AN Idiosyncratic Horror List

Last night on social media I provided a list of introductory horror movies. It included the following:

• Psycho (1960, d. Alfred Hitchcock)
• The Haunting (1963, d. Robert Wise)
• Night of the Living Dead (1968, d. George Romero)
• Rosemary's Baby (1968, d. Roman Polanski)
• The Exorcist (1973, d. William Friedkin)
• Alien (1979, d. Ridley Scott)
• Ringu (1998, d. Video Nakata)
• Pan's Labyrinth (2006, d. Guillermo Del Toro)
• Hereditary (2018, d. Ari Aster)

I usually find these lists a challenge—not because of how difficult they are to put together, but how easy. Seriously, if you want to provide an introductory viewing list, you find yourself recommending a lot of pretty standard titles. As a CineFix host opined on their Top Five Horror Movies of All Time video, horror has a strong center; there’s something about this particular genre that makes the classics more classic than most. Take a look at the above list. You can ask why, say, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre didn’t make the cut, or why David Cronenberg is absent, but by and large the selections I included are pretty much unarguable.

Because of this, I began wondering what my list would look like if I didn’t include any of my previous selections. I love the ten previously listed, but I keep wondering what gems are hidden from somebody who sees Hereditary or Us and wonders what else might be available. So here’s a list of ten additional introductory horror movies. I’d like to say this is more idiosyncratic, but many still probably meet the criteria of “classic.” The only limitations I included were (1) they could not have appeared on the previous list, (2) only one movie per director (which is why you don’t see Curse of the Demon here), and (3) no director in the previous list can appear here.

• Cat People (1942, d. Jacques Tourneur). Subtle and atmospheric, this creepy picture remains incredibly effective due to its rich shadows and understated performances. It may be too subdued for some, but those open to its rich imagery will find it getting under their skin.
• Gojira (1954, d. Ishiro Honda). Yes, we know Godzilla from the myriad sequels, but few know the original, to say nothing of how terrifying it is. Honda makes effective use of black-and-white, and manages to play on the fears of the after-effects of Hiroshima. Look for the original without added scenes featuring Raymond Burr.
• Profondo Rosso (1975, d. Dario Argento). Suspiria is seen as the landmark, but I prefer Argento's mid-1970s giallo, with its insane storyline (when Argento still bothered with narrative, however begrudgingly), garish color (the Technicolor palette is almost blinding), and of course the eye-opening, lavishly absurd kills.  I haven't even begun to talk about Goblins's soundtrack or chiaroscuro set design. Seriously, if you haven't seen it, you're in for a ride.
• Phantasm (1979, d. Don Coscareli). I first saw this when I was twelve, and wasn't prepared for its bizarre mix of science fiction, nightmare, and hallucinatory surrealism.  I began searching for regularly for work sharing its dreamlike quality after watching the edited version on one of Houston's UHF channels in the summer of 1980.
• The Fog (1980, d. John Carpenter). Look, Halloween is the O.G. of the slasher movie, and The Thing remains one of the most terrifying horror movies ever made. But in between those milestones, John Carpenter made this moody, at times overstated ghost story involving a revenant-haunted clipper ship seeking revenge against a small town. I'll agree that it isn't up to the same level of its bookends (or Prince of Darkness), but it's still a fun ride.
• Jennifer’s Body (2009, d. Karyn Kusama). I wasn't quite sure I liked Jennifer's Body when I first saw it, but subsequent viewing made me realize how subversive its messaging is. Kusama makes us question how we view women, especially in the fetishization of star Megan Fox, and the insidiousness of friendship and love. (Kusama's 2015 feature The Invitation also is worth your time).
• Hell House LLC (2015, d. Stephen Cognetti). Found footage movies receive a lot of criticism, often with cause. but when done effectively, as here, it turns a tired and lazy format into something more sinister and sublime. The sequels also are good, but if you only watch one, make it this.
• Revenge (2017, d. Coralie Fargeat). Seriously, what else can you call a revenge tale? This fantastic feature has the hyper-saturated color of a giallo with some of Jennifer's Body's commentary, but always remains its own story.
• The Lodge (2019, ds. Severin Fiala and Veronika Franz). Loss, grief, and resentment are the themes here.  It opens with a matter-of-fact suicide, and ends with...no, no spoilers. But it's chilling, and not because of its snowy landscapes.
• X (2022, d. Ti West). There are horror fans who don't like the movies coming out of A24, but they tend to produce work that matches my own interior landscape. Ti West's newest balances on the razor's edge of art and schlock, with a strong script and tight direction.