Le Manoir du Diable, the first horror movie on record, was made only one year after Arrival of a Train, the first film ever. That’s about 125 years of film, which means there’s 125 years worth of horror for fans to choose from. The sheer quantity of horror movies produced in that amount of time is almost incalculable, which for a cinephile is hell because it’s impossible to see them all. There are hundreds of thousands of movies and if you don’t know where to look, you’re bound to miss some good ones. Because of the numerous subgenres within subgenres, the VHS boom of the ’80s, and the constant stream of new shit being released every week, combing through the entire history of horror is a daunting task. This list was made to shine a light on a select few you might not have seen that I think are worth your time.
Welcome back to 100 Overlooked Horror Movies You Need to See.
80. The Innocents (2022)
The theme song of Phineas and Ferb reminds us that there are one hundred and four days of summer vacation and that, for a kid, the hardest thing is figuring out what to do with all that time. When you’re that young, summer vacation feels endless. The days stretch out like an ocean of possibility but for some, that ocean is filled with sharks. The Innocents takes that suburban lull of childhood, that fragile mix of wonder and cruelty, and slowly curdles it into horror. The film follows a small group of children who discover they can do things no one else can. Move objects. Speak through thoughts. Hurt each other without lifting a finger. It starts as a secret game, a shared discovery of power.
But like all playground politics, it doesn’t take long for someone to cross the line. Ben, the group’s dark star, is what happens when power is stripped of responsibly. How can one punish a child who has the gifts of a god? But unlike Brightburn or other movies involving evil children with superpowers, the outside world doesn’t get involved. This is a war waged in whispers and glances, with the world none the wiser. Vogt never resorts to jump scares or exposition dumps. He trusts unease to do the work. Every act of psychic violence hits harder because it’s framed as play. The Innocents isn’t about evil kids. It’s about how power doesn’t corrupt; it reveals. And in this world, the children aren’t the future. They’re the warning.
79. Hellbender (2021)
Hellbender is what happens when you raise your kid on black metal, witchcraft, and DIY filmmaking instead of Little League. It’s a family affair in the most literal (and most sinister) sense. Written, directed, shot, and scored by the Adams family (yes, really), it’s a homespun horror film that feels like it was conjured out of moss, blood, and rebellion. At its core, it’s a coming-of-age story—if “coming of age” meant “discovering you’re a demonic apex predator.” Izzy (Zelda Adams) lives in isolation with her mother (Toby Poser) in the woods, where they spend their days jamming in a two-piece metal band and foraging for food that’s suspiciously free of meat. Mom says it’s because Izzy’s sick. Mom lies. When Izzy meets another teenager and tastes a drop of blood for the first time, something ancient wakes up inside her. And what follows isn’t just a descent into witchcraft, it’s a psychedelic awakening. A reclamation of power that’s both liberating and terrifying.
What makes Hellbender special isn’t its budget (there practically isn’t one) but its conviction. The Adams family are clearly interested in making mood pieces rather than conventional horror narratives. There’s an honesty in its rough edges, a sense of discovery that mirrors Izzy’s own transformation. You can feel the filmmakers experimenting, pushing, creating magic in real time. This isn’t their first film but it has the rawness of a debut and that’s a compliment. They’re clearly not interested in playing by the rules of the Hollywood system. They make the films they want to make and that attitude is in every frame of Hellbender. Equal parts The VVitch, Carrie, and garage punk fever dream, Hellbender proves you don’t need Hollywood money to make movie magic—just a camera, a forest, and a little black magic in your veins.
78. Winterbeast (1992)
Everything I’ve heard about this movie is true. I was told it was crazy. I was told it was impossible to follow. I was told it’s beyond bad. I heard everything and even saw clips but nothing could’ve prepared me for Winterbeast. Here’s the gist of the plot — though “plot” might be generous: Set in a small New England town near Wild Goose Lodge, the film follows Ranger Bill Whitman, a park ranger investigating a series of disappearances and brutal deaths that seem to be connected to Native American totem legends. His partner and the local lodge owner help him try to make sense of the increasingly bizarre occurrences — like people being torn apart by unseen forces or turning up mutilated beyond belief. It turns out the culprit is a demonic entity known as the Winterbeast, an ancient spirit awakened by a cursed totem pole. The creature uses an army of stop-motion monstrosities (everything from clay zombies to a chicken-headed demon) to kill off anyone nearby.
