Halloween

Halloween film fest: 15 classic ghost stories

culture, Features, film, ghost stories, Halloween, listicles / Shannon Garcia / October 30, 2025

From The Uninvited to Crimson Peak, these films will help you set the tone for spooky season.

It’s spooky season, and what better way to spend Halloween weekend than settling in to watch a classic Hollywood ghost story? To help you figure out what to watch, we’ve compiled a handy list of 15 classic ghost stories, presented in chronological order.

What makes a good ghost story? Everyone’s criteria (and taste) will differ, but for this list, we’ve focused on more traditional elements. There’s usually a spooky old house with a ghostly presence and/or someone who’s attuned to said presence. The living must solve the mystery of what happened to trap the ghost(s) there in hopes of setting said ghost(s) free. In that sense, the best, most satisfying ghost stories are mysteries—and sometimes also love stories. The horror is more psychological, and when it comes to gore, less is usually more.

As always, the list below isn’t meant to be exhaustive. Mostly, we’re going for a certain atmospheric vibe to set a mood. So our list omits overt comedies like Ghostbusters and (arguably) Ghost, as well as supernatural horror involving demonic possession—The Exorcist, The Conjuring, Insidious—or monsters, like The Babadook or Sinister. Feel free to suggest your own recommendations in the comments.

(Various spoilers below, but no major reveals.)

The Uninvited (1944)

B&W image of man and woman in 1940s evening wear holding a candle and looking up a flight of stairs — Credit: Paramount Pictures

Brother and sister Rick and Pamela Fitzgerald (Ray Milland and Ruth Hussey) fall in love with an abandoned seaside abode called Windward House while vacationing in England. They pool their resources and buy it for a very low price, since its owner, Commander Beech (Donald Crisp), is oddly desperate to unload it. This upsets his 20-year-old granddaughter, Stella (Gail Russell), whose mother fell to her death from the cliffs near the house when Stella was just a toddler.

Rick, a musician and composer, becomes infatuated with the beautiful young woman. And before long, strange phenomena begin manifesting: a woman sobbing, an odd chill in the artist’s studio, a flower wilting in mere seconds—plus, the Fitzgeralds’ dog and their housekeeper’s cat both refuse to go upstairs. Whatever haunts the house seems to be focused on Stella.

The Uninvited was director Lewis Allen’s first feature film—adapted from a 1941 novel by Dorothy Macardle—but it has aged well. Sure, there are some odd tonal shifts; the light-hearted sibling banter between Rick and Pamela, while enjoyable, does sometimes weaken the scare factor. But the central mystery is intriguing and the visuals are striking, snagging an Oscar nomination for cinematographer Charles Lang. Bonus points for the tune “Stella by Starlight,” written specifically for the film and later evolving into a beloved jazz standard, performed by such luminaries as Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, Charlie Parker, Chet Baker, and Miles Davis.

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947)

young woman and middle aged man standing and talking — Credit: 20th Century Fox

This is one of those old Hollywood classics that has ably withstood the test of time. Gene Tierney stars as the titular Mrs. Lucy Muir, a young widow with a little girl who decides to leave London and take up residence in the seaside village of Whitecliff. She rents Gull Cottage despite the realtor’s reluctance to even show it to her. Lucy falls in love with the house and is intrigued by the portrait of its former owner: a rough sea captain named Daniel Gregg (Rex Harrison), who locals say died by suicide in the house. Gregg’s ghost still haunts Gull Cottage, but he tries in vain to scare away the tough-minded Lucy. The two become friends and start to fall in love—but can any romance between the living and the dead truly thrive?

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir earned cinematographer Charles Lang another well-deserved Oscar nomination. Tierney and Harrison have great on-screen chemistry, and the film manages to blend wry humor and pathos into what is essentially a haunting love story of two people finding each other at the wrong time. There’s no revenge plot, no spine-tingling moments of terror, no deep, dark secret—just two people, one living and one dead, coming to terms in their respective ways with loss and regret to find peace.

The Innocents (1961)

B&W still of young boy being tucked in by a young woman. — Credit: 20th Century Fox

Henry James’ 1898 novella The Turn of the Screw has inspired many adaptations over the years. Most recently, Mike Flanagan used the plot and central characters as the main narrative framework for his Netflix miniseries The Haunting of Bly Manor. But The Innocents is widely considered to be the best.

Miss Giddens (Deborah Kerr) has been hired for her first job as a governess to two orphaned children at Bly Manor, who sometimes exhibit odd behavior. The previous governess, Miss Jessel (Clytie Jessop), had died tragically the year before, along with her lover, Peter Quint (Peter Wyngarde). Miss Giddens becomes convinced that their ghosts have possessed the children so they can still be together in death. Miss Giddens resolves to free the children, with tragic consequences.

Literary scholars and critics have been debating The Turn of the Screw ever since it was first published because James was deliberately ambiguous about whether the governess saw actual ghosts or was simply going mad and imagining them. The initial screenwriter for The Innocents, William Archibald, assumed the ghosts were real. Director Jack Clayton preferred to be true to James’ original ambiguity, and the final script ended up somewhere in between, with some pretty strong Freudian overtones where our repressed governess is concerned.

This is a film you’ll want to watch with all the lights off. It’s dark—literally, thanks to Clayton’s emphasis on shadows and light to highlight Miss Giddens’ isolation. The first 45 seconds are just a black screen with a child’s voice humming a haunting tune. But it’s a beautifully crafted example of classic psychological horror that captures something of the chilly, reserved spirit of Henry James.

The Haunting (1963)

B&W still of group of people in 1960s clothing standing in drawing room of a haunted house — Credit: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

There have also been numerous adaptations of Shirley Jackson’s 1959 Gothic horror novel The Haunting of Hill House, including Mike Flanagan’s boldly reimagined miniseries for Netflix. But many people—Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg among them—consider director Robert Wise’s The Haunting to be not only the best adaptation but one of the best horror films of all time. (Please do not confuse the Wise version with the disappointing 1999 remake, which tried to make up for its shortcomings with lavish sets and showy special effects—to no avail.)

