)



This movie is quite unusual: a horror film in the mainstream genre, featuring big-name actors and elaborate special effects, that manages to be both chilling and enthralling by catching you off guard. The clever thriller directed by Robert Zemeckis initially appears as a domestic drama of sorts, with Michelle Pfeiffer and Harrison Ford portraying a long-term couple grappling with their fair share of emotional baggage – even before the apparition makes an appearance. Zemeckis skillfully creates scenes of sheer terror (such as one in a bathtub that’s beautifully framed and executed), but what truly terrifies in “What Lies Beneath” is how it employs the ghostly presence to illuminate the hidden gaps between people who believed they knew each other intimately. Ford delivers a surprisingly intense performance, initially appearing lethargic before revealing his true intentions, at which point you recognize it as one of his most daring performances.

The Wolf Man (1941)



1931 marked the beginning of Universal Pictures’ era of popular monster movies, which helped them during the Great Depression but not with the high costs of “Show Boat.” This decade-long phase concluded with the creation of the iconic werewolf movie. Teams with questionable taste kept some of the studio’s famous monsters alive, even appearing in comedies alongside Abbott and Costello. The best Wolf Man film, however, is the one titled after him, starring Lon Chaney Jr., son of “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” actor Lon Chaney, as the tragic werewolf. Unlike other Universal monsters, Larry Talbot’s character is a would-be hero who becomes cursed while defending a woman from attack. This adds a poignant, tragic aspect to his transformation – one of the most impressive in the franchise, thanks to makeup artist Jack Pierce, whose transformative technique was unparalleled for nearly 50 years, until Rick Baker worked on “An American Werewolf in London.

House of Wax (1953)



In a career spanning various genres, Vincent Price made his mark as a horror film legend with this role as the proprietor of a wax museum where the exhibits depict gruesome murders – some of which turn out to be real. Released by a major Hollywood studio, “House of Wax” was the first 3D movie and featured numerous objects coming towards the audience, such as a paddleball flying straight at the camera. Despite lacking this visual trick, the film offers an outstanding performance by Price, who strikes the perfect balance between madness and control as the wax museum owner. Although the 2005 remake is more famous, it’s only the original that can claim the revival of a star making a comeback.

The Omen (1976)



Among the disappointing outcomes brought about by “The Exorcist” was the flood of subpar imitations and lackluster sequels that followed. Most of these were dreadful, but one notable exception was the lavish remake produced by 20th Century Fox, starring Gregory Peck and Lee Remick as parents who unwittingly adopt the Antichrist. This film not only captured the spirit of its time, but also built a solid framework for future installments (even extending to this year’s prequel). The young Damien, portrayed by Harvey Spencer Stephens, incited others to sacrifice themselves for him or hasten the demise of those who opposed him. Jerry Goldsmith’s eerie score added weight to Richard Donner’s serious and genuinely shocking direction. Photographs taken of the victims foreshadowed their methods of death, keeping us guessing while making the gruesome deaths – such as a priest impaled by a lightning rod – seem inevitable.

Angst (1983)



The Austrian film by Gerald Kargl, titled “Kommissar X: Einsatz in Wien,” is a hard-hitting depiction inspired by the notorious “Kniesek case.” Unlike other films on similar subjects, this movie does not attempt to beautify its content. Instead, it provides an unflinching portrayal of real-life events, making viewers uncomfortably complicit in the actions of the killer, played by Erwin Leder. The camera work varies between subjective shots showing what the killer experiences, reverse angles capturing Leder’s facial expressions using a chest-mounted, backward-facing camera rig, and distant surveillance-style footage. Noteworthy fans of this film include Gaspar Noé (as seen in “I Stand Alone”) and Yorgos Lanthimos, who borrowed the high-angle technique used by DP Zbigniew Rybczyński for his film “The Killing of a Sacred Deer.

The Blob (1958)



This film is often considered a campy classic, and for good reason – it’s intentionally so. The title track, penned by Burt Bacharach (“It creeps, leaps, glides, and slides across the floor“), sets the tone that this low-budget 1950s teenage horror flick about a meteorite landing in a small Pennsylvania town, releasing an expanding glob of alien goo, is self-aware of its own absurdity. However, that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable as a captivating “Blob” invasion fantasy. Steve McQueen, in his debut leading role, carries the plot which resembles American Graffiti on acid, and when the Blob, a creature that looks like something you could spread on toast, escapes from the movie theater projection booth, it bypasses logic to strike the wide-eyed child within every audience member.

I Walked with a Zombie (1943)



A chilling film in the style of Val Lewton and Jacques Tourneur, known for their subtly ominous storytelling: Picture “Jane Eyre” transformed into a haunting nocturnal voodoo vision. The protagonist, Miss Connell (Frances Dee), is a young nurse who ventures to the Caribbean island of Saint Sebastian to attend to Jessica (Christine Gordon), the enigmatic, catatonic wife of a sugar-plantation owner (Tom Conway). It quickly becomes evident that Jessica is not just in a coma, but a zombie, suspended between life and death. While one might expect the voodoo plot (with distant drumbeats and a priest performing rituals) to be a 1940s racial stereotype, the movie is deeply grounded in an understanding of historical oppression’s lingering impact. The outstanding performance by Darby Jones as Carrefour, the gaunt, bulging-eyed zombie sentinel, leaves an unsettling impression that serves as a powerful symbol of slavery’s terrors.

The Descent (2005)



Experiencing nothing more thrillingly terrifying – or enthralling for horror enthusiasts – is witnessing a group of friends suffering grisly fates. Writer-director Neil Marshall portrays a weekend getaway for women into caving, which takes a disastrous turn as thrill-seekers encounter harrowing situations within a complex network of caves. This intense, fast-paced film is a nail-biting ordeal for claustrophobes and offers characters you genuinely empathize with. Marshall skillfully defies conventions and expectations, as his resourceful heroines adapt to their unfamiliar surroundings and make rational decisions. The atmospheric film cleverly employs darkness and strategic light sources to build tension, while the grandiose score adds a touch of sophistication. By the end of “The Descent,” you’ll be emotionally drained in the most satisfying way possible.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)



Wes Craven’s low-budget horror film, “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” introduced an enduring character to the world – the terrifying Freddy Krueger. Portrayed by the captivating Robert Englund, Freddy gained iconic status among ’80s kids due to his distinctive features such as burn scars, metal claws, a fedora, and striped sweater. What made “Nightmare” truly chilling was its innovative premise: Freddy dwelled in the dream world, and if he killed you while you were asleep, it would be a death from which there was no awakening. This concept resulted in surreal visuals as the tormented teens of Springwood succumbed to sleep: A bloodied body bag was pulled mysteriously across the polished school floors, a girl was dragged up and down her room’s walls and ceiling, and a bed exploded with a fountain of gore. While later sequels may have diluted Freddy’s cultural impact, the original “Nightmare on Elm Street” continues to haunt our dreams.

Blood for Dracula (1974)



Among all genres, horror uniquely allows us to find enjoyment in seemingly odd and rebellious aspects such as poor acting, implausible storylines, and unconvincing special effects. Rushed into production following “Flesh for Frankenstein” at Cinecittà, independent director Paul Morrissey’s X-rated take on Dracula intentionally pushes boundaries when it comes to good taste. In this provocative reinterpretation, Udo Kier, our titular character, is gradually deteriorating due to a lack of virgin blood (which he pronounces as “wuhr-gin”). The count’s demise, however, is not caused by a stake but by a lover: The reason Dracula can’t find any virgins is because Joe Dallesandro, portraying a Marxist peasant with a New York accent, is too preoccupied with seducing them. This audacious, underground film production was meant to cash in on Andy Warhol’s fame, although the renowned art figure had minimal involvement in its creation. Nevertheless, his name still attracts audiences to this steamy, camp-style spectacle.

Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954)



The image of a monster cradling a helpless woman in his arms goes back a long way. But by the 1950s, when Universal was supplanting the Victorian-tinged fables of “Dracula” and “Frankenstein” with its 3D shocker about an aquatic monster known as the Gill-man, times had evolved to the point where this slithery half-amphibian, half-human stalker had a presence that was, in its comic book way, weirdly libidinous. His look is a big part of it: the scowling face and bald head, the gills that are like long hair, the lips stretched into a giant leer. During a geology expedition to the Amazon, the Creature kills several assistants, but he’s most interested in Kay (Julie Adams), the white-bathing-suited beauty he menaces as she’s swimming, just missing her with a swipe of his oversize claws. Jack Arnold’s original “Creature” film is standard in many ways, but with the title character lying in wait, its underwater sequences have a poetic dread.

Hostel: Part II (2007)



In terms of phrases that might be used to describe an incredibly gruesome slasher movie, “so real you can believe it” isn’t typically the one that comes to mind first. However, Eli Roth’s ultra-violent thriller stands out due to its unsettling realism, both in concept and execution. On the dark corners of the internet, it’s often said that anything can be bought, and “Hostel 2” explores the question – is this a fantasy or a grim reality? The superrich, according to the film, might desire to commit the most gruesome murders as a form of entertainment. Hidden deep within the wilderness of Slovakia, a massive warehouse disguises a dungeon where victims are abducted and held captive. Here, the wealthy perverts pay to fulfill their darkest desires involving violence and chaos. Roth’s direction, filled with power tools and the discomfort of amateur violence, builds an uneasy intensity.

The Wailing (2016)



Korean filmmaker Na Hong-jin gains recognition beyond Korea through films like “Parasite” and “The Host,” but when it comes to horror, Bong Joon Ho takes a backseat. In this movie, Na introduces an undefined, terrifying epidemic into a tranquil rural village. The film shares similarities with Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s “Cure” (where infected people feel compelled to kill others) and M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Happening” (about a mysterious wave of suicides), as it portrays the chilling way real-world diseases spread: panic is met with confusion, superstition, and differing opinions about how to control the outbreak.

Near Dark (1987)



In my journey as a filmmaker, I found myself in a challenging position when producing “Near Dark,” a genre-defying blend of cowboy, biker, and bloodsucker themes. To avoid being axed by producers during the early stages of my career, I crafted a movie that steered clear of traditional vampire tropes like coffins and bats, and never uttered the word “vampire.” The film was dark, gritty, and filled with tension – a reflection of the risks I was taking.

The Sixth Sense (1999)



Ghosts are terrifying. But grief and regret? Those deeply human concerns that incessantly haunt the living — and according to many a supernatural film, torment the dead as well — may be several shades scarier. This notion is at the heart of the petrifying film that made M. Night Shyamalan’s name synonymous with horror (and twist endings), launched its dead-people-seeing young actor Haley Joel Osment into temporary child stardom and gave Toni Collette one of the most heartbreaking roles of her career as a troubled single mom still grieving the loss of her own mother. Led by an ethereal Bruce Willis through a soul-crushing revelation and its merciful resolution, and caressed by studious Gothic hues, “The Sixth Sense” grasps that the best ghost stories are ultimately ones about all of us earthbound creatures with unresolved aches.

Possession (1981)



The dissolution of a romantic relationship can be bewilderingly intricate. Emotional and visceral anxieties spill out chaotically in Andrzej Żuławski’s genre-defying horror masterpiece, where scenes from a tortured marriage are ruthlessly exposed. Initially banned in the U.K., “Possession” narrates the story of a couple – Sam Neill’s Mark, returning from a covert operation, and Isabelle Adjani’s Anna, who had an affair in Cold War Berlin – as they face each other in progressively violent and destructive confrontations. From the bitterly cold atmosphere of their dilapidated apartment in a gloomy city to the episodes of paranoia involving carving knives, unsettling body doubles, and terrifyingly transforming creatures, “Possession” is both traumatic and hallucinatory, its haunting legacy evident in some of the most thought-provoking horror films today – notably Coralie Fargeat’s “The Substance.

The Babadook (2014)



Film director Jennifer Kent, originally contemplating her script revolving around a mother struggling with her troubled son, found an uncanny parallel in the tragic event of a Melbourne father throwing his 5-year-old daughter from a bridge. This grim coincidence sparked her interest in delving into the psychological transformation that pushes someone, particularly a parent, to the brink of monstrosity – a theme she felt was central to her movie. Her critically acclaimed 2014 debut, titled after its grotesque creature, presents a lanky, raucous being reminiscent of characters from German Expressionist horror films. However, it was Essie Davis’ chilling portrayal as a single mother enduring the relentless demands of her challenging child that left audiences spellbound and many critics claiming it was one of the most frightening films they’d ever seen. Some women who saw the film found solace in recognizing that they weren’t alone in their experiences.

The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957)



1950s horror movies often featured elements that became excessively large or minuscule. In Jack Arnold’s film adaptation of Richard Matheson’s novel, the protagonist Scott (played by Grant Williams) finds himself in a puzzling fog that triggers his shrinking. This transformation makes him a sensational figure in the media; his personal terror becomes a fascination for tabloids everywhere. The movie is an eccentric blend of cutting-edge special effects, showcasing Scott’s life in a dollhouse or fighting a colossal spider for survival. However, what gives it a poignant sense of pop-culture dread is its resemblance to Kafka meets Hollywood, serving as a parable of the Atomic Age man feeling insignificant compared to the world around him, gradually disappearing into nothingness.

Planet Terror (2007)



In contrast to Quentin Tarantino’s “Death Proof,” which is often the focus of discussions about “Grindhouse,” Robert Rodriguez’s “Planet Terror” stands out as a unique, low-budget zombie thriller that feels like it was made in the late ’70s or early ’80s. The film, filled with zombies that squirt fake raspberry Jell-O blood when shot, is such an accurate recreation of a specific type of slow-paced zombie movie, it’s as if Rodriguez had created the low-budget equivalent of “Far From Heaven.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) 



He’s the quintessential monster as metaphor: a pure Freudian projection of polite civilization and the roiling, insatiable id beneath. Robert Louis Stevenson’s 1886 novella has been spun into dozens of movies about the light-and-dark, good-and-evil sides of human nature. But never more potently than in Rouben Mamoulian’s early sound version. Made before the Production Code, it has a seething, let-it-rip quality, as well as a powerful performance by Fredric March as the kindly Victorian London doctor who takes an experimental drug that turns him into a leering simian sociopath. Hyde, in his terroristic lust and violence, takes up with a bar singer, Ivy (Miriam Hopkins), and it’s no exaggeration to say that she becomes his domestic-abuse victim. At the same time, he almost seems to be taunting the overly genteel Jekyll. The transformation scenes, a decade ahead of those of “The Wolf Man,” were revolutionary in their visceral expression of the beast within.

Gremlins (1984)



It’s not just horror films that are intended for adult viewers; some can leave lasting impacts even at a young age, shaping your psychological landscape in ways you might remember vividly. Back in the early ’80s, before home VCRs and cable TV made it easy for children to watch movies their parents would have avoided in cinemas, Steven Spielberg produced a series of horror films suitable for family viewing. Two years after releasing “Poltergeist,” a suburban-home shocker about a possessed house, he was involved in the production of this cautionary horror-comedy, directed by Joe Dante, who also made “The Howling.” In the spirit of Christmas, Dad brings home an unusual pet named Mogwai, with bat ears and piebald fur. Ignoring the care instructions (such as not getting them wet or feeding them after midnight), chaos erupts on screen, making it too intense for young viewers, leading to the creation of the PG-13 rating by the MPAA.

Candyman (1992)



The supernatural thriller at hand was influenced by Clive Barker’s short story “The Forbidden.” Unlike typical slasher films, this production delves into deeper themes beyond mere body counts. Tony Todd delivers a chilling portrayal as the central character, known as Candyman – a man whose origins trace back to the 1800s, where he was born from an interracial relationship between a slave and a white woman. His punishment was gruesome: his hand was severed, he was attacked by bees that killed him, and his body was burned.