There are scenes where two characters are talking and for no discernible reason, they’ll change the angle and it’s two completely different actors carrying on like nothing happened and then like 30 seconds later, they’d change back. Why not just cut that small chunk of time out of the movie? There’s no reason to recast those roles for a scene that lasts less than a minute. But this movie plays by no one’s rules. It will assault your ears with the worst dialogue ever written. It will stop the movie dead to have the main bad guy dance around corpses while wearing a clown mask and lip syncing for five minutes straight. It will barrage you with the worst stop-motion effects this side of Equinox. Whoever made the rules of cinema (all the camera angles you never break and what not) would take one look at this movie and cry. It does everything wrong but in doing so, it did everything right. This is slowly becoming one of my favorite pieces of gonzo trash. There’s nothing else like Winterbeast.
77. Def by Temptation (1990)
If you Google “blaxploitation horror films”, you’ll get classics like Blacula, Sugar Hill, J.D’s Revenge, and Tales from the Hood. Lesser-known titles such as Petey Wheatstraw, the Devil’s Son-in-Law, Bones, and Abby will also pop up. Def by Temptation is nowhere to be found and I’m unclear as to why. It was released within the blaxploitation bubble (it came out six years before Original Gangstas, the sub-genres swan song), but more importantly, it’s both horror and blaxploitation.
Directed by James Bond III, who also stars in the film, is the story of a young divinity student named Joel who visits New York City, where he encounters a seductive and deadly succubus. The film excels in creating a moody and eerie atmosphere, enhanced by its urban setting. The use of low lighting, shadowy interiors, and vibrant colors gives the film a surreal, nightmarish quality. It’s a style reminiscent of 1970s horror but with a distinctive early ’90s twist. The performances are solid, with standout roles from Samuel L. Jackson, who plays a brief but memorable role, and Kadeem Hardison, who brings a grounded presence as Joel’s cousin, K. James Bond III gives a decent performance, though his dual role as director and star sometimes leads to uneven pacing. The film isn’t perfect but like every other film within the genre, it succeeds more than it fails.
76. Dream Home (2010)
Dream Home is the kind of film that justifies the ridiculous hunt horror fanatics go on to find those hidden gems worth discovery. The film has a great story that hasn’t been told a million times and has one of the most compelling female protagonists in modern horror, but since it has a title that doesn’t at all indicate it’s a horror movie, most don’t even know it exists. Cheng Lai Sheung is both a victim and a perpetrator, which creates a complex and unsettling dynamic. On one hand, she’s driven by a deep-seated desire to own her dream home, a goal rooted in a tragic past and a harsh socio-economic reality. The character embodies the frustrations of those left behind by Hong Kong’s skyrocketing real estate market. Her desire for a home is not just personal but also symbolic of the struggles faced by many in a society where owning property is increasingly out of reach.
Her descent into violence can be seen as a critique of the socio-economic pressures that push individuals to their breaking points. This makes her a representative of broader societal issues, adding depth to her character and the film’s narrative. Unlike many horror films where the female protagonist is the victim or the one who escapes the killer, Dream Home subverts this trope by making Lai Sheung both the protagonist and the predator. This subversion adds to the film’s impact, as it challenges audience expectations and places them in the uncomfortable position of following and, to some extent, rooting for a character who is deeply flawed and morally compromised.
75. Caveat (2020)
With Caveat and Oddity under his belt, Damian Mc Carthy is slowly becoming the best name in horror you’ve never heard of. His films are dripping in dread and atmosphere and have some of the best jump scares in the game. Caveat tells the story of Isaac (Jonathan French), a drifter with partial memory loss who is hired by Barrett (Ben Caplan) to look after his troubled niece, Olga (Leila Sykes), in a secluded, dilapidated house. However, there’s a catch—or “caveat.” Isaac must wear a leather harness and chain that limits his movement around the house. As the weekend unfolds, Isaac discovers that the house holds dark secrets, and Olga’s mental state may be far more dangerous than he initially thought.
