Freaks
Tod Browning cast real sideshow performers, MGM cut a third of it, and it ended his career.
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.
486 films · page 12 of 14
Tod Browning cast real sideshow performers, MGM cut a third of it, and it ended his career.
The third of Carpenter's Apocalypse Trilogy and the most explicitly Lovecraftian thing he made.
A robotics engineer builds an AI doll to parent her orphaned niece, and the doll takes the job seriously.
Peele's best-looking film. About spectacle, and about what happens to the people who handle the animals.
A cursed videotape and seven days. Reset the entire international horror market.
A curse that passes by witnessing. Cheap scares, but the mechanism is sound and the ending commits.
Barely a plot and possibly the most beautiful horror film ever shot.
Six women, an uncharted cave, and a group dynamic already poisoned before anything goes wrong.
Carpenter's follow-up to Halloween: a Californian coastal town, a hundredth anniversary, and something owed.
Craven remaking Bergman on no money. To avoid fainting, keep repeating: it's only a movie.
Joel Schumacher's MTV vampires in a California beach town, and it made the genre cool for a decade.
A musical about a policeman with no sense of humour. The best British horror film ever made.
The film Hitchcock tried to buy and missed. Ends with a title card asking you not to spoil it.
A haunted mirror, and a sister trying to prove it killed her parents by filming it destroying her too.
Structured as a courtroom drama, which is a smarter frame than the subgenre usually gets.
Shot on black and white 35mm in a 1.19:1 box. Two men, a rock, and a great deal of drinking.
Most of the dialogue comes from court records, then it commits fully to the supernatural.
Mickey Rourke hunts a missing crooner for a client called Louis Cyphre, and the answer is the worst possible one.
The Universal cycle's best film. Whale is openly funny and openly on the monster's side.
Clive Barker adapting his own novella, and the Cenobites are on screen for about eight minutes.
A film about grief that turns out to be a film about a cult. Toni Collette should have won everything.
The super-8 reels are the film. Everything between them is a man in an office not turning the lights on.
Won the Palme d'Or. A film about a woman, a car and a grieving fireman, and it is not a comedy.
John Cusack alone in a hotel room for most of the running time, and it is the best single-location King film.
Del Toro doing full gothic romance. The house is the best thing in it and it is sinking.
Grief, Venice, and an edit that keeps showing you the ending before you can read it.
A haunted house film in space, hated on release, and the studio destroyed roughly thirty minutes of it.
The best paranoia film ever made, and it works whichever politics you bring to it.
Runs backwards and uses infrasound to make you physically unwell. About 200 walked out at Cannes.
Eggers going back to Murnau rather than to Stoker. Filthy, plague-ridden, and Orlok has a moustache.
Reworks Universal's monster into a film about being disbelieved. The empty corners of the frame do the work.
The premise does not survive scrutiny and the film is so well made you will not care until afterwards.
Seventeen children leave their houses at 2.17am. Cregger structures it as overlapping chapters and it pays off.
Boyle and Garland back together, shot largely on iPhones rigged in arrays. Stranger than the sequel anybody expected.
Fede Alvarez taking the franchise back to basics: young colonists, a derelict station, and one very bad idea.
Rick Baker won the first ever Academy Award for makeup for a transformation that hurts to watch.