Looking for something to watch on Halloween night? Sabastian Astley has got your back with five unmissable Halloween night horrors that will leave your nerves shaken and your popcorn scattered across the floor.
1. Eyes Without a Face (1960)
Eyes Without a Face has a lot going on. Cited as one of Edgar Wright’s favourite horror films, it’s clear to see why – it’s packed with meaning, but not densely so. What I really enjoy about George Franju’s Eyes Without a Face is the tension between its artistic merit and the horrific imagery it sutures together, much like Christiane’s face itself. It has a beautifully poetic language, using visual metaphors to deepen its world and the emotional complexity of each character. Contrast is at the heart of Eyes Without a Face, running through its very being.
Everyone has a façade; no one is who they truly seem to be. There is so much rich meaning inscribed in it that multiple viewings will change your perception and your interpretations of the film each time. It’s an example of a remarkably complex yet seductively inviting picture that represents how the horror genre can produce something magnificently malicious, and should be respected within its art form.
2. Kolobos (1999)
I picked up Kolobos, directed by Daniel Liatowitsch and David Todd Ocvirk, as a blind buy from Arrow, and found it very intriguing. Sitting on the precipice between Cube and Saw, Kolobos plays with the malicious nature of reality TV before it’d really taken off, and before films like My Little Eye could truly jump on that bandwagon. It feels prophetic about many of the issues and characters we’d come to see every day, which makes it a fascinating film to dissect. It smashes a lot of different styles together, with some Suspiria-inspired colouring and Gothic characterisations into this big pot of sinister soup. It’s certainly not a film for everyone, but it feels like one of those hidden gems that’s just dying for a retrospective to push it into the horror lexicon and find a cult fandom that appreciates it properly.
3. Woman of the Photographs (2020)
When I caught Woman of the Photographs at FrightFest 2020, I called it a ‘masterwork of the decade.’ Everything in Takeshi Kushida’s work is executed with precise intention, every frame a rich, complex composition to unpack and analyse, a magic contained in each. It’s a very different approach to horror, closer to a reflection on the human condition than a privation of it. What Kushida finds horrific are these parasitic manifestations of our consciousness, eating away at us and leaving us empty, and the collective violence wreaked upon us by the gaze of others. This constant reassessment, re-evaluation, and redesigning of ourselves is, in itself, a creature devouring and mutilating us, without our realising it. It’s truly a brilliant conceptualisation of horror, using the psychological ‘Other’ within us – I cannot wait to see what he does next.
4. Haunt (2019)
So Haunt was the next film for the writing duo of Scott Beck and Bryan Woods (A Quiet Place), but timeline-wise, it’s one of their older projects. The premise is simple – it’s an extreme haunted house that seems a little too extreme, and before you know it, these teens are trapped inside. It’s got elements of the escape room sub-genre, with its Saw-like creativity in the different rooms, but it’s definitely giving new life to the slasher genre.
Haunt has so many little moments that fill you with unease and a palpable anxiety that really build to get your heart pounding – I even forgive Beck and Woods for breaking the Mask Rule in horror (keep the mask on, or you stop being scary), because they manage to circumvent it. It plays on a lot of archetypal fears we see in horror – the scary mask, being trapped, being hunted by the unknown – and brings it all together into an unexpectedly great slasher.
5. Possum (2018)
This is just a deeply, deeply unsettling film. Containing one of the most disturbing-looking puppets I’ve ever seen in my life, Matthew Holness’s Possum is a cold dive into murky, psychological waters. Some films make you feel warm and safe – this film makes you feel ice-cold and completely uncomfortable, often without doing anything. As we learn more and more, we begin to trust our protagonist Phillip less and less – from the opening, he strikes you as odd, like we’re in bad company. Every element of this film seems strategically designed to make you feel off.
A lot of Possum is just wandering across moors and abandoned buildings, and yet there is this protruding fear that infects every frame. Part of this comes from the seemingly-immortal nature of Possum itself, with its spider-like legs and its unblinking, soul-piercing gaze. Possum manages to touch you in a place that not only did you not know existed, but never would want anyone to access.
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