Psychologist Dr. John Markaway (Richard Johnson) brings three people to the titular Hill House, intent on exploring its legendary paranormal phenomena. There’s a psychic named Theodora (Claire Bloom); the emotionally vulnerable Eleanor (Julie Harris), who has experienced poltergeists and just lost her domineering mother; and the skeptical Luke (Russ Tamblyn), who will inherit the house when its elderly owner dies. The house does not disappoint, and the visitors experience strange sounds and mysterious voices, doors banging shut on their own, and a sinister message scrawled on a wall: “Help Eleanor come home.”

Initial reviews were mixed, but the film has grown in stature over the decades. Jackson herself was not a fan. Wise did make considerable changes, shortening the backstory and cutting out several characters. He also downplayed the overt supernatural elements in Jackson’s novel, focusing on Eleanor’s mental instability and eventual breakdown. Wise envisioned it as the house taking over her mind. Modern sensibilities accustomed to much more intense horror might not find The Haunting especially scary, but it is beautifully rendered with skillful use of clever special effects. For instance, to make the house seem alive, Wise filmed the exterior shots in infrared to give it an otherworldly vibe, framing the shots so that the windows resemble the house’s eyes.

The Shining (1980)

twin girls in matching light blue dresses and white knee socks standing in a hallway with yellow flowered wallpaper — Credit: Warner Bros.

Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of the 1977 bestselling novel by Stephen King probably needs no introduction. But for those not familiar with the story, Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) takes a position as the winter caretaker of the remote Overlook Hotel in the Rocky Mountains, bringing his wife, Wendy (Shelley Duvall), and young son, Danny (Danny Lloyd). Danny has a psychic gift called “the shining,” which allows him to communicate telepathically with the hotel cook, Dick Halloran (Scatman Crothers). The previous caretaker went mad and murdered his family. Over the course of the film, Jack slowly begins to succumb to the same madness, putting his own wife and child in danger.

Initial reviews weren’t particularly favorable—King himself is not a fan of the film—but it’s now considered a horror classic and a subject of much academic study among film scholars. This is another film that has seen a lot of debate about whether the ghosts are real, with some arguing that Jack and Danny might just be hallucinating the Overlook’s malevolent ghosts into existence. Or maybe it’s the hotel manifesting ghosts to drive Jack insane. (I choose to interpret the ghosts in The Shining as real while appreciating the deliberate ambiguity.) There are so many memorable moments: the eerie twin girls (“Come and play with us”), the bathtub lady in Room 237, Lloyd the creepy bartender, the elaborate hedge maze, “REDRUM,” Jack hacking through a door and exclaiming, “Heeere’s Johnny!” and that avalanche of blood pouring down a hotel hallway. It’s a must-watch.

Ghost Story (1981)

young woman with dark haired bob wearing a 1920s white dress and hat, standing in a road illuminated by headlights on a snowy night — Credit: Universal Pictures

Adapted from the 1979 novel by Peter Straub, Ghost Story centers on a quartet of elderly men in a New England town called Milburn. They are lifelong friends who call themselves the Chowder Society and gather every week to tell spooky stories. Edward Wanderly (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) is the town’s mayor; Ricky Hawthorne (Fred Astaire) is a businessman; Sears James (John Houseman) is a lawyer; and John Jaffrey (Melvyn Douglas) is a physician. The trouble starts when Edward’s son, David (Craig Wasson), falls to his death from a New York City high-rise after the young woman he’s engaged to suddenly turns into a putrefying living corpse in their shared bed.

The apparent suicide brings Edward’s other son, Dan (also Wasson), back to Milburn. Dan doesn’t believe his brother killed himself and tells the Chowder Society his own ghost story: He fell in love with a young woman named Alma (Alice Krige) before realizing something was wrong with her. When he broke things off, Alma got engaged to David. And it just so happens that Alma bears a striking resemblance to a young woman named Eva Galli (also Krige) captured in an old photograph with all the members of the Chowder Society back in their youth. Yep, the old men share a dark secret, and the chickens are finally coming home to roost.

I won’t claim that Ghost Story is the best film of all time. It has its flaws, most notably the inclusion of two escaped psychiatric hospital patients purportedly in the service of Eva’s vengeful ghost. The tone is occasionally a bit over-the-top, but the film honors all the classic tropes, and there are many lovely individual scenes. The main cast is terrific; it was the final film for both Astaire and Fairbanks. And that spooky New England winter setting is a special effect all its own. The sight of Eva’s apparition materializing through the swirling snow to stand in the middle of the road in front of Sears’ car is one that has stuck with me for decades.

Poltergeist (1982)

back view of little girl silhouetted against the TV glow; screen is all static and girl is holding both hands to the screen — Credit: MGM/UA Entertainment

“They’re heeere!” That might be one of the best-known movie lines from the 1980s, announcing the arrival of the titular poltergeists. In this Tobe Hooper tale of terror, Steven and Diane Freeling (Craig T. Nelson and JoBeth Williams) have just moved with their three children into a suburban dream house in the newly constructed community of Cuesta Verde, California. Their youngest, Carol Anne (Heather O’Rourke), starts hearing voices in the TV static late at night, and things soon escalate as multiple ghosts play pranks on the family. When Carol Anne mysteriously disappears, Steven and Diane realize at least one of the ghosts is far from friendly and call on local parapsychologists for help.

Steven Spielberg initiated the project, but his obligations to filming E.T. prevented him from directing, although he visited the set frequently. (There’s been considerable debate over whether Hooper or Spielberg really directed the film, but the consensus over time credits Hooper.) Despite the super-scary shenanigans, it definitely has elements of that lighter Spielberg touch, and it all adds up to a vastly entertaining supernatural thriller. Special shoutout to Zelda Rubinstein’s eccentric psychic medium with the baby voice, Tangina, who lends an element of whimsy to the proceedings.