Funny Games (1997)



In the 21st century, as the horror genre gained more popularity and recognition, some filmmakers aimed to challenge what they perceived as a nihilistic style within it. Michael Haneke’s chilling cat-and-mouse thriller can be seen simply as a chilly spin on home-invasion films, where sadistic intruders torment their victims. However, it can also be interpreted as a deeper critique of exploitation movies in general. In this context, “Funny Games” provokes thought about why we enjoy watching strangers being terrorized. The pivotal moment that reveals the film’s intent is right after the mother takes control, grabs a shotgun, and kills one of her tormentors; the deceased man’s accomplice then reaches for the remote control and rewinds the scene, allowing these two villains to manipulate the outcome. If this twist angers you, then Haneke has achieved his goal, making viewers question the agreement between filmmaker and audience by violating the unspoken rules that were just broken.

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)



The trailer for Robert Aldrich’s film, a gritty depiction of two once-famous sisters living in a Hollywood mansion, warned viewers to remember it was just a movie. However, given the longstanding animosity between stars Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, this seemed unlikely. In fact, Davis had said, “The best time I ever had with Joan Crawford was when I pushed her down the stairs” during their vicious battle in this psychological horror. Crawford, playing a paraplegic character, prepared for a scene where Davis dragged her across the floor using rocks in her pockets. Interestingly, it was Crawford who proposed this collaboration, believing that their real animosity could generate profits – and she was correct. Filled with tantalizingly wicked fights (such as serving rats for dinner), this enduringly popular camp classic simmers with raw resentment towards an industry that discards its stars when they’re no longer profitable.

Raw (2016)



In “Raw,” it’s not just the cannibalism scenes that are frightening, although Justine’s (Garance Marillier) enthusiastic consumption of her sister’s severed fingertip is undeniably unsettling. What truly sends chills down our spines is the intense peer pressure depicted in Julia Ducournau’s unique coming-of-age tale. We squirm as this shy character, Justine, steps out of her familial safety net and into a boisterous new social group where her peers engage in extreme initiation rituals. As she ventures beyond her comfort zone, she’s unsure how to act, and a single mistake, such as biting off her roommate’s lip at a party, can significantly alter the way others perceive her. Similar to her Palme d’Or winning film “Titane,” Ducournau invites viewers to empathize with the monster, who is still discovering her own capabilities.

Peeping Tom (1960)



1960 saw the release of “Psycho,” a movie featuring a psychotic killer who enjoyed watching his victims. However, unlike Alfred Hitchcock’s immediate success, Michael Powell’s “Peeping Tom” – a raw and vivid portrayal of a voyeur’s troubled mind – didn’t gain its iconic status until later reviews. In fact, the graphic violence depicted in this film nearly ended Powell’s career due to the negative reactions it received upon release. The movie follows a focus puller (Carl Boehm) who deceives women and films them without their knowledge before murdering them with a symbolic weapon. As one of the earliest slasher movies told from the killer’s perspective, “Peeping Tom” implicates the audience in the violence by presenting it from the murderer’s point of view.

The Fly (1986)



David Cronenberg’s renowned body-horror film combines elements of repulsion and romance. In this movie, Jeff Goldblum portrays scientist Seth Brundle, who pushes the limits with his teleportation device experimentation, inadvertently fusioning his DNA with that of a fly. This results in him gradually transforming into a revolting combination of both, much to the dismay of his partner, played by Geena Davis. Initially, Brundle experiences enhanced vitality and heightened sexual desire, acting on primal impulses. However, as he starts sprouting hair and losing teeth, his humanity fades away alongside his physical attributes. Goldblum delivers an exceptional performance, embodying a mix of ambition, arrogance, and depravity. Davis provides a contrast with her deeply emotional portrayal. As Brundle’s transformation into an insect unfolds due to the special effects, Davis’s perspective on his descent offers a chilling blend of horror and sadness.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920)



Robert Wiene’s groundbreaking silent German horror film may appear somewhat rigid at times, but it’s undeniably a chilling symphony of emotions that paved the way for numerous distorted paths. Essentially, it was the first zombie film, the first psycho-killer movie, the first “Oh my goodness, it was all in his mind” movie, and the first — possibly last — production to be filmed on distorted-perspective, life-is-a-madhouse, hand-painted expressionist sets that resemble something out of Dr. Seuss’ “The Homicidal Hypnotist in the Hat.” In this film, Caligari (portrayed by Werner Krauss) presents himself as a carnival sideshow attraction centered around Cesare, a somnambulist he manipulates to go on a murderous rampage. However, despite his role, Cesare, portrayed by Conrad Veidt, exhibits an unexpected sense of compassion, much like Rudolf Nureyev resurrected to lead a nostalgic tour guided by The Cure.

Let the Right One In (2008)



Thomas Alfredson’s poignant vampire film stands out as a beautiful and sorrowful masterpiece in the genre, debuting during a time when it was losing its bite due to overproduction. The movie explores its coming-of-age theme through a delicate blend of tenderness and loneliness, which coexist near brutal violence. In this story, a bullied teenage boy (Kåre Hedebrant) forms a friendship with an older neighbor girl (Lina Leandersson), who he unknowingly discovers is a gentle yet bloodthirsty creature confined by her father. The film exhibits both endearing charm and ruthless ferocity, while its chilly narrative is meticulously constructed, but retains an explosive unpredictability that erupts from its frozen calmness.

Eraserhead (1977)



David Lynch’s captivating, slow-paced surrealistic film was his debut feature (he spent six years perfecting it), and every scene and sound carries the weight of his meticulous focus on atmosphere and detail. Jack Nance, with a hairstyle that seems to stand on end due to tension, plays the main character who meanders through a post-bombing industrial setting before becoming a single father to a baby that resembles a gelatinous calf’s head. (It’s as unsettling as anything in “Alien.”) This movie is unparalleled in evoking the sensation of dreaming. The slow tempo, the ambient white-noise soundtrack, and the bizarre images like the Woman in the Radiator singing “In Heaven Everything Is Fine” – it all creates a hypnotic state, though only because Lynch, the twisted storyteller, is a master of distorted beauty.

Blood and Black Lace (1964)



Mario Bava kickstarted his filmmaking journey with conventional, otherworldly horror narratives, showcasing three powerful instances in the 1963 anthology film “Black Sabbath.” This chilling compilation marked his debut in color cinema and served as a precursor to the vibrant hues of “Blood and Black Lace,” a grisly murder mystery set amidst Rome’s ruthless fashion world. From the vivid opening credits to a suspenseful scene where a masked killer pursues his model victim, Bava wholeheartedly embraced the essence of the giallo genre – a revolutionary take on the emerging slasher style, where extravagance (in terms of appearance, gore, and kink) was used to disguise questionable content. The moral norms of the time had protected viewers from the level of violence depicted here, as evident in a scene involving torture where the antagonist presses a woman’s face against a fiery furnace. However, the lighting! The audience was intended to focus on such details, as Bava spearheaded a movement that combined art and depravity elegantly.

Irreversible (2002)



In a striking and chilling manner, Gaspar Noé’s film immerses us into a world of grotesque and malevolent activities, making the scenes feel like they are unfolding right in front of us. The descent into the hellish depths of a sex club sets the tone for an atmosphere charged with violence that culminates in a gruesome murder, one of the most disturbing scenes ever captured on film. What makes it even more terrifying is the implication that the victim willingly participated. Noé can be seen as a fusion of Kubrick and Sade, tailored for the era of underground, realistic pornography. Yet, he also presents himself as a moralist. “Irreversible” unfolds as a narrative of rape and retribution told in reverse sequence, and the graphic portrayal of sexual assault, lasting an excruciating nine minutes (Monica Bellucci’s performance is nothing short of heroic), is deeply unsettling in a way that transcends the surface level. “Irreversible” is a genuine horror movie that should carry a warning label. It’s a powerful film, but once seen, it can never be forgotten.