Caveat is a minimalist horror film that excels in creating an almost palpable feeling of unease. Damian Mc Carthy’s directorial debut is a masterclass in low-budget horror, relying more on mood, tension, and unsettling visuals than on jump scares or gore. The film is set in a claustrophobic environment, and the sense of isolation is palpable from the very beginning. The premise itself is unnerving—the idea of being chained in a creepy house with a possibly disturbed young woman is a terrifying setup. The house, with its decaying interiors and eerie rabbit figurine that serves as a bizarre warning device, is almost a character in itself, contributing to the film’s tense atmosphere.
The film has a bafflingly low IMDb score, which I can only assume means most didn’t gel with its intentional pace and ambiguity. It is most certainly an abstract narrative that leaves many questions unanswered, which I understand would be frustrating to those looking for a clear resolution or explanation. But for those who appreciate horror that leans into the surreal and psychological, the ambiguity and lack of answers add to the film’s unsettling charm.
74. Exhuma (2024)
I feel bad for those who can’t read fast because most of the great horror of the last 25 years has subtitles. Foreign films, especially those from South Korea, have been crushing it for a very long time. They’ve pumped out so many creepy classics over the years, it’s impossible to name them all. Exhuma is yet another example of their utter dominance over American horror films and despite it coming out this year to critical acclaim, I’m guessing it’s a title you’ve never even heard of.
A shaman and a geomancer are hired by a wealthy family to lift a curse that has plagued their lineage. This task involves exhuming the remains of a patriarch buried on the border between North and South Korea, which sets off a series of supernatural events deeply tied to Korea’s historical traumas, particularly its conflicts with Japan. The film avoids typical horror tropes, instead opting for a slow-burning, eerie atmosphere that builds tension through its rich narrative and stunning visuals.
Like most horror films that come out of that country, it looks absolutely incredible. The cinematography by Lee Mo-gae should get awards consideration for its contribution to the film’s immersive world-building but as we all know, the Academy doesn’t care how effective any individual element of a horror movie is, they hate it all. Exhuma delves deep into the country’s rich cultural history and its complex relationship with spirituality, myths, and political tensions to deliver an effectively creepy movie.
73. The Brain (1988)
If Videodrome was too classy for you and From Beyond wasn’t Canadian enough, The Brain is the VHS nightmare you’ve been waiting for. It’s a goopy, brain-splattered blend of anti-TV paranoia, body horror, and Saturday afternoon cheese. A movie that asks, “What if your guidance counselor was a psychotic telepathic blob monster?” and then proudly answers with gallons of fake blood. The film centers on a teenage delinquent whose kryptonite is authority figures who speak like late-night self-help gurus. He’s the only one who suspects that Dr. Blake’s “Independent Thinking” program (a kind of self-improvement TV cult) isn’t about enlightenment, but indoctrination. The good doctor, played by David Gale (Re-Animator’s talking severed head), is siphoning psychic energy from his viewers to feed a pulsating alien brain the size of a minivan.
The film has a million things going on and no money to make any of it look good. It has the brightest fluorescent lighting you’ve ever seen, the cheapest wood-paneled sets in existence, and practical effects so wet you can almost smell the latex. The titular brain evolves from a floating meatball with teeth into a full-on kaiju of cranial horror. By the finale, it’s practically eating the studio. The tone teeters between satire and schlock, and it’s never clear if it’s supposed to be funny. That’s the beauty of it. The film works despite its low budget because like the best cult horror, it believes in its own madness. A forgotten gem from the golden age of Canadian weirdness, The Brain is what happens when public-access television merges with Lovecraft and Reagan-era anxiety. It’s schlocky, slimy, and smarter than it looks. And way too weird to be as forgotten as it is.