Lady in White (1988)

young boy curled up near an arched window at night with a har and wearing red gloves — Credit: New Century Vista Film

As a child actor, Lukas Haas won audience hearts when he played an Amish boy who sees a murder in the 1985 film Witness. Less well-known is his performance in Lady in White, playing 9-year-old Frankie Scarlatti. On Halloween in 1962, school bullies lock Frankie in the classroom coatroom, where he is trapped for the night. That’s when he sees the apparition of a young girl (Joelle Jacobi) being brutally murdered by an invisible assailant. Then an actual man enters, trying to recover something from a floor grate. When he realizes someone is there, he strangles Frankie unconscious; Frankie’s father, Angelo (Alex Rocco), finds and rescues him in the nick of time.

Frankie has a vision of that same girl while unconscious, asking him to help her find her mother. That little girl, it turns out, was one of 11 child victims targeted by a local serial killer. Frankie and his older brother, Geno (Jason Presson), decide to investigate. Their efforts lead to some shocking revelations about tragedies past and present as the increasingly desperate killer sets his sights on Frankie.

Director Frank LaLoggia based the story on the “lady in white” legend about a ghostly figure searching for her daughter in LaLoggia’s hometown of Rochester, New York. Granted, the special effects are cheesy and dated—the director was working with a lean $4.7 million budget—and LaLoggia can’t seem to end the film, adding twist after twist well after the audience is ready for a denouement. But overall, it’s a charming film, with plenty of warmth and heart to offset the dark premise, primarily because the Scarlattis are the quintessential Italian American New England family. Lady in White inexplicably bombed at the box office, despite positive critical reviews, but it’s a hidden 1980s gem.

Dead Again (1991)

young woman, frightened, pointing gun at the camera — Credit: Paramount Pictures

In 1948, a composer named Roman Strauss is convicted of brutally stabbing his pianist wife, Margaret, to death with a pair of scissors and is executed. Over 40 years later, a woman (Emma Thompson) shows up with amnesia and is unable to speak at a Catholic orphanage that just happens to be the old Strauss mansion. The woman regularly barricades her door at night and inevitably wakes up screaming.

The nuns ask private investigator Mike Church (Kenneth Branagh) to find out her identity. Antiques dealer and hypnotist Franklyn Madson (Derek Jacobi) offers his assistance to help “Grace” recover her memory. Madson regresses her to a past life—that of Margaret and Roman Strauss’s doomed marriage. The truth about what really happened in 1948 unfolds in a series of black-and-white flashbacks—and they just might be the key to Grace’s cure.

As director, Branagh drew influences from various Hitchcock films, Rebecca, and Citizen Kane, as well as the stories of Edgar Allen Poe. The film is tightly written and well-plotted, and it ably balances suspense and sentiment. Plus, there are great performances from the entire cast, especially Robin Williams as a disgraced psychiatrist now working in a grocery store.

Some might question whether Dead Again counts as a bona fide ghost story instead of a romantic thriller with supernatural elements, i.e., hypnotherapy and past-life regression. It’s still two dead lovers, Roman and Margaret, reaching through the past to their reincarnated selves in the present to solve a mystery, exact justice, and get their happily ever after. That makes it a ghost story to me.

Stir of Echoes (1999)

shirtless man in jeans digging a hole in his backyard — Credit: Artisan Entertainment

Stir of Echoes is one of my favorite Kevin Bacon films, second only to Tremors, although it hasn’t achieved the same level of cult classic success. Bacon plays Tom Witzky, a phone lineman in a working-class Chicago neighborhood. He loves his wife Maggie (Kathryn Erbe) and son Jake (Zachary David Cope), but he struggles with the fact that his life just isn’t what he’d imagined. One night, he agrees to be hypnotized by his sister-in-law (Illeana Douglas) after mocking her belief in the paranormal. This unlocks latent psychic abilities, which he shares with his far more gifted son, and he begins having disturbing visions of a young girl who disappeared from the neighborhood the year before. Naturally, Tom becomes obsessed with solving the mystery behind his intensifying visions.

Based on a novel by Richard Matheson, director David Koep drew on films like Repulsion, Rosemary’s Baby, and The Dead Zone for tonal inspiration, but Stir of Echoes still falls firmly into the ghost story genre. It’s just grounded in an ordinary real-world setting that makes the spooky suspense all the more effective, further aided by Bacon inhabiting the role of Tom so effortlessly that he barely seems to be acting. Alas, the film suffered at the box office and from unfavorable (and unfair) contemporary comparisons to The Sixth Sense (see below), released that same year. But it’s well worth a watch (and a rewatch).

The Sixth Sense (1999)

little boy looking scared being comforted by a man kneeling in front of him — Credit: Buena Vista Pictures

This is the film that launched director M. Night Shyamalan’s career, snagging him two Oscar nominations in the process. Child psychologist Malcolm Crowe (Bruce Willis) is shot by a troubled former patient, Vincent (Donnie Wahlberg), one night at home. A year later, he has a new case with striking similarities—9-year-old Cole Sears (Haley Joel Osment)—and devotes himself to helping the boy, as a way to atone for his failure to help Vincent. Malcolm thinks Cole’s problems might be even more severe, especially when Cole confesses (in a famous scene), “I see dead people.” And those dead people can be really scary, especially to a 9-year-old boy.

The Sixth Sense was a massive hit, grossing over $672 million globally, fueled in part by a jolting final plot twist that hardly anyone saw coming. But it’s Osment’s astonishing performance as Cole that anchored it all and marked the young actor as a rising talent. (It’s also one of Willis’ best, most nuanced performances.) Shyamalan has made many films since, and several are really good, but none have ever come close to this one.

What Lies Beneath (2000)

Beautiful blond woman in a sweater standing in the fog hugging herself to keep warm — Credit: DreamWorks Pictures

A luminous Michelle Pfeiffer stars as Claire Spencer, a gifted cellist who gave up her career for marriage to scientist Norman Spencer (Harrison Ford) and motherhood. But when their daughter goes off to college, Claire finds herself struggling to cope, particularly since there are tensions in her marriage. Plus, she’s still recovering psychologically from a car accident the year before, of which she has no memory. When mysterious psychic disturbances begin to manifest, Claire is convinced the ghost of a young woman is haunting her; everyone else thinks she’s just dealing with delayed grief and trauma. Claire nonetheless slowly begins to uncover the truth about the mysterious presence and her accident—and that truth just might end up costing her life.