Onibaba (1964)



In the 1968 Japanese ghost story “Kuroneko,” directed by Kaneto Shindō, a woman and her daughter-in-law are brutally killed by soldiers, only to return as cats seeking vengeance. This is a more supernaturally explicit tale compared to Shindō’s earlier art-house horror fable “Onibaba.” In Onibaba, the main characters are a mother (Nobuko Otowa) and her son’s wife (Jitsuko Yoshimura), who survive during wartime by luring and killing samurai for their supplies, throwing them into a deep pit. This grim scenario mirrors the compromises ordinary citizens might have had to make during World War II. Shindō combines contemporary elements, like nighttime shots of moonlit fields, with traditional aspects, such as Noh theater techniques. The older woman steals a twisted Hannya mask and cloak in an attempt to frighten her companion into behaving. However, she ultimately becomes the embodiment of what she’s mimicking – a “demon hag” consumed by jealousy.

The Witch (2015)



Robert Eggers’ New England folklore horror movie intensifies traditional horror themes such as fear of the feminine and sexuality. “The Witch” seems haunted at every corner, from its exiled Puritan characters to the explicit child murder that drives the plot, which is revealed early in the film. It discards mystery and replaces it with a sense of impending doom, coupled with disturbing close-ups of animals. Anya Taylor-Joy initially gained recognition for her role as Thomasin, the family’s teenage daughter who faces the temptation to “live deliciously,” a sinister proposition that contradicts everything she understands and believes. The film leaves an indelible impression with its terrifying visuals, one that lingers deep within you, much like a supernatural cinematic experience.

The Birds (1963)



To truly be scared by Alfred Hitchcock’s technically impressive yet somewhat absurd exploration of suspense, one would likely already have an existing fear of birds. However, even if you don’t, watching this film may change your perspective on common sights like crows on power lines, as Hitchcock brilliantly transforms these ordinary scenes into sources of dread. The film presents numerous logistical difficulties for any director, particularly the portrayal of malice from creatures incapable of verbal communication. Yet, Hitchcock was no ordinary filmmaker and skillfully infuses this unexplained ecological cautionary tale with memorable set-pieces, such as the scene where Tippi Hedren nervously walks past a playground swarming with ominous birds. Notably, Hitchcock chose to forgo the assistance of composer Bernard Herrmann (who was crucial in “Psycho”), instead building tension through innovative sound design — a strategy that has since become a staple of the genre.

Godzilla (1954)



Godzilla, one of cinema’s most remarkable monsters, exists in a unique blend of breathtaking absurdity. He straddles two extremes, embodying an uncanny mix of kitsch wonder. Standing above cityscapes, trains, and power lines, he destroys them as if they were mere toys (a thought that now occurs to me), with a fur-like hide, back adorned with tree-like plates, and eyes so small they border on puppyish. This radioactive beast who ravaged Tokyo is a symbol of the nuclear tragedy Japan experienced during World War II. As such, he stands as one of the most significant horrors of the 20th century on screen. Yet, we are constantly reminded that we’re watching a cleverly tacky apocalyptic puppet show, as he’s played by a man in a dinosaur costume. The original Godzilla film remains the most captivating, offering a grandiose spectacle of destruction tinged with solemnity.

The Thing (1982)



Creating something entirely fresh and terrifying for horror fans, especially a unique type of monster, can prove challenging. John Carpenter’s initial major studio project was actually a remake (of the 1950s sci-fi thriller “The Thing From Another World”), but it received mixed reviews. What truly distinguished his chilling tale set in Antarctica was an alien predator that mimics its victims, adopting characteristics from various species it has encountered across the galaxy. Each time we encounter this creature, it appears in a grotesque new shape – a combination of tentacles, teeth, muscle, and spider legs, merged with whatever it assimilated from its last victim. Rob Bottin, a master of practical effects (“The Howling”), was responsible for crafting each of these menacing creatures, ranging from a decapitated head resembling a crab to a dog-like beast that transforms itself inside out. What makes this creature even more unsettling is its ability to blend in once it has transformed – making it nearly impossible to detect.

The Invisible Man (1933)



In a surprising twist, Claude Rains portrayed the most alluring character among Universal Monsters, yet it’s ironic that viewers don’t catch a glimpse of his face until the final scene of “The Invisible Man.” This was his debut role, where as Dr. Jack Griffin, he initially appears hidden under bandages and dark glasses. After being provoked by patrons in a tavern, he removes this disguise to reveal nothing at all – an effect created by covering the actor’s “invisible” parts with black velvet and filming against a completely black backdrop, then overlaying the rest onto the scene. Unlike many monster or superhero narratives, “The Invisible Man” skips the part where Griffin gains his powers, instead focusing on how the serum steals his sanity. An interesting trivia: Rains’ maniacal laughter served as inspiration for Mark Hamill’s performance as the Joker in the animated “Batman” series.

Manhunter (1986)



The iconic portrayal of Hannibal Lecter is found in Jonathan Demme’s “The Silence of the Lambs,” but five years prior, director Michael Mann adapted Thomas Harris’ first Lecter novel, “Red Dragon,” into a chilling serial-killer mystery. Brian Cox masterfully plays Lecter, setting the stage for Anthony Hopkins’ interpretation. However, it is Tom Noonan’s performance as Francis Dollarhyde that truly shines. As a family murderer with a scarred lip and an enraged psyche concealed behind an office drone’s stuttering voice, he may be the most authentic screen serial killer. The pursuit of him by William Petersen’s FBI agent Will Graham creates a tense, unsettling experience that offers a strange sense of release through its eerie atmosphere.

Vampyr (1932)



Classic old horror movies usually maintain a refined, almost antiquated elegance, even while they portray disturbing demons. However, Carl Theodor Dreyer’s eerie vampire film deviates from this pattern, as it was produced during the early sound era but features minimal dialogue and a lack of narrative coherence that might initially seem like a flaw. But if you approach this 73-minute movie not as a conventional story but as an ethereal symphony of fear and repressed apprehension, it may gradually appear strikingly contemporary. The tale of vampires is presented in rich fragments of haunting, semi-forgotten terror. In one particularly striking scene, the protagonist, portrayed by Julian West with his piercing gaze, undergoes an out-of-body experience where he watches himself being carried in a glass coffin and buried. No horror film has ever conveyed death so vividly.

28 Days Later (2002)



As a cinephile, I find that the most gripping horror films don’t just frighten us; they shed light on our deepest fears about contemporary existence. In the realm of Danny Boyle’s groundbreaking zombie film, the looming dread of a contagious disease, in this case, the “rage virus,” foreshadowing COVID-19 by nearly two decades, unfolds with ruthless speed. The traditional portrayal of the shuffling “walking dead” or the drawn-out transformation process is discarded here. Instead, everything happens at breakneck pace, a fact that Boyle and screenwriter Alex Garland underscore from the instant Naomie Harris is compelled to brutally hack down an infected friend, mere moments after recognizing his condition. This chilling scene catches Cillian Murphy’s stunned character off guard. Filmed on compact, adaptable Mini DV cameras, the movie places viewers squarely in a post-apocalyptic London, eerily presaging the 2020 lockdown.

The Devils (1971)



In the 1970s, British filmmaker Ken Russell, known for his unconventional approach, created movies that often exceeded boundaries, ranging from portrayals of classical composers (“The Music Lovers,” “Mahler”) and rock operas (“Tommy”), to the sensual themes in D.H. Lawrence’s works (“Women in Love”). However, his most provocative film was “The Devils,” an adaptation of John Whiting’s play about a 17th-century Roman Catholic witch hunt. Russell transformed this into a shockingly grotesque depiction of repressed sexuality exploding with fury. Oliver Reed played the role of the strutting, doomed priest, while Vanessa Redgrave portrayed the hunchbacked abbess who was infatuated with him. Driven by jealousy, she incited a wave of sexual passion among the nuns, which also led to false accusations that escalated into fear and darkness. Upon close observation, one can discern a troubled human essence throbbing beneath Russell’s gruesome portrayal of savagery.

