Hagazussa (Prime)
Hagazussa is an Old High German word meaning something close to “hedge sitter,” and it refers to an old woman who would sit on the border between worlds: literally, the shrubs between society and the wild forest, and symbolically between that of the physical and the unknown. It is also where we get the words “hag” and “hex.”
This moody fable is the graduation project of Austrian filmmaker Lukas Feigelfeld, and it has drawn comparisons to Robert Eggers’ The Witch. It possesses the same instinctual attraction to themes of isolation and superstition, and the inherent power of the natural world, both magnetic and perilous. If you are looking for something with a digestible plot and tidy resolutions, look elsewhere. But if it’s atmosphere you want, Hagazussa casts quite the spell.
Train to Busan (Netflix)
The critical and commercial success of Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite has turned many fresh eyes toward the films of South Korea, and many viewers are discovering or revisiting Sang-ho Yeon’s zombie thriller Train to Busan. The zombie subgenre has invaded mainstream entertainment, but Yeon’s live action debut manages to stand apart with its breakneck pace, deft cinematography, and surprisingly emotional heart.
Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Baby Driver) said it was the “best zombie movie I’ve seen in forever,” which is high praise from one of the most watchable directors of the past decade. Its animated prequel Seoul Station is also available to stream on Shudder and Prime, and the live action sequel Peninsula will be released later this year.
Lake Mungo (Prime)
Joel Anderson’s low budget Lake Mungo is a muted psychological mystery which he prefers to think of as “an exploration of grief,” and the ways we use technology to document our memories. It explores the aftermath of the tragic drowning of 16-year-old Alice Palmer, and her family’s attempt to cope not only with her death, but with the apparent sightings of her image haunting them afterwards.
Our expectations and sense of reality are quietly and unnervingly eroded as the film winds on—even for this desensitized horror fan, there were a couple moments in the second half which were literally hair-raising. It is a cleverly cyclical examination of death and fate and what it takes to let go.
Cam (Netflix)
Horror has long grappled with the practical and philosophical implications of technology and its impact on our lives. Cam is inspired partly by writer Isa Mazzei’s own experience as a camgirl, who has said that she wanted to make a film that would make audiences empathize with a sex worker.
In the film, Alice (Madeline Brewer) works her way up the rankings on a cam site before her account is taken over by an imposter who looks exactly like her. Her professional and personal lives messily collide as she attempts to confront her doppelgänger, who takes the stolen exhibition to new extremes. There is body horror here, but it’s not the point. Cam aims to fuck with your head, and the violence serves as an exclamation point on a dark and cerebral train of thought.
A Field in England (Prime)
It is not difficult to describe the very basic premise of Ben Wheatley’s black and white psycho-drama A Field In England, but it’s hard to describe with certainty anything that happens beyond that. A small group of deserters in England’s 17th century civil war come across a deranged alchemist while trekking through a field, and then, well.
It is at once disarmingly droll and emotionally and physically violent; it works as an absurd (and surprisingly scatological) black comedy, a viscerally upsetting fable, and a cautionary tale about overdoing it on magic mushrooms. Or is it a cautionary tale about not overdoing it on magic mushrooms? Salvation, if it can even be found, might belong to those foolhardy enough to launch themselves down the rabbit hole. And even then the light at the end of it may just be a glimmering destruction. Many will find the the whole experience maddeningly obtuse, but adventurous viewers will be rewarded with one heck of a trip.
A Ghost Story (Netflix)
My favorite college professor was deeply in love with the poetry of William Blake, and he had this hunch that every poem ever written was about death, even when it wasn’t about death. It’s the kind of statement that seems provably false while nevertheless ringing true. At the risk of sounding trite, A Ghost Story feels in some ways more like a poem than a movie, a quiet and sorrowful verse about love and death and time; how all of them just might be made of the same stuff, and how little we understand of each. It is a little movie tenderly exploring the biggest things we can possibly imagine, and if you are feeling patient and receptive you might find that its sad and hopeful story of loss lingers long after it is over (if anything is ever truly over), and that it murmurs something that you feel and hope deeply to be true.
Disclaimer: if you are looking for a conventional or frightening horror movie, you will almost certainly be disappointed by this film, which has more to do with romance than dread. It is a reflective art house film that only belongs very tenuously to the genre.
Green Room (Netflix)
This is one of two movies on this list where we get to see some Nazis destroyed, which always does a body good. After the success of indie crime drama Blue Ruin, director Jeremy Saulnier felt he had a small window to direct an ultra-violent thriller inspired by his youthful experiences as a punk rocker. Set in the lush Pacific Northwest, a young punk band performs a fraught show in front of a crowd of skinheads (none too amused by the band’s rendition of “Nazi Punks Fuck Off”) before a moment of backroom violence sends everything directly to hell.
Saulnier has said that he’s not a fan of hand-holding exposition, and his films have proved this; Green Room is a taut and uncompromising thriller, and it does not shy from abrupt and startling violence. It unfolds with a sense of brutal authenticity because it spends no energy on narrative filler or prepackaged filmic convention. Nazi punks fuck off!
Overlord (Prime)
Julius Avery’s war horror Overlord is the second Nazi-killing film on this list, but it forgoes the realism of Green Room for outrageous, action-packed wartime mayhem that feels inspired by the likes of Castle Wolfenstein and Hellboy. On the eve of the Allied invasion of Normandy during WW2, a group of U.S. paratroopers drops over rural France, only to be mostly destroyed in the process.
The small group of surviving soldiers led by Corporal Ford (Wyatt Russell) and Private Boyce (Jovan Adepo) are intent on completing their mission: destroy a Nazi radio tower that links Berlin with the Third Reich’s troops at Normandy. This is a gruesome, balls out, morally uncomplicated thriller that finds success through impressive and largely practical special effects, and a script that provides just enough characterization to make us care about its small and likable cast.
The Killing of a Sacred Deer (Prime)
Those familiar with the works of Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos (The Lobster, Dogtooth) already know the lengths he will go to mess up your entire day. The Killing of a Sacred Deer has some broad connections to an ancient Greek tragedy starring Agamemnon and Artemis, but the story is nearly unrecognizable when filtered through Lanthimos’ twisted, auteurist vision of family tragedy and impossible choices.
The crux of the plot lies in an unthinkable ultimatum presented to an accomplished heart surgeon (Colin Farrell), which casts the reality of his world in a grim new light. This is a film that inspires actual physical discomfort, and an existential dread that has the terrible, naked undeniability of a nightmare that gets at a deep fear of powerlessness and inexplicable tragedy.
The Invitation (Netflix)
Horror production company Blumhouse is looking to keep the momentum going after the success of The Invisible Man, and Karyn Kusama has recently been announced to team up with them to direct an upcoming Dracula film. If you are unfamiliar with her work, you should watch the tandem of Jennifer’s Body and The Invitation to get a sense of her range as a horror director.
Kusama and writers Phil Hay and Matt Manfredi (who have both been connected to the upcoming Dracula project) create a sense of thick dread in The Invitation, in which drifting friends reunite at a dinner party that hides some sinister ulterior motives. It is a slow burn thriller that thrives on its strong performances and careful execution of screw-turning suspense.