What Lies Beneath started out as a treatment for Steven Spielberg, who envisioned something along the lines of a ghost story equivalent to Close Encounters of the Third Kind—primarily about discovery and first contact, while also exploring the psychological state of a new empty nester. But Spielberg ultimately passed on the project and handed it over to director Robert Zemeckis, who turned it into a psychological thriller/ghost story with a Hitchcockian vibe. Those earlier elements remain, however, and the leisurely pacing helps develop Claire as a character and gives Pfeiffer a chance to show off her acting chops, not just her exquisite beauty. It’s broody and satisfying and a perennial seasonal favorite for a rewatch.

The Others (2001)

young girl, back to camera, dressed n white with a veil playing with a marionette — Credit: Dimension Films

This film might be director Alejandro Amenábar’s masterpiece, merging the sensibilities of arthouse cinema with mainstream movie-making. A young mother named Grace (Nicole Kidman) and her two children are living in a remote house on the Channel Island of Jersey, recently liberated from German occupation at the end of World War II. The house is kept in near darkness at all times because the children have a severe sensitivity to light. But there are disturbances in the house that Grace fears may be evidence of a haunting, and the three creepy new servants she hired seem to have ulterior motives for being there. And just who is buried in the small, overgrown cemetery on the grounds?

Much of the film’s success is due to Kidman’s incredibly disciplined, intense performance as the icily reserved, tightly wound Grace, whose gradual unraveling drives the plot. It’s a simple plot by design. All the complexity lies in the building tension and sense of oppressiveness, augmented by Amenábar’s claustrophobic sets and minimalist lighting of sepia-toned scenes. It all leads up to a chilling climax with an appropriately satisfying twist.

Crimson Peak (2015)

woman with long blonde hair in Gothic period dress holing a candelabra in a dark corridor — Credit: Universal Pictures

Guillermo del Toro has always had an extraordinary knack for lush visuals teeming with Gothic elements. The director went all in on the Gothic horror for this ghostly tale of a Victorian-era American heiress (Mia Wasikowska) who weds a handsome but impoverished English nobleman, Sir Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston). Edith finds herself living in his crumbling family mansion, which is definitely haunted. And Edith should know. She’s had ghostly visits from her dead mother since childhood, warning her to “beware of Crimson Peak,” so she’s sensitive to haunted vibes.

Edith really should have listened to her mother. Not only is Thomas strangely reluctant to consummate their marriage, but his sister, Lucille—played to perfection by Jessica Chastain—is openly hostile and might just be slipping a suspicious substance into Edith’s tea. Will Edith uncover the dark secret of Crimson Peak and escape a potentially terrible fate? Del Toro set out to put a modern twist on the classic haunted house genre, and he succeeded, drawing on several other films on this list for inspiration (The Haunting, The Innocents, and The Shining, specifically). But at its heart, Crimson Peak is pure del Toro: sinister, atmospheric, soaked in rich colors (and sometimes blood), with a spectacular payoff at the end.

A Ghost Story (2017)

young woman seated at a desk with a small figure draped in a sheet wth eye holes cut out standing beside her — Credit: A24

This is probably the most unconventional approach to the genre on the list. Casey Affleck and Rooney Mara play a husband and wife known only as C and M, respectively, who have been at odds because M wants to move and C does not. Their house isn’t anything special—a small ranch-style affair in a semi-rural area—but it might be haunted.

One night, there is a mysterious bang, and the couple can’t locate the source when they search the house. Then C is killed in a car accident, his body covered with a sheet at the hospital morgue. C rises as a ghost, still wearing the sheet (now with two eyeholes) and makes his way back to the house, where he remains for a very long time, even long after M has moved out. (There’s also another ghost next door in a flowered sheet, waiting for someone it can no longer remember.)

There is almost no dialogue, Affleck spends most of the movie covered in a sheet, there is very little in the way of a musical soundtrack, and the entire film is shot in a 1.33:1 aspect ratio. Director David Lowery has said he made that choice because the film is “about someone trapped in a box for eternity, and I felt the claustrophobia of that situation could be amplified by the boxiness of the aspect ratio.” Somehow it all works. A Ghost Story isn’t about being scary; it’s a moody, poignant exploration of love lost—and it takes the audience to some conceptual spaces few films dare to tread.

Jennifer is a senior writer at Ars Technica with a particular focus on where science meets culture, covering everything from physics and related interdisciplinary topics to her favorite films and TV series. Jennifer lives in Baltimore with her spouse, physicist Sean M. Carroll, and their two cats, Ariel and Caliban.

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Celebrate Halloween with 20 of our favorite horror comedies

culture, Entertainment, films, Halloween, horror comedies, horror films / Shannon Garcia / October 31, 2024

Vampires and werewolves and zombies, oh my! Plus a slasher smorgasbord of serial killers…

Halloween is upon us, which means costumes, candy, and settling in for a nice long night of scary movies. For those who crave a bit of humor with their blood-soaked scares, I’ve compiled a list of some of my favorite horror comedies for your viewing pleasure.

What constitutes a horror comedy? Is it merging classic creature features with goofy slapstick humor? Is it primarily super scary with a few notes of humor? Is the humor sharply satirical or primarily delivered by wisecracking characters? Is it parody? Or does good horror comedy go full meta, poking fun at the tropes while sneaking in incisive cultural commentary?

Horror comedy is all of those things and more, which is why picking films to include on this list proved so tricky. For instance, The Mummy (1999) features a classic monster, but it fits just as well in the action/comedy category, while Ghostbusters (1984) is pretty much straight-up comedy. Yet I could have included both on this list without too many complaints. In the end, I cut the list down to 20, opting for a sampler that features blockbusters, vintage films, cult classics, and contemporary offerings, each with its own unique mix of horror and comedic elements. Feel free to add your own favorites in the comments.