Bride of Frankenstein (1935)



The movie, being a sequel in the Universal Monsters series, showcases director James Whale playfully addressing one of the enduring conundrums in horror: resurrecting a villain who was defeated at the end of the initial film. In this installment, both Dr. Frankenstein (Colin Clive) and his monster (Boris Karloff) miraculously survive the inferno of the windmill and even an ensuing laboratory explosion in this film. Similar to its predecessor, the movie includes touching moments of human connection, such as when the monster forges a bond with a blind hermit (O.P. Heggie), who perceives him uniquely. As Bill Condon delved into in “Gods and Monsters,” Whale was secretly gay during a time when such identities were not openly discussed, and there’s a sense of melancholy to the monster’s futile quest for companionship. The movie also offers an electrifying scene as the doomed bride (Elsa Lanchester) is created, complete with a streak of white hair from a bolt of lightning.

Kwaidan (1964)



One might anticipate that horror films would have a particular style: dark and foreboding, filled with deep, suspenseful shadows. However, Japanese director Masaki Kobayashi chose a unique approach for his three-hour compilation of four classic ghost stories, often praised as one of the most beautiful movies ever made. This film, particularly its third chapter, which portrays a bald man whose body is covered in calligraphic script (except for his ears, which are vulnerable points), has a surreal, almost dreamlike quality that suggests it could have originated from an alternate reality. It’s worth mentioning: From “Ugetsu” to “Pitfall,” mid-century Japanese films were exploring ghost stories in more artistic ways than their Western counterparts. Nevertheless, the visual elegance Kobayashi brought to these tales was unlike anything audiences had ever seen before.

Freaks (1932)



While “Dracula” may have been director Tod Browning’s greater commercial success, his film “Freaks” (produced by MGM) carries a more chilling impact. The story unfolds within a community of carnival performers, celebrating their unique identities instead of hiding them away. As Universal Studios found success with their monster movies, Browning offered an alternative perspective where the only true monsters were the greedy Cleopatra (Olga Baclanova) and her strongman lover Hercules (Henry Victor). Their scheme involved marrying and murdering a little person named Hans (Harry Earles). Rather than being portrayed as mere curiosities, Hans’ companions banded together to protect him. Initially, Browning intended to push the boundaries further, but test audiences found the characters and their actions disturbing (they maimed Hercules!), leading to a studio-led recut of the film. After years of cult popularity, it now appears prophetic, foreshadowing the beauty-in-the-beast narratives seen in “The Shape of Water” and “A Different Man.

Deep Red (Profondo Rosso) (1975)



In Dario Argento’s chic Italian slasher, audiences are startled right from the opening scene, with children’s singing accompanying a grisly Christmas stabbing. The music, provided by progressive rock icons Goblin, becomes increasingly funky and complex as does the narrative. David Hemmings plays an English pianist who stumbles upon a murder and feels compelled to unravel the mystery, despite the apparent danger this puts him in from a ruthless killer or killers. Argento introduced such a twist well before “Scream” became popular. At the peak of the giallo genre he helped refine, the Italian director indulges in an excess of style: black gloves, eerie dolls, a menacing mansion, and numerous head injuries as victims’ heads are slashed, smashed, and even crushed by a speeding car. Gore enthusiasts will be satisfied with the abundant blood, vivid as paint, as Argento pushes boundaries to new graphic limits.

Hereditary (2018)



In simpler terms, Ari Aster’s chilling supernatural thriller, “Hereditary,” initially appears as a typical horror story about a family haunted by spirits. However, it stands out with its eerie and suspenseful atmosphere (Toni Collette delivers an emotionally intense performance comparable to Liv Ullmann). The film’s protagonist, Charlie (Milly Shapiro), experiences spectral visions that resemble characters from a “Smile” sequel. The narrative then focuses on Peter (Alex Wolff), the family’s melancholic high schooler, leading you to understand that the supernatural is invading the present reality. The finale is a breathtaking scene that leaves you feeling like you’ve stepped through a mirror into another world.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)



In the timeless B-movie masterpiece by Don Siegel, extraterrestrials appear as seed pods resembling vegetables, taking over a tranquil California town without anyone noticing. The intriguing aspect is that no one can distinguish the substitutes! Often referred to as an allegory for McCarthyism, this film’s underlying theme transcends politics and delves into social behavior. The movie, despite its rudimentary special effects, explores the conformity of the 1950s – an era characterized by pristine propriety that made it increasingly difficult to perceive raw human emotions lurking beneath. Towards the climax, when Kevin McCarthy’s panicked doctor looks straight into the camera and screams, “They’re already here! You’re next!”, he’s speaking about aliens – yet symbolically, they were always within us.

Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn (1987)



The number “2” in the title may deceive you: Sam Raimi’s audacious sequel to his low-budget gore masterpiece “The Evil Dead” is actually a “re-quel,” although it’s unabashedly cheesy. This clarifies why Bruce Campbell’s character Ash (who perished in the first installment) miraculously reappears, leading unsuspecting victims to a secluded cabin where their grisly demises await. An ancient text left behind at the scene is responsible for summoning various forms of supernatural chaos when it’s opened. Initially armed with an ax and then a chainsaw, Ash confronts his demonic visitors, whose extraordinary transformations are now renowned thanks to Greg Nicotero and Raimi’s past collaborator Tom Sullivan. While “The Evil Dead” had its devoted followers (including Stephen King), its more extreme reboot transformed into a cult classic viewed during the late-night hours, inspiring other horror directors (such as Peter Jackson) to push the boundaries of their creative visions as far as they dared.

M (1931)



Fritz Lang’s film, “M” (1931), set in Weimar Germany, is an expressionistic critique of urban life and its dangers. In the bustling city, villainy can hide unnoticed, preying on the weakest. The audience learns who the criminal is, portrayed by Peter Lorre, quite early; despite his heinous acts, which include targeting children, the film also provokes a sense of sympathy as the crowd seeks vengeance against such a pitiful figure. In the shift from silent films to sound, Lang and Hitchcock shared similar instincts for composition and suspense, often disturbing viewers with unusual angles, heavy shadows, and innovative tracking shots. The scariest parts of the movie are left to our imagination – not just the killings, but the looming specter of growing Nazi ideology, a concern for Lang as he anticipated its detrimental impact on German society.

The Night of the Hunter (1955)



Although not typically categorized as a horror film, Charles Laughton’s first directorial effort, The Night of the Hunter, presents one of cinema’s most chilling villains through Robert Mitchum’s portrayal of Harry Powell. This malevolent character, fresh out of prison, devises a plan to wed and murder his cellmate’s widow (Shelley Winters). Dressed in black, the imposing figure of Mitchum’s deep-voiced character casts a shadow over other characters, but particularly the two orphans. The film’s most unique and frequently imitated sequence occurs when these children attempt to escape surreally, floating downriver with Mitchum’s “preacher” in hot pursuit. This journey appears like a waking nightmare for the kids. It’s a movie that would be unsettling even for mature viewers, leaving audiences haunted by specific images, such as Powell’s knuckles bearing the words “LOVE” and “HATE.

Ringu (1998)



Drawing inspiration from Koji Suzuki’s bestselling novel, Hideo Nakata’s chilling supernatural thriller “Ringu” marked the inception of the J-horror craze during the early 2000s with its unique and flexible concept. The movie, about a cursed VHS tape that causes death to anyone who views it within a week, was remarkably remade by Gore Verbinski in 2002 as “The Ring” and spawned multiple sequels and English adaptations like “The Grudge” and “One Missed Call,” inspired by “Ju-On.” The original film skillfully blends an uneasy atmosphere with existential dread, most notably depicted by the haunting image of a long-haired spectral girl emerging from a television. Structurally complex and intended to provoke rather than offer fleeting frights, “Ringu” ignited a brief but impactful era in 21st-century horror.