72. Knife+Heart (2018)
Knife+Heart plays like someone found a lost giallo in a gay club at 3 a.m. and instead of taking it to the hospital because it clearly OD’D, they gave it cocaine and a blade. It’s a glitter-stained fever dream of knives, neon, and heartbreak. A slasher that bleeds equal parts blood and disco lights. Yann Gonzalez doesn’t just homage ‘70s Euro-horror—he resurrects it. It’s closest anyone has come to nailing the look and feel of that bygone era of horror in at least twenty years, including Argento himself. The film follows Anne (Vanessa Paradis), a porn producer whose life and love are crumbling. Her girlfriend has left her, her cast of misfits barely tolerates her, and her movies are starting to mirror her unraveling psyche.
Then someone starts murdering gay porn actors—someone who may have stepped right out of her films, wearing a gimp mask and wielding a bladed sex toy. It sounds absurd because it is, but Knife+Heart never plays its camp as parody. It’s sincere in its excess, romantic in its depravity. Every shot is soaked in color (acid reds, bruised purples, cold blues) and the score by M83 (Gonzalez’s brother) pulses like a haunted heartbeat. Knife+Heart isn’t for everyone. It’s messy, melodramatic, and defiantly queer in a way that refuses easy categorization. But for those who get it, it’s intoxicating. A séance for lost lovers and forgotten genres, a giallo reimagined as queer tragedy.
71. Deadstream (2022)
The V/H/S franchise has cranked out so many mediocre sequels at this point, that even its most ardent defenders agree that each movie past the second one has, at most, one great segment. To Hell and Back is not just the best segment in the film but is easily one of the best in the the entire franchise. The directors Joseph Winter and Vanessa Winter are definitely ones to watch. They knocked it out of the park with their segment and more than delivered in their feature film follow-up.
One of two movies that came out in 2022 that had strong Raimi vibes (the other is Barbarian), Deadstream is a non-stop gag machine that delivers probably more spooks per minute than any other film. This is a crowd pleaser that never got the crowd. I don’t think it would’ve done Terrifier 2 business but I think it would’ve made decent coin from word of mouth alone. Movies are making money again, people want to go to the theaters but there’s hardly anything worth going to. Horror always does well, so I don’t know why Shudder isn’t rolling some of their exclusives out. Especially the ones that are clearly built for the largest possible audience like this one is.
70. Bewitched (1981)
There’s a special breed of Hong Kong horror that doesn’t just want to scare you, it wants to curse you. It wants to crawl under your skin, squirm through your veins, and set up a black magic Airbnb in your intestines.And Bewitched (the 1981 Category III fever dream from martial arts legend Chia-Liang Liu) is one of the nastiest of the bunch. This is not the fun kind of witchcraft where Samantha wiggles her nose and dinner’s ready. This is the kind of witchcraft that involves decapitated chickens, worm vomit, and naked corpse-humping rituals under a red moon. A supernatural procedural about karmic revenge and the price of dabbling in Thai black magic, Bewitched takes its police investigation setup and turns it into a morality play soaked in maggots and mucus.
A man returns from Thailand cursed after breaking a lover’s heart, and soon, his life goes to hell piece by piece—vomiting blood, rotting alive, and hallucinating a rotting woman demanding justice from beyond the grave. Detectives try to make sense of it, but logic doesn’t stand a chance against the occult. By the time the film unveils its black magician (a witch doctor so gleefully sadistic he makes Pazuzu look like Mr. Rogers), you’re already knee-deep in writhing worms, skulls filled with blood, and one of the most stomach-churning exorcisms ever committed to film. Bewitched isn’t pretty, it isn’t kind, and it sure as hell isn’t for the squeamish. It’s a festering little morality tale mixed with the dirtiest folklore imaginable. Bewitched is a warning disguised as a horror film: when you play with dark magic, the darkness always plays back.