(Some spoilers below.)

Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948)

Frankenstein monster towering over two small men in uniforms holding their fingers to their lips — Credit: Universal Pictures

Famed comedic duo Bud Abbott and Lou Costello were on the verge of splitting up when they signed on to make Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, which made for a rather fraught shoot. Director Charles Barton once described them as “the real monsters” on set. But they still created a horror comedy for the ages that is included in the Library of Congress National Film Registry.

Bela Lugosi’s Count Dracula teams up with a mad scientist (Lenore Aubert) to reactivate Frankenstein’s monster (Glenn Strange). And who should have the ideal brain for those purposes? A baggage clerk named Wilbur Grey (Costello), whose BFF Chick Young (Abbott) joins him to foil the plot. Lon Chaney Jr.’s Wolf Man also makes an appearance, and Vincent Price briefly voices the Invisible Man, setting up a slew of sequels that never quite matched the giddy heights of the first.

Theater of Blood (1973)

Elderly actor kin formal tails standing on podium for an award show. — Credit: United Artists

Vincent Price built his storied career on making horror movies, House of Wax and several Edgar Allan Poe adaptations among them. But my all-time favorite is Theater of Blood, in which Price plays an aging Shakespearean actor named Edward Lionheart. When his final season is ridiculed by the snobby Theater Critics Guild, Lionheart throws himself into the Thames. He is rescued by vagrants and, having gone mad, proceeds to exact revenge on the members of the Guild by knocking them off, each in a manner inspired by a Shakespeare play.

One is stabbed to death by a mob (Julius Caesar); another is decapitated while sleeping (Cymbeline); yet another is drowned in a “butt of Malmsey” wine, just like the Duke of Clarence in Richard III. A flamboyant gourmand is forced to eat pies made from his beloved toy poodles (Titus Andronicus), while Lionheart lures a female critic to a hair salon, posing as a groovy hairdresser who can’t wait to get his hands on her “dishy, dishy hair”—but electrocutes her in the hair dryer instead, a la Joan of Arc in Henry IV, Part I. And let’s just say that Lionheart takes the mention of a pound of flesh in The Merchant of Venice quite literally. Theater of Blood revels in its campiness, and Price’s over-the-top scene-chewing melodrama makes the movie. It’s grimly funny with a hint of pathos and never lapses into outright farce.

Young Frankenstein (1974)

Frankenstein monster and wild-haired mad scientist both in top hats and tails dancing on a stage — Credit: 20th Century Fox

Young Frankenstein marks its 50th anniversary this year: five decades of sheer joy rendered by a constant stream of bad puns, double entendres, slapstick visual gags, and a goofy musical number—all to create an affectionate, timeless tribute to the classic Frankenstein movies of the 1930s. It’s even shot in black and white, with old-school opening credits and filmmaking techniques, as well as featuring the original lab equipment designed for 1931’s Frankenstein.

Gene Wilder stars as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, a lecturer at a US medical school who is ashamed of his infamous grandfather, Victor, to the point where he deliberately pronounces his last name differently (“It’s FRONK-en-steen”). But then he inherits the family’s Transylvania estate and takes leave of his fiancée, Elizabeth (Madeline Kahn), to pay a visit. There he meets the hunchback Igor (Marty Feldman); housekeeper Frau Blücher (Chloris Leachman); and comely lab assistant Inga (the late, great Teri Garr). After discovering his grandfather’s notebooks, Frederick decides to continue his work, creating The Monster (Peter Boyle), whose impressive physical dimensions include an “enormous Schwanzstucker.” With all that comedic talent, small wonder the Oscar-nominated Young Frankenstein also has a place in the Library of Congress National Film Registry.

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

Man halfway transformed into a werewolf — Credit: Universal Pictures

Writer/director John Landis was ahead of his time when he first pitched the script for An American Werewolf in London in 1969. It was deemed not scary enough to be horror and not funny enough to be a comedy, so Landis shelved the idea for over 10 years. Hollywood culture finally caught up and Landis got to make his film, having since risen to fame with such hits as Animal House and The Blues Brothers.

David Naughton stars as David Kessler, a US graduate student who treks across the Yorkshire moors with his best friend Jack (Griffin Dunne), only to be attacked by a mysterious creature. Jack is killed and David is bitten, waking up in a London hospital. As the full moon approaches, David starts experiencing some changes, finally transforming into a werewolf and embarking on a couple of killing sprees. He falls in love with his nurse, Alex (Jenny Agutter), but is also haunted by repeated visions of the mauled (and gradually decomposing) Jack, warning him that until he dies, Jack and all his other victims are doomed to an undead existence in limbo. At one point, Jack appears to David in an adult movie theater and introduces him to the cheery young couple he killed the night before, who helpfully offer suicide tips.

The humor is more clever than funny, and there are some genuine scares. There’s also a good amount of gore, although not as much as Landis originally planned; he had to cut certain details to get an R rating, like Jack trying to eat a piece of toast and having it fall out of his decaying neck. It’s the famous long transformation scene that made the most waves, using what were then groundbreaking makeup and visual effects. In fact, it won the Oscar for Best Makeup that year.

Little Shop of Horrors (1986)

giant green carnivorous plant with mouth lined with sharp teeth has a young blonde woman in its grasp — Credit: Warner Bros.

This one is an adaptation of a hit off-Broadway musical that was, in turn, an adaptation of the 1960 horror comedy directed by Roger Corman. Little Shop of Horrors stars Rick Moranis as Seymour Krelborn, a floral shop employee in love with his co-worker, Audrey (Ellen Greene), who is also being pursued by a sadistic dentist addicted to nitrous oxide (Steve Martin). The discovery of an exotic sentient plant that Seymour names Audrey II helps boost business, but Seymour discovers it needs human flesh and blood to survive… and the bigger the insatiable Audrey II grows, the more blood she needs (“Feed me, Seymour!”).