Eyes Without a Face (1960)



The most melodious film ever created, exploring the sinister aspects of cosmetic surgery, is Georges Franju’s unsettling yet gracefully stylish French horror masterpiece. In this work, Dr. Génessier, a plastic surgeon in Paris (played by Pierre Brasseur), goes to extraordinary lengths to restore his daughter Christine’s (Édith Scob) disfigured face after a car accident. He abducts and anesthetizes a sequence of young women, surgically removing their faces for transplantation onto Christine’s damaged visage. However, none of the transplanted faces take hold — they are rejected by her body, similar to a failed heart transplant, necessitating the repetition of the gruesome procedure. Franju employs masks, such as the unsettling one worn by Christine that replicates her features, to instill a profound horror through implication, while maintaining just enough graphic surgical detail to leave a lasting impression.

The Phantom of the Opera (1925)



One unforgettable scene in certain horror films captivates viewers, such as the shower scene in “Psycho.” However, Rupert Julian’s classic silent horror film astonished audiences like no other with a single shot. This was the scene where the Phantom of the Opera, playing his organ deep within the Paris Opera House catacombs, reveals himself to Christine, his beloved protégée. As she reaches around his head to look at him, he removes his mask, and in a fit of agonizing fury, he screams, exposing his disfigured face. This face, with its drooping hair concealing a skull-like head, sunken eyes, and the grin of a madman, is one of the most haunting images ever captured on film. Lon Chaney, known for mastering grotesque makeup, truly lived up to his nickname “the man of a thousand faces” with this particularly chilling portrayal. The movie itself does an exceptional job of bringing this story to life, a tale that has been remade numerous times, including on Broadway, but none have struck the raw emotional note of the original.

The Wicker Man (1973)



As a devoted cinephile, I’d like to share my appreciation for a movie that stands out as a singular masterpiece in the horror genre – “The Wicker Man.” Unlike any film before or since, it left an indelible mark on cinema when it was released. Despite numerous attempts at imitation, it remains unparalleled.

Dracula (1931)



Among all Hollywood horror characters, Bela Lugosi’s portrayal of Bram Stoker’s vampire stands out uniquely as both undead and larger-than-life, particularly in Tod Browning’s film. Despite appearing somewhat stagey today, the eerie silence and spiderweb-laden castle exude an enduring enchantment that captivates from the first note of “Swan Lake” in the opening credits. Lugosi’s gargoyle-like visage and unnerving acting, which turned his linguistic awkwardness into something otherworldly, further solidifies this dark fairy tale of grand evil.

The Innocents (1961)



In a brilliant reimagining of Henry James’ “The Turn of the Screw,” director Jack Clayton delivers an unsettling portrayal of Deborah Kerr as Miss Giddens, a diligent governess who finds herself in over her head when tasked with caring for two fatherless children. This assignment leads her to a foreboding manor house on a secluded English estate, which could very well be haunted. The talented ensemble cast, including Kerr, hints at unsettling undercurrents beneath the children’s seemingly polite demeanor. However, the film’s true genius lies in its enigmatic nature, leaving it unclear whether supernatural forces are influencing the children or if their actions are driving Miss Giddens to the brink of madness. Regardless, “The Innocents” primarily disturbs on a psychological level, providing a handful of heart-stopping moments (such as the face at the window). Clayton’s timeless classic set the stage for many subsequent films, including “The Others” and Mike Flanagan’s Netflix miniseries “The Haunting of Bly Manor.

Scream (1996)



Wes Craven skillfully utilized ’90s self-awareness to create this masterful meta-horror: a slasher film featuring characters who are well-versed in the genre themselves. Defying audience assumptions by murdering the anticipated lead, Drew Barrymore, in the opening scene, “Scream” consistently subverted expectations. The attractive young cast was both intelligent and resourceful, the villain could be temporarily defeated during battles, and the enigma was unraveled through the characters’ fascination with horror movies and their tropes. Craven ingeniously redefined the horrors of the genre by acknowledging them and startling viewers who were too savvy to fall for traditional Hollywood tricks. Not only did “Scream” introduce an iconic Halloween costume in the form of Ghostface, but it also breathed new life into the genre; Kevin Williamson’s script demonstrated that beyond teen deaths and gore, horror movies could be witty and emotionally resonant.

The Blair Witch Project (1999)



By the close of the 90’s, the horror genre had been stripped of its shock value by slasher movies. Viewers could foresee every gory scene until three actors ventured into the woods with only a 35-page script and no idea about their fate. What followed was not your typical poor found-footage movie that’s usually filled with shaky camera work. Instead, this film stands as a testament to the art of tension and anticipation. Just like the characters on screen, we struggle to see beyond the next obstacle, keeping us on edge. Interestingly, in 1999, 11% of all internet users had visited the movie’s website, and Heather Donahue’s heartfelt monologue became an instant internet sensation. However, her largely improvised acting is considered one of the greatest performances in horror history. On your next viewing, consider it as a terrifying dream about a woman filmmaker battling to make her mark in the industry.

Dawn of the Dead (1978)



10 years following “Night of the Living Dead,” George A. Romero revisited horror and the zombie genre he pioneered, delivering a completely new theme this time. The sequel, produced with more resources and featuring increased gore, boasted vibrant colors for the blood (as vivid as melted crayons) and dull gray makeup on the shambling undead (both by Tom Savini).

Carnival of Souls (1962)



An exceptionally eerie, unique cinematic gem on a shoestring budget. Made by Herk Harvey, an industrial filmmaker, for just $33,000 in Lawrence, Kansas, “Carnival of Souls” carries a raw, pre-digital apprehension and possesses an uncanny quality that makes it a perfect choice for late-night viewing on television. The story revolves around a woman named Mary (played by Candace Hilligoss), who survives a car accident and later moves to Salt Lake City where she finds work as a church organist. However, she is inexorably attracted to an abandoned pavilion on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, serving as a haunting backdrop for this surreal movie set from another world. The film’s tense expressionistic ambiance combines elements of Bergman and Ed Wood, transforming into a cacophony of frightening visages, culminating in a twist that will leave you astonished.

Black Sunday (1960)



Mario Bava, often referred to as the master of Italian horror, significantly influenced the genre known as giallo. Despite his style evolving into more elaborate, violent, and ornate expressions over time, none of his films matched the impact of his debut. Titled “La Maschera del Demonio” in Italy (“The Mask of the Demon”), this film’s gripping title alludes to its chilling opening scene where a witch, played by Barbara Steele with haunting eyes, is given a bronze mask with a spike on the inside before her execution. The story then unfolds as a tale of vengeance, set two centuries later, that moves like a dream within the fog-filled confines of a studio lot. The spiked mask reappears to instill terror, while Bava conjures a force of horror in 1960 that was uncommon: the potent fury of female vengeance.

Get Out (2017)



Jordan Peele skillfully transforms a seemingly ordinary concept – a Black man (Daniel Kaluuya) encountering his white girlfriend’s (Allison Williams) affluent family – into a humorous, courageous, and unsettling commentary on race and identity in America. Initially, the film seems like a sharp critique of casual everyday racism, but as it progresses, the facade of politeness fades, revealing the depth of the terror Peele has created. What started as a biting satire evolves into an intense display, featuring monstrous characters who are eerily familiar and human. Peele continued to explore horror as a metaphor in “Us” and “Nope,” but none of his subsequent works matched the intensity and impact of his debut, for which he was rightfully awarded an original screenplay Oscar for its innovative and thought-provoking narrative. The film appeals to a wide audience while addressing a profound issue: the persistent bigotry among white Americans, which manages to survive despite societal progress.

