His House
A South Sudanese couple in British asylum housing. The haunting and the bureaucracy are the same thing.
486 entries, from the 1931 Universal cycle to last year. Curated, not exhaustive: a short shelf of things worth knowing about beats a long one nobody can navigate.
82 films · page 2 of 3
A South Sudanese couple in British asylum housing. The haunting and the bureaucracy are the same thing.
A German alpine resort, Hunter Schafer, and Dan Stevens doing an accent. Deeply strange.
A 1977 Halloween talk show broadcast, live, going wrong. David Dastmalchian finally gets a lead.
Alex Garland being about as subtle as a church door. The final sequence is remarkable regardless.
Barely a horror film and one of the most upsetting things on this site. About a life not lived.
Danish. About politeness, and the ending is the bleakest thing in this decade of horror.
The title card arrives 33 minutes in, which tells you what kind of film it intends to be.
Soderbergh shoots the entire film from the ghost's point of view, handheld, in long takes. It works.
The Philippou brothers' second, and considerably harder to sit through than the first. Sally Hawkins is the reason.
Brandon Cronenberg again. Wealthy tourists, a legal loophole and Mia Goth having a wonderful time.
Icelandic, extremely slow, and entirely dependent on you accepting the thing in the second act.
Technicolor melodrama with a pitchfork. Mia Goth's final monologue is a single unbroken take.
Dumped by the studio with no marketing, runs 137 minutes, and has a 20-minute prologue people rave about.
A fake trailer from Grindhouse turned into a real slasher, and it is a very good one.
Rebecca Hall carrying a film about grief with unusual use of negative space.
Seventy years on, the series returns to what it was for: the war, the guilt, and the cost.
The weakest of West's trilogy and still a better-shot 1985 Los Angeles than most films manage.
Unrated, made for very little, outgrossed studio horror, and the effects are the entire proposition.
A prequel nobody wanted that turned out to be the best-directed studio horror of its year.
James Wan spending studio money on something deranged. The third act is one of the great swerves.
A kidnapping that goes wrong in the most enjoyable way. Very wet, very fast, very funny.
The shadow-puppet sequences are the best thing in it. A sequel that is actually about the original.
Nunsploitation with a real budget. The last shot is a single unbroken take and it is the reason to watch.
Osgood Perkins doing King as a gore comedy. The deaths are elaborate and the film is laughing.
Nicolas Cage plays Dracula as a toxic boss, and his familiar wants to leave the relationship. A horror comedy about codependency.
An embalmed hand, a ninety-second rule, and teenagers filming it. The Philippou brothers' first feature.
Ari Aster's three-hour anxiety odyssey, and it is horror only in the sense that being alive is.
Two missionaries, one house, and Hugh Grant enjoying himself enormously as the worst man alive.
Marketed better than almost any horror film this decade. The first hour earns it, the last act is arguable.
A porn crew shoot on a Texas farm in 1979. Ti West doing the texture of the era properly.
Go in knowing nothing. The structure is the point and every synopsis ruins it.
Shyamalan's high-concept swing: a serial killer takes his daughter to a pop concert that is a police trap for him.
A black bear ingests a fortune in dropped cocaine and goes on a rampage. Loosely, very loosely, based on a true event.
A weekend away with a reveal in the first act rather than the third, which is the smart choice.
Moves the cabin to a Los Angeles tower block. The cheese grater is the sequence people talk about.
A robotics engineer builds an AI doll to parent her orphaned niece, and the doll takes the job seriously.