Director Frank Oz used animatronic puppetry to create Audrey II, eschewing blue screens or other visual effects. He wasn’t particularly happy with his final Oscar-nominated film, mostly because the studio forced him to scrap the musical’s original ending, in which Seymour and Audrey both die and Audrey II and her alien plant offspring ravage the Earth. Critics and audiences didn’t mind the more upbeat ending, however, no doubt won over by the catchy tunes and deft mix of campy humor and horror.

Evil Dead II (1987)

Dark haired man, covered in blood, holding a chainsaw while skeleton hands reach for him — This franchise made Bruce Campbell a horror-comedy icon. Credit: Renaissance Pictures

Sam Raimi’s blood-soaked trilogy made Bruce Campbell a horror icon, and Evil Dead II is arguably the best of the lot (although I also have a soft spot for Army of Darkness). Whether it’s a remake of the original Evil Dead or a sequel is a matter of debate; honestly, it’s a bit of both. Campbell stars as Ash Williams, a college student who takes his girlfriend on a romantic getaway to an abandoned cabin in the woods. They discover that the former owner, an archaeologist, left behind a “book of the dead” (Necronomicon Ex-Mortis) and commit the fatal error of reading some of the passages out loud.

This unleashes a Kandarian Demon that kills and possesses his girlfriend, turning her into a “Deadite.” Ash is forced to decapitate her and ends up battling multiple Deadite victims of the demon, cutting off his own arm when his right hand becomes possessed. The moment when a blooded Ash straps a modified chainsaw to the stump and mows down a bunch of deadites is a scene for the ages. It’s got a rough, low-budget energy, smirking humor, and enough blood and gore to fuel three average horror movies—a bona fide “comedy of terrors.”

Tremors (1990)

Still from Tremors — Earl and Val realize the threat is underground. Credit: Universal Pictures

Tremors is an unabashed love letter to the B-movie creature features of the 1950s that remains as fresh today as it was over three decades ago. The film is sheer perfection and ranks among my personal favorite films of all time. The story takes place in the tiny fictional desert town of Perfection, Nevada—population 15, at least at the start of the film. But something begins killing the residents (and the livestock). Director Ron Underwood set the narrative up like a mystery, introducing us to the main characters and setting as they realize the threat that is coming for them: subterranean monsters dubbed “graboids.”

Tremors has a terrific cast of characters, played by gifted actors. But it’s the ingenious design of the graboids that really makes the film for me—how the characters figure out the monsters’ characteristics. Above all, the graboids are smart and capable of learning about their human prey and adapting accordingly. When humans hide in a car, they dig around the surrounding soil so the whole vehicle sinks underground. They do the same thing to loosen building foundations when the residents take refuge on their roofs. They dig a trap just as the humans are almost safely to the mountains, and so forth. The humans have to keep upping their game to survive, and the ingenious ways they outwit the monsters is a huge part of the film’s delight.

Scream (1996)

blonde woman with pageboy haircut holding phone to her ear while screaming in terror — Credit: Dimension Films

No horror comedy list would be complete without including the oh-so-meta Scream, which introduced the costumed serial killer Ghostface to the world. Scream deftly deconstructs the slasher genre and its surprisingly moralistic “rules,” helpfully defined by horror fan Randy (Jamie Kennedy): no drinking, doing drugs, or having sex—the Final Girl, Sidney (Neve Campbell), is naturally a virgin—and also never, ever leave your friend group and tell them you’ll “be right back.” (You won’t.) Naturally, all of these rules are broken by one character or another, with the expected bloody results.

The humor is self-referential without being parody; the performances are strong; and the jump scares and horror tributes are plentiful (Linda Blair of The Exorcist fame makes a cameo). Those elements helped the film tap into the cultural zeitgeist of the mid-1990s, blasting past low box office projections to gross $173 million worldwide. Scream has spawned multiple sequels, an anthology film series, and the Scary Movie horror parody franchise, revitalizing what was at the time a stagnating market for horror. It’s now widely viewed as one of the most influential horror movies of all time.

Shaun of the Dead (2004)

group of people running away from zombies — Credit: Universal Pictures

Shaun of the Dead is the first film in Simon Pegg’s Three Flavors Cornetto trilogy, in which Pegg’s Shaun, a mild-mannered slacker London salesman, finds himself caught up in a zombie apocalypse and must rise to the occasion to save his friends and family. That includes his best friend Ed (Nick Frost), girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield), mom Barbara (Penelope Wilton), and stepdad Philip (Bill Nighy), as well as Liz’s roommates, David (Dylan Moran) and Diane (Lucy Davis).

Shaun is an unlikely hero; Liz has broken up with him because he’s unambitious and spends all his free time playing video games with Ed or hanging out at the Winchester pub. The film is about this everyman finding his inner hero. He and Ed hurl vinyl records at a pair of zombies—pausing to quibble over which ones they should preserve—and take out even more brain-eaters with cricket bats. At one point the crew pretends to be zombies to make their way to the Winchester for a final showdown. But their little group is wildly outnumbered, and while Shaun of the Dead is very funny with its distinctively British humor, it’s also sometimes downright heartbreaking. That’s a fine line to navigate, and Pegg does so exceptionally well.

Zombieland (2009)

young nerdy man and tough older man in cowboy hat, both holding rifles at the ready in case of zombies — Credit: Sony Pictures

Zombieland is America’s answer to Shaun of the Dead: a fresh, fun take on the “zom-com” format. A virulent form of human-adapted mad cow disease sweeps across the United States, transforming most of the nation’s populace into ravenous zombies. The film follows a ragtag group of unlikely survivors—Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson), and orphaned sisters Wichita (Emma Stone) and Little Rock (Abigail Breslin)—on a road trip in hopes of finding some place yet untouched by the disease, ending with a pitched battle against zombie hordes in an abandoned amusement park.

It’s a fun mix of horror and dark screwball comedy, especially the “Zombie Kills of the Week” and Columbus’ hilarious survival rules—cardio, limber up, beware of bathrooms, and buckle up, for instance, not to mention the “double tap”—often illustrated by various doomed souls who failed to heed those rules. Bill Murray’s star turn playing himself just might rank as one of the best surprise cameos of all time. The 2019 sequel, Zombieland: Double Tap, didn’t quite hit the same high marks, but the pair still make for a terrific double feature.