The Mummy (1932)



In a different phrasing:

The Shining (1980)



Despite receiving mixed responses, including criticism from author Stephen King, Stanley Kubrick’s chilling adaptation of “The Shining” is so intricate, bizarre, and unsettling that it invites multiple viewings. It has spawned numerous theories and intense analysis for decades. In this film, Jack Torrance, portrayed by Jack Nicholson, and his wife Wendy (played by Shelley Duvall), are hired to manage the secluded and haunted Overlook Hotel. Their son, Danny Lloyd, navigates the hotel’s corridors while Jack’s sanity unravels under the influence of the hotel’s ghostly inhabitants. Both Duvall and Nicholson deliver captivating performances. However, it’s the Overlook Hotel itself that steals the show, as a sense of inexplicable terror lurks around every corner: elevators filled with rivers of blood, spooky twin girls, a dead guest in the green bathroom, and much more before Nicholson even brandishes his ax. Kubrick imbues each frame with an oppressive fear, offering a masterclass in visual storytelling and pacing, leaving audiences on edge as they wait for the terrifying surprises to come.

Diabolique (Les Diaboliques) (1955)



In an intriguing twist, only in France could a man’s wife and mistress collaborate on such a chilling act, setting the stage for Henri-Georges Clouzot’s gripping masterpiece, “Les Diaboliques.” During this black-and-white thriller, Véra Clouzot (my contemporary at the time) and Simone Signoret drown Paul Meurisse’s character in a bathtub and discard his body in a school pool. However, instead of being found there as they had intended, the corpse vanishes — leading to strange, implausible events unfolding. Moments after the shocking twist unfolds, a cautionary message flashes across the screen: “Avoid being diabolical,” it urges, encouraging viewers to preserve the surprise for others. Rest assured, we respect this wish, other than to say that what makes this film so compelling even now is that its audience remains unsure of what they’re witnessing. Is it a murder mystery? A ghost story? The allure of Alfred Hitchcock to adapt it was undeniable, but Clouzot beat him to the punch.

Halloween (1978)



As a devoted cinephile, I can’t help but reminisce about my experience with the wave of slasher films that flooded the cinematic landscape during the 1980s – films that Roger Ebert derisively labeled as “dead teenager movies.” It was disheartening to see so many poor imitations of classics like “Black Christmas,” especially after the brutal gore of “Friday the 13th” took the genre by storm.

Don’t Look Now (1973)



The chilling masterpiece “Don’t Look Now,” directed by Nicolas Roeg, is brimming with eerie foreshadowing and unsettling edits, showcasing Roeg’s exceptional talent as a director who skillfully manipulates time and memory in cinema. At that time, the leads, Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie, were deemed incredibly sexy, but watching them now, they embody more accurately their characters – an attractive yet ordinary middle-class couple still grappling with the tragic accidental death of their young daughter. The movie unfolds in Venice, where Sutherland’s character, an art restorer, rebuilds an old church, and Roeg depicts Venice as a city of spirits, making it the film’s hidden strength – creating an unsettling, ominous atmosphere that pervades every canal until it ultimately materializes and catches you off guard. Adapting Daphne du Maurier’s short story, Roeg introduces the first cinematic Gothic of the modern era, portraying a supernatural realm that seems incongruous in its existence. A pervasive sense of fear envelops “Don’t Look Now,” but the film is about something more than just scaring you (though it does so exceptionally well at the climax, which could be the archetype of jump scares). It delves into a cosmic rift.

Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (1922)



In 2021, “Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey” might have discovered a way around copyright regulations, enabling its creators to distort well-known characters in an unoriginal manner. However, shameless imitations are far from unique within the horror genre. Over a century ago, German director F.W. Murnau showcased the most notable instance of this practice with his film “Nosferatu,” where he simply altered some names while borrowing extensively from Bram Stoker’s “Dracula.” The producers neglected to acquire the necessary rights, leading to a legal dispute with the author’s estate. Nevertheless, what truly sets “Nosferatu” apart are the innovative aspects it introduced. With nothing but body language, silent actor Max Schreck brought to life a chilling character, relying on the silhouette to instill fear: His pointed ears, bulging eyes, hunched shoulders, and long bony fingers that curled like talons were enough to strike terror. Now that “Nosferatu” is part of the public domain, others are free to utilize this iconic figure.

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)



In the exceptional psychological thriller directed by Jonathan Demme, Hannibal Lecter is not the sought-after serial killer; that title belongs to Ted Levine’s character, Buffalo Bill. However, it speaks volumes about Anthony Hopkins’ portrayal of the criminally insane psychiatrist that he seems even more sinister than the mentally disturbed antagonist piecing together a human suit from his victims’ skins. Jodie Foster delivers an outstanding performance as the green FBI agent tasked with recruiting a psychopath’s aid, despite her character appearing both strong and visibly intimidated by the challenge. Despite being confined within bulletproof glass, Lecter wields immense power over everyone involved, even manipulating his cellmate to take his own life. Hopkins skillfully imbues his chilling character with such a refined sense of danger that his psychological games appear predestined from the outset — and they are indeed, as he always remains one step ahead, eventually escaping captivity at the end.

King Kong (1933)



A movie titled “Kong” portrays a monstrous yet innocent giant gorilla who is transported from his ancient habitat to bustling New York City for a spectacular exhibition. Despite his fearsome nature, Kong also evokes a sense of sorrow and empathy as he finds himself in a tragic predicament. The film’s scenes set on the dinosaur-filled Skull Island showcase Ray Harryhausen’s groundbreaking stop-motion techniques, still captivating viewers with their magic. When Kong carries off the original scream queen, Fay Wray, and scales the Empire State Building to fight off attacking aircraft, the film becomes an unforgettable emotional journey about a mysterious, fearsome creature from another world.

Alien (1979)



Two years after “Star Wars” offered a family-friendly taste of science fiction, director Ridley Scott dramatically shifted the tone, presenting space travel as a dark and menacing concept in a manner never before seen. Initially, screenwriter Dan O’Bannon conceived the script for a low-budget B movie titled “Star Beast,” but Fox showed great interest, leading to an unprecedented sci-fi experiment: a high-budget, R-rated monster movie, helmed by a relatively inexperienced director of television commercials. With only one feature film under his belt, Scott possessed a knack for creating atmosphere and shared O’Bannon’s appreciation for the unsettling designs of Swiss artist H.R. Giger. Thus, the most terrifying creature ever depicted on screen emerged, seemingly drawn from our collective subconscious, still wet with toxic amniotic fluids. The film also featured a memorable jump scare (the chest burster) and a robust female lead (Sigourney Weaver), thereby redefining the sci-fi horror genre forevermore.

Carrie (1976)



Pure fairy-tale horror bliss. Adapting Stephen King’s first novel, a kind of Cinderella-goes-to-the-prom-and-gets-a-bloodbath, Brian De Palma made a movie mired in suspense, yet he also connected fully with the human side of the story in a way that’s rare for him. Sissy Spacek’s Carrie, the cringing high school wallflower who suffers a sort of scene-to-scene PTSD at the hands of her raging fundamentalist mother (not to mention the mean girls at school), is so touching in her freckled-geek vulnerability that Spacek’s performance is transporting. What she and Piper Laurie, as the psycho mama, play out is nothing less than “The Glass Menagerie” with “dirty pillows” and flying knives. And the climactic sequence at the prom is suffused with such teetering romance that when it turns into a massacre, the audience feels like it’s fusing with the demons of Carrie’s telekinetic vengeance. The final shocker effectively set up the end of “Halloween,” and it’s the scariest outro of any horror movie.

Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom (1975)



As a cinephile, I can confidently say that no film has ever left me as unsettled and intimidating as Pier Paolo Pasolini’s final opus, “Salò, or The 120 Days of Sodom.” Set in the ominous villa on Lake Garda, a location once occupied by the infamous Mussolini during his last days, this film serves as a biting critique of both fascism and neo-capitalism. In Pasolini’s hands, human bodies become commodities, reflecting the dehumanizing aspects of modern society.