69. Bloody Hell (2020)
Every now and then, a horror movie comes along that feels like it crawled out of the trunk of Evil Dead II’s Oldsmobile—loud, unhinged, and soaked in adrenaline. Bloody Hell is that kind of movie. It’s part hostage horror, part black comedy, and all batshit charm. A twisted little symphony of carnage conducted by a man arguing with himself. Literally. The setup sounds simple enough: Rex Coen (Ben O’Toole), an unlucky hero who survived a botched bank robbery, tries to outrun his tabloid infamy by fleeing to Finland. Because when life hands you trauma, you book a flight to the coldest, weirdest place on Earth. Unfortunately, he barely clears customs before getting chloroformed and waking up chained in the basement of a family that makes the Firefly Clan look like Full House. From there, Bloody Hell becomes a jet-black fairy tale filtered through a cracked funhouse mirror.
Rex isn’t just fighting his captors—he’s fighting himself, literally hallucinating a split personality who becomes his survival coach, his conscience, and his sarcastic hype man. It’s Fight Club meets The Texas Chain Saw Massacre by way of Sam Raimi. Ben O’Toole gives a performance so wired and unhinged it could power a small city. He’s charming, self-loathing, heroic, and completely off his rocker—often all in the same scene. The inner-dialogue gimmick could’ve been a disaster in lesser hands, but O’Toole sells it with manic energy and just enough heart to make you root for the lunatic. The film has many shortcomings (it is nowhere near as great as its premise) but O’Toole is good enough to justify the price of admission alone. Bloody Hell is a wild-ass survival story painted in arterial spray, told by a man arguing with the voice in his head. Part grindhouse, part therapy session, all glorious madness. It’s not just Bloody Hell—it’s Bloody Brilliant.
68. Alapaap (1984)
Shot in the Philippines in 1984 and almost entirely forgotten outside a handful of festival screenings and tape traders, Alapaap (also known as Clouds) plays like a waking dream on the verge of becoming a nightmare. The story revolves around Jake (William Martinez), a young movie maker who was hospitalized for drug overdose. He recovers and together with his two friends (and one of their girlfriends), decide to go up to the mountains to make a short film. They rent a house whose landlord gives them rule: do not enter his deceased daughter’s room. If you’ve seen a horror movie before, you can probably guess what happens next and why. But the film isn’t effective because of what it is but how it makes you feel.
Plot takes a backseat to mood. It’s a horror movie that is trying to depict the drug-addled mind of a writer and what their creative process would be like while out of their mind. There are some movies that don’t feel like they were made — they feel like they just appeared. Like someone found them drifting down a river, wrapped in moss and memory, humming a tune no one’s heard before. Alapaap is one of those films. It is atmospheric and artsy while also being shockingly graphic in parts. The first half tricks you into believing this will be an A24-like experience where very little happens (got ’em) but then the second half erupts into unexpected mayhem. Alapaap is nearly impossible to track down but it’s definitely worth the hunt.
67. Killing Spree (1987)
After Truth or Dare, Fangoria and various other horror publications started referring to Tim Ritter as the “Herschel Gordon Lewis of regional cinema”. He clearly had no money to make it and invested every cent he had into buying as much fake blood as he could. The film is good for what it is but his follow-up is really what should’ve earned him that moniker. Killing Spree is about an extremely jealous and mentally unstable man who starts bumping off every person mentioned in his girlfriend’s diary. In one scene, he replaces the blades of a ceiling fan with razor-sharp metal blades, invites over an electrician and when he’s looking at the problem, the jealous boyfriend grabs him and lifts him up to get decapitated.
In another, he calls up their landscaper, knocks him out, buries him up to his head and then runs over it with a lawnmower. The kills are so over-the-top insane that you immediately think it’s all in his head. There’s absolutely no way he could be killing this many people but, without ruining the ending, he definitely is. The third act is amazing and turns this into a completely different movie. A movie I was not expecting. Killing Spree isn’t good but it’s definitely entertaining.
66. Angel of the Night (1974)
Even if you were a die-hard student of world cinema—watching movies from the best directors from around the globe—odds are, you probably still wouldn’t stumble across the work of Walter Hugo Khouri unless someone specifically pointed you in his direction. Despite having a career filled with titles that would feel right at home in the Criterion Collection, his work has gone virtually undiscovered for decades. Men and Women is his best and most well-known work and it has about 700 logs on IMDb at the time of this write up. He is in desperate need of a career retrospective at some well-known repertory cinema or a box set of his work so that people can finally discover his work.