Trollhunter (2010)

giant troll standing on Norwegian plain at dusk — Credit: SF Norge A/S

This quirky Norwegian offering is shot in the style of a found footage mockumentary. A group of college students set off into the wilds of the fjord land to make a documentary about a suspected bear poacher named Hans, played by Norwegian comedian Otto Jesperson. They discover that Hans and another hunter named Finn (Hans Morten Hansen) are actually hunting down trolls and decide to document those endeavors instead. They soon realize they are very much out of their depth.

Writer/director André Øvredal infuses Trollhunter with myriad references to Norwegian culture, especially its folklore and fairy tales surrounding trolls. There are woodland trolls and mountain trolls, some with tails, some with multiple heads. They turn to stone when exposed to sunlight—which is why one of the troll hunters carries around a powerful UV lamp—and mostly eat rocks but can develop a taste for human flesh, and they can smell the blood of a Christian. The film is peppered with dry wit rather than laugh-out-loud moments, and non-Norwegians might miss some of the cultural in-jokes. But Øvredal masterfully builds suspense and a creeping sense of dread, plus there’s all that gorgeous footage of the Norwegian landscape to delight viewers around the world.

The Cabin in the Woods (2012)

Group of attractive teenagers standing in the clearing in the woods — Credit: Lionsgate

When will college students learn to avoid weekend getaways to remote wilderness locations? The Cabin in the Woods is in a similar vein to Scream, but Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard definitely put their unique stamp on this satirical ode to the slasher genre. In this case, the five students are lured to the titular cabin by technicians working for a mysterious corporation located in an underground facility. It’s not initially clear what the operation is about, but failure is not an option. The technicians manipulate the students via careful staging and mind-altering drugs, among other tricks, until they accidentally summon a zombified family of sadists who start killing off the students.

That is all according to plan. And just when you think that’s all the movie has to offer, it takes a sudden, unexpected, and very bold lurch into outright Lovecraftian horror—the less said about that, the better, particularly the jaw-dropping finale featuring a cameo by Sigourney Weaver as The Director. The Cabin in the Woods goes places horror comedies have rarely gone before, and it does so with considerable wit and flair.

What We Do in the Shadows (2014)

three vampires in very dated outfits standing in a hallway — Credit: Madman Entertainment

Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement wrote, directed, and starred in the delightfully offbeat What We Do in the Shadows, playing vampire roommates Vladislav (Clement) and Viago (Waititi) in Wellington, New Zealand. Given their nocturnal nature, they and their vampire friends haven’t adapted to modern life particularly well, and their mishaps as they struggle to navigate mundane trivialities in the 21st century are the source of much of the film’s deadpan humor.

The rather circuitous plot culminates with our underdogs attending the annual Unholy Masquerade and battling several rival vampires, as well as a pack of werewolves. What We Do in the Shadows garnered a solid cult following after premiering at the Sundance Film Festival, ultimately earning $6.9 million—a decent showing given its modest $1.6 million budget. And it spawned a successful TV spinoff, now in its final season.

Happy Death Day (2017)

Blonde woman looking worried, unaware that a killer wearing a babyface mask is right behind her — Credit: Universal Pictures

Happy Death Day is basically a combination of Scream and Groundhog Day, in which sorority sister Theresa “Tree” Gelbman (Jessica Rothe) is murdered on her birthday by a killer in a Babyface mask and finds herself reliving that day over and over. (Babyface is the fictional Bayfield University’s mascot, and they should really rethink that choice.) She takes advantage of the time loop to solve her own murder and maybe get some closure over some personal trauma in her past. Bonus: She also snags a nice guy boyfriend, Carter (Israel Broussard). There’s even an overt nod to Groundhog Day at one point, with Tree confessing that she’s never seen the film. Pair it with the entertaining sequel, Happy Death Day 2 U, which adds a multiverse twist and pays particular homage to Back to the Future II.

Get Out (2017)

black man closeup with shocked look on face, tears streaming down — Credit: Universal Pictures

At its core, Jordan Peele’s Get Out is a subtle exploration of racial tensions that quietly builds to reveal its horrifying premise and inevitable bloody conclusion. But it’s also packed with sly, smartly satirical humor, hence its inclusion on this list. Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) is a Black photographer who is meeting his girlfriend Rose’s (Alison Williams) stereotypically liberal white family for the first time at their upstate home. At first things are merely awkward, as they clumsily try to bond with Chris by using the word “thang” and reassuring him that they would have totally voted for Obama a third time. Concurrently with Chris’ visit, the family is hosting a party in honor of her late grandfather, which involves hordes of clueless old white people. We learn that it is not a coincidence as the film gradually veers from satire into sinister psychological horror.

Kaluuya is terrific at playing Chris’ transition from bemusement to terror, and Williams is pitch-perfect as a suburban white girl who just doesn’t get why he’s so on edge. As Chris is drawn more deeply into the bizarro secret at the heart of Rose’s family, we get a series of reveals that are pleasingly unexpected. And Lil Rel Howery steals every scene as Chris’ best friend, a TSA agent who is suspicious about the weekend getaway and ends up saving the day—because the TSA “gets st done.”

One kind of terrible conspiracy gives way to another, and the final truth is far more complicated than what you’d expect from a typical horror movie. The narrative pacing is perfection: You’ll see the twists coming right when Peele wants you to see them. As Annalee Newitz wrote in her 2017 review, “Writing good satire is hard, but writing good horror-satire requires exquisite timing. It’s been a long time since a movie took me from laughing to abject horror in five minutes flat. Peele and his cast sell us on both the silliness and creepiness, and they make it so intense that the final moments of white-hot action (heh) are genuinely cathartic.”