Frankenstein (1931)



The ultimate and perfect monster movie. Let’s not forget that in the early ’30s, Boris Karloff ’s creature, now the quintessential overfamiliar icon of Old Hollywood horror, was an image of pure disfigured terror, with dead eyes embedded in a head that was a square block of flesh, and a hulking physique that was homicidal almost by happenstance. Adapting Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel, director James Whale made a Gothic Faustian sci-fi drama that’s a masterpiece of storytelling (so much happens in the film … and it’s only 69 minutes long). Colin Clive’s performance as the mad doctor, possessed by his desire to bring what is dead to life, is driven by a hysteria at once cracked and reverent (“It’s alive!”). And Karloff ’s genius, under all that makeup, was to give the creature a wounded vulnerability without ever quite making him conscious.

Audition (1999)



It’s no secret that a great many horror films are rooted in the depiction of male rage against women. You don’t see the reverse too often, but it would be no exaggeration to say that Takashi Miike’s ultraviolent thriller is the “Citizen Kane” of visionary sadistic feminist revenge fantasies. The film lures us in with restrained cunning, as it conjures a sympathy for Shigeharu (Ryo Ishibashi), a widower whose movie- producer friend arranges a mock casting audition for him so that he can find a new wife. He meets Asami (Eihi Shiina) and thinks he’s found the ideal mate. But don’t judge a geisha wife by her cover. Asami is a warped victim whose mission is to put men through the tortures of the damned. Miike stages the film like a suburban grand opera set in a pain-freak inferno. Your jaw will drop in horror, yet “Audition” is no exploitation movie. It’s a cathartic drama in which Shiina’s performance conjures a terrifying image of the dark side of empowerment.

Night of the Living Dead (1968)



From Dracula to Frankenstein to (real-world sicko) Jack the Ripper, so many of America’s most fearsome monsters were European in origin. But not the zombie. Despite in-name-only connections to Caribbean voodoo, the notion of brain-dead corpses rising from their graves — as presented in George A. Romero’s genre-defining classic — is as homegrown a fear as horror cinema has to offer, and like the vaguely defined contagion featured in “Night of the Living Dead,” it has spawned hordes of imitators. A lean, low-budget, black-and-white shocker (released at a time when nearly two-thirds of American films were made in color), the original remains the most potent: The world as we know it has spun out of control, and the only place to hide is a vulnerable farmhouse, where the flesh-eating remains of our fellow citizens have turned against us. By casting Black actor Duane Jones in the lead, Romero gave audiences additional social commentary to read into a film born at a time of racial tensions and civil unrest.

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)



By the close of the 1960s, the belief that evil existed in the world wasn’t entirely unbelievable. Roman Polanski’s chilling thriller is deeply rooted in a fearful portrayal of pregnancy, showing understanding towards the very women it might terrify. However, it subtly hints at a society growing comfortable with embracing the end times. It represents one of the most intimate films ever made about Satan. Mia Farrow, sporting a Vidal Sassoon haircut that transforms into a haunting representation of death-camp style, delivers an unforgettable performance as Rosemary, an innocent wife to an ambitious stage actor (John Cassavetes). They strike a deal with the cult of devil worshippers living next door, who promise to summon Satan to impregnate Rosemary, in return for her husband’s desired career success. Ruth Gordon, playing the devil’s manipulative sidekick tasked with caring for Rosemary, embodies the ordinary nature of evil, and the film creates such intense paranoia and suspense that it stands as one of the last remarkable examples of classical movie-making to emerge from New Hollywood.

Jaws (1975)



A good horror movie gives audiences a couple really good jolts. It might even motivate them to sleep with the lights on that night. But few have so fundamentally altered human behavior the way “Jaws” did, compelling millions to steer clear of the water. Sure, sharks had always been scary, but the young Steven Spielberg’s chaotic-to-make (but ultimately mega-successful) blockbuster gave normal folks reason to fear they might be attacked in the most unlikely of places: in lakes, pools and beaches where nary a fin had ever been sighted. The opening scene — an ill-fated midnight swim — hinted at what could be lurking beneath the surface, while the decision to shoot from the shark’s POV (plus John Williams’ pulse-accelerating score) let our imaginations do the work. By the time the giant prop shark attacks the boat at the end, audiences had invested the prehistoric species with nearly supernatural power. The danger may have been exaggerated, but the threat felt real.

Psycho (1960)



Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece “Psycho” stands as an unprecedented milestone in cinematic horror, which might seem inconceivable considering its initial reception in 1960 – it was seen as an entertaining yet low-budget endeavor, akin to a seedy funhouse. However, six decades later, the significance of every element and symbol in “Psycho” – such as birds, drains, eyes, windshield wipers, stairways, swamps, shrieking violins, Mrs. Bates’ Victorian-bunned head, among others – is nothing less than timelessly iconic. Hitchcock transformed his TV crew into crafting a Gothic mystery of primal terror hidden in a trapdoor, compelling us to examine our own fear while watching the film. In its most renowned scene (78 shots of prolonged, agonizing death), he subtly pulled back the plastic shower curtain, leaving us questioning not just Marion Crane’s safety but the very existence of divine protection: a chilling foreshadowing that no amount of goodness would be enough to shield anyone. From that moment on, we are completely captivated by the Master’s skill. The more one watches “Psycho,” the more they recognize Anthony Perkins’ performance as a timeless embodiment of cunning and terror.

The Exorcist (1973)



Prior to director William Friedkin’s adaptation of William Peter Blatty’s novel, on-screen possession was primarily a party trick: a form of glorified hypnosis where a gullible individual’s eyes would glaze over and they’d follow someone else’s orders. However, Blatty tapped into something much older, a phenomenon that even experts in religion found challenging to comprehend. Fifty years later, the power of Friedkin’s (supposedly fainting-inducing) masterpiece still captivates because everyone involved gave their all to make demonic possession seem genuine. As Linda Blair’s character Regan is drawn further into darkness, Ellen Burstyn portrays the parental desperation of a mother unable to understand what’s wrong with her child. Her unwavering pursuit of rational explanations heightens the impact of the supernatural events that follow, such that a simple arteriogram feels as harrowing as Regan’s projectile vomiting. The evil in this story seems extreme, but also plausible. In today’s world, would you trust the Catholic Church to handle it?

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)



Few horror films manage to capture the essence of a genuine nightmare – that haunting, surreal terror that makes you feel as if the nightmare is actually happening. In 1974, merely mentioning “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” could instill fear in you. The words “Texas. Chain. Saw. Massacre.” themselves seemed to play out the movie in your mind’s eye, like a grisly snuff film from a bat-house. However, as more and more people watched it, the most surprising aspect of “The Texas Chain Saw” was its exceptional quality as a terrifying masterpiece. Tobe Hooper skillfully directed this chilling film with a suspenseful lyrical quality reminiscent of an existential grindhouse Hitchcock. He transformed a story about five post-hippie teenagers traveling in a van through the Texas wilderness into a descent into America’s darkest depths.

The main visual motif in this movie is a massive, mute, and mentally handicapped character named Leatherface, who dons a mask made from human flesh and uses power tools as deadly instruments. He’s a pioneer among the masked killers that terrorize the slasher genre (such as Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees), but what sets him apart is his motivation – he isn’t driven by rage, like them. Instead, he can be described as a slaughterman, systematically eliminating people with a brutality reminiscent of cattle slaughter. You could call it the annihilation of compassion.

Over the past five decades, “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” has left an indelible mark on the horror genre, much like “Psycho” or “The Exorcist.” Instead of just creating fear, it established a chilling mythology that seems more relevant today than ever before. The movie captured the deterioration of the American spirit, a feeling we can sense in our current times. Ultimately, what makes “Chain Saw” so unforgettable and eerie is its portrayal of madness as the force driving the universe: Leatherface, brandishing his chain saw against the backdrop of the rising sun, his frenzied dance of death serving not only as a ritual but as a dire prophecy – that order will crumble. That evil lurks around the corner.

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2024-10-09 16:30