One of the films that definitely needs more eyes on it is The Angel of the Night, (O Anjo da Noite), the only thriller he ever made. A young psychology student named Ana (Selma Egrei) is hired as a nanny for two children in a Brazilian mansion, but soon after starting the job, she begins receiving strange and threatening phone calls. They become so specific, the caller is clearly aware of her, the family or is already in the house. Playing like a haunted house film mixed with When a Stranger Calls (with some added POV shots years before Halloween), The Angel of the Night is an interesting blending of genres.
It’s very minimalist in its scares, focusing more on atmosphere (there are multiple shots of long, empty hallways) and dread. It’s the kind of film where the silence is louder than screams, with terror being punctuated by a simple ringing phone. Unfortunately, the only version that’s easy to find is a black-and-white copy — even though it was originally shot in color — that looks like a copy of a copy of a crappy VHS rip. It’s a shame that a lack of preservation has killed what could easily be a hidden gem of suspense.
65. Watcher (2022)
I don’t know if Maika Monroe has done enough to call her the horror queen of the last decade but she definitely has one of the most interesting careers of anyone from her generation. Queen of Horror is an awkward title to bestow on anyone but there’s no good category to put her in because she’s definitely not a scream queen. She’s been in a ton of thrillers in the ten years since she grabbed everyone’s attention in The Guest and not a single one of those roles required her to scream. Does she get chased around by a killer? Yes, but she never feels like the damsel.
Even when she’s at her most vulnerable, like she is in Watcher, you get the feeling that she’s going to eventually get control of the situation and fight back. In the film she plays Julia (Maika Monroe), an American woman who moves to Bucharest with her husband, Francis (Karl Glusman), for his job. Isolated and unable to speak the language, Julia becomes increasingly paranoid when she notices a mysterious man (Burn Gorman) watching her from a neighboring building. As she suspects him of being a local serial killer, her fear and obsession spiral, leaving both Julia and the audience questioning what’s real and what she’s imagining.
Watcher is a slow-burn thriller that hinges on atmosphere and a strong central performance by Monroe. The film explores themes of alienation, the male gaze, and the psychological effects of being constantly observed. LMuch like Rear Window, a lot of the action involves the main character looking out their window and imagining the person looking back is a killer and while it would be hyperbole to suggest this is as good or better than Hitchcock’s masterpiece, it does ratchet the tension as effectively and has a scarier ending in my opinion.
64. 100 Bloody Acres (2012)
If you took Tucker and Dale (from Tucker and Dale vs Evil), relocated them to Australia and actually made them killers, they’d be exactly like The Morgan Brothers—Reg and Lindsay—in 100 Bloody Acres. The dimwitted duo run a struggling organic fertilizer business, the kind that prides itself on being “100% natural.”And in their defense, it is. The secret ingredient? Human remains. Like all businesses run by cannibals, it’s a-booming until Reg picks up a group of road-tripping millennials and forgets to tell his brother they’re still breathing. Cue the awkward hostage situation, the accidental murders, and the kind of rural mayhem that could only happen in an over-the-top horror comedy.
But even at its most crazy, the film is grounded by heart—and a surprisingly sincere one at that. Reg (Damon Herriman) isn’t some cackling psychopath. He’s a sweet, dim-witted bloke torn between loyalty to his brother and a genuine crush on one of his captives. He’s Leatherface with feelings, Norman Bates with a work ethic, the kind of killer who apologizes before tying you up. His performance is that much better once you recognize him as Charles Manson from Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and Mindhunter.
But as good as he and his brother’s dynamic is, the lion’s share of the film’s success goes to The Cairnes brothers who direct with the confidence of filmmakers who love both halves of the “horror-comedy” equation. They don’t skimp on gore (when people get mulched, they really get mulched) but they also know how to milk a scene for uncomfortable laughs. 100 Bloody Acres walks the tightrope between gruesome and goofy without ever falling into parody. It’s as funny as it is fucked-up, as endearing as it is disgusting. It’s a film that knows humanity’s compostable—might as well make use of it.