Ready or Not (2019)

Young blonde woman in a bloodied wedding dress holding a rifle with ammo sash across her chest. — Credit: Fox Searchlight Pictures

An unsuspecting bride (Samara Weaving) finds herself fighting for her life on her wedding night in this wickedly funny, blood-soaked thriller. Weaving plays Grace, who marries Alex Le Domas (Mark O’Brien), a member of a wealthy gaming dynasty, in a picture-perfect wedding on the family estate. Then she learns that at midnight, she must play a game to officially join the family by drawing a card from a mysterious box to choose the game. She gets Hide and Seek. Grace is the prey, and she must evade detection until dawn to avoid being killed in a bizarre ritual sacrifice.

Ready or Not gets the tone just right throughout, perfectly balanced between humor and horror. Relative newcomer Weaving, in particular, delivers a standout performance as Grace—a role that requires her to be, in turn, sweetly submissive, shocked, and terrified, and a tough-as-nails badass in a fight for her life. Moments like brother-in-law Fitch Bradley (Kristian Bruun) watching YouTube videos on “Getting To Know Your Crossbow” provide comic relief and make those genuinely shocking bloody twists all the more effective. The pacing is crisp, the narrative is tight, it’s genuinely suspenseful, and the entire cast is clearly having a blast in their respective roles.

Freaky (2020)

Fierce looking blonde woman in red leather jacket wielding a sharp hook as a weapon — Credit: Universal Pictures

In Freaky, an homage to Friday the 13th (1980) and slasher films like Scream, Vince Vaughn stars as an aging serial killer who switches bodies with a hapless teenage girl named Millie (Kathryn Newton). The success of the body-swapping concept in any given film always rests on the shoulders of its leads, who must nimbly switch between characters. Vaughn and Newton do not disappoint.

Vaughn especially shines at channeling his inner teenage girl, despite his hulking 6-foot, 5-inch frame—and not just in the obvious slapstick moments, like when he performs the Blissfield High mascot dance to convince Millie’s best friends that it’s really him. He also brings out Millie’s sweet vulnerability and aptly conveys her delight at being able to pee standing up. On the flip side, The Butcher in Millie’s body shows a surprisingly keen fashion sense and relishes being able to slide under everybody’s radar as an “innocent” high school student. The cast is clearly having a blast, and Freaky ultimately succeeds in mixing horror, humor, and pathos in just the right measures.

Vampires vs. The Bronx (2020)

Three young scared black kids holding out wooden crosses — Credit: Netflix

The title of this charming, smart horror-comedy pretty much says it all. Tween-age Miguel Martinez, aka “Lil Mayor” (Jaden Michael), is trying to organize a neighborhood block party in the Bronx to save the local bodega from rising rents in the wake of gentrification. One company in particular, Murnau Properties, is buying up local businesses at an alarming rate, and the former owners keep mysteriously disappearing. It’s assumed they cashed in and moved to the suburbs—but the fact that the company’s logo is an image of Vlad the Impaler (associated with Dracula in popular culture) is a strong hint that something more sinister is afoot.

When Miguel witnesses a vampire killing firsthand, he recruits his BFFs Bobby (Gerald W. Jones III) and Luis (Gregory Diaz IV) to discover the vampire nest and take out the bloodsuckers. Miguel and his plucky gang prove to be formidable opponents, so vampires in search of easy territorial pickings would do well to heed local livestream sensation Gloria’s closing words: “You don’t want no smoke with the BX.” If the Goonies battled vampires in the Bronx, this would be that movie.

Werewolves Within (2021)

Black man in rangers uniform wielding an axe in each hand — Credit: IFC Films

Werewolves Within is a warmly satirical horror comedy loosely based on the Ubisoft multiplayer VR game of the same name. The VR game is essentially a social deduction game, where players take on cartoon avatars, sit in a virtual circle, and try to guess which of them is the werewolf terrorizing a medieval village. Werewolves Within updates the setting to a contemporary mountain town in the Hudson Valley, but it’s the same premise: the people of Beaverfield have to figure out which one of their quirky neighbors is a lying, murdering werewolf.

Director Josh Ruben sets the cheekily irreverent tone right off the bat, playing a deep cut from 1959, “The Phantom Strikes Again,” as Finn Wheeler (Sam Richardson) arrives in Beaverfield to take up his new post as the local park ranger. The ridiculously talented cast members all possess the skills and onscreen ensemble chemistry to make the script come alive. Granted, the characters aren’t especially deep—more akin to what you’d find in the best sketch comedy—but that suits the film’s tone. And there is a moral to the tale, courtesy of Finn and his role model, Mister Rogers: that at its heart, the town is a community, despite their differences, and everyone is at their best when they remember their common humanity.

The Menu (2022)

Chef in white coat presiding over a team of assistants preparing fancy dishes — Credit: Searchlight Pictures

At the highest echelon of fine dining, a multi-course meal can attain a level of theatricality that elevates it to performance art. In the case of horror/comedy The Menu, it’s a particularly macabre kind of performance art. Ralph Fiennes stars as Julian Slowik, a disillusioned celebrity chef who presides over a fictional molecular gastronomy restaurant called Hawthorne, located on an exclusive private island. Chef Slowik invites a select group of guests for a very special dinner, but the presence of Margo (Anya Taylor-Joy) as a last-minute substitute throws a wrench into his carefully planned revenge.

This is a subculture that presents an easy target for cheap shots, but The Menu opts for sharp, scalpel precision in its satire. Its barbs often leave the viewer speechless with delight, like the bread course served without anything so pedestrian as actual bread, just the fancy accoutrements—and a pinot noir with “notes of longing and regret.” Director Mark Mylod masterfully controls the tone throughout, beginning with odd passive-aggressive comments from Chef Slowik and his staff (“You will eat less than you desire and more than you deserve”) before escalating into outright horror. Margo has joined the ranks of the best Final Girls in horror. And despite the horror elements, Mylod never sacrifices the biting comedy that makes this film such a delectable pleasure.

Jennifer is a senior reporter at Ars Technica with a particular focus on where science meets culture, covering everything from physics and related interdisciplinary topics to her favorite films and TV series. Jennifer lives in Baltimore with her spouse, physicist Sean M. Carroll, and their two cats, Ariel and Caliban.

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