63. A Dark Song (2016)
You know those movies where someone makes a deal with the devil, and you’re just waiting for them to realize they’re in over their head? A Dark Song is that, but stripped of all glamour, pageantry, and fun. It’s the dirtiest, bleakest, most honest portrayal of ritualistic magic ever put on film. The kind of movie that is nothing but repetition. Every scene is the main character doing the same thing over and over again. It is designed to test your patience but that’s the point. Sophia (Catherine Walker), a grief-stricken mother, hires Joseph Solomon (Steve Oram), a washed-up occultist, to perform an ancient Abramelin ritual — a months-long process meant to summon her guardian angel. Not for enlightenment or transcendence, but for revenge. And that’s what makes it brilliant.
Most horror films punish characters for dabbling in the dark arts; A Dark Song punishes them for lying about why they’re doing it. By the time the ritual finally pays off, Gavin delivers one of the most unexpectedly sincere moments of spiritual beauty the genre’s ever dared to show. It’s not irony, not cynicism — it’s grace. And that’s what makes A Dark Song transcend its premise. It’s not about revenge or demons. It’s about the excruciating cost of redemption. The willingness to suffer, truly suffer, to crawl through every layer of despair just to glimpse something divine. Which is why its ending is so divisive. Horror fans have been conditioned for ironic endings or twists. They want that gotcha moment. A Dark Song doesn’t offer the audience what they want, it offers the main character what she needs.
62. Mom (1991)
What a difference a title can make for a film’s success. I’m guessing one of the reasons you’ve never heard of this movie is because of its boring, nondescript title. Now if it was called Momster instead, you would’ve seen it yesterday. That’s the kind of attention-grabbing, evocative title that puts asses in seats. It tells the audience that there’s a mom in it and that mom is either a literal or figurative monster. It creates wonder. What kind of monster is it? Mom doesn’t provide any of that. It’s a boring title and this movie deserves a much better one. A kind, elderly woman provides a nomad with room and board but It turns out that he is a ghoul in disguise who’s responsible for a string of recent killings. After he bites the elderly woman, she herself turns into a monster with a taste for human flesh. After discovering this fact, her son must now prevent her from eating any more homeless while also dealing with the nomad who isn’t a fan of the interference. My Mother’s a Werewolf done dead seriously, Mom does some interesting things and has a pretty great dilemma at the center of it but it’s ultimately brought down by that awful title. Momster was right there.
61. Bat Without Wings (1980)
Shaw Brothers horror isn’t known for subtlety, it’s known for style. Their action films all look similar but once they stepped out of that genre, their films took a hard turn into crazy. Blood that looks like nail polish. Costumes that shimmer like fever dreams. Plots that feel less like stories and more like haunted fairy tales scribbled by a mad poet. And Bat Without Wings is that delirium distilled to its purest, most beautiful, most deranged form. Adapted from a Gu Long novel and filtered through Chu Yuan’s baroque imagination, this isn’t just a wuxia film—it’s a gothic love letter to the macabre. There’s swordplay, yes, but it’s dripping in rot and romance, perfume and poison. There’s more going on in this film narratively and stylistically than 80% of their chop socky films combined.
The story begins with the legend of a grotesque, wingless bat demon (who looks identical to Gene Simmons) who seduces women and drains their blood, a monster equal parts lover and leech. When he’s seemingly destroyed, the region breathes easy again. But like in all horror movies, the evil doesn’t die—it just waits. Soon, corpses start piling up, blood flows like wine, and our gallant swordsman hero is thrust into a whirlwind of deceit, resurrection, and supernatural sleaze. Bat Without Wings is Dracula with far more swordplay and more drama, if that’s even possible. It’s haunted, horny, and heartbreakingly sincere under all the glitter and gore. If Hammer Films and Shaw Brothers had a baby, it’d grow up to be Bat Without Wings—beautiful, bloody, and completely batshit.
100-81 | 60-41
What are some of your favorite overlooked horror movies? Maybe they will show up later in the list!
