We are closing the books on 2022, and one thing is clear: horror movies are mainstream. This can and often does come with its own problems (just look at comic movie fandom), but overall it would seem to be good news for horror fans and filmmakers.

Genre films continue to show impressive box office resilience in a streaming-friendly distribution landscape, and the indie appeal of the horror genre makes it somewhat better-equipped to weather the often stultifying effects of rampant studio monopolization. Most of the biggest horror franchises aren’t represented on this list, but nonetheless they did a lot to uplift the box office in a year of high highs and prolonged lulls. Movie exhibition is in a precarious place, but horror isn’t going anywhere.

As always, I qualify my yearly “Best Of” article as a fun and subjective exercise in highlighting those new genre films that I found to be the most impactful to me personally—I didn’t watch everything (Bones and All is a notable absence), but I watched a lot. All of these films shushed the ego part of my brain, at least for a little while, and showed me something memorable and new.

X

Director: Ti West
Distributor: A24

2022 might be called the year of Mia Goth (or more precisely, the year of the West-Goth team up). Director Ti West (who hadn’t directed a true horror film since 2013’s The Sacrament) partnered with A24 for not one but two new horror movies: both part of a filmic universe that salutes Classical Hollywood while giving Mia Goth a platform for arguably the most impressive acting performances of the year. 

X is a triumphant return to form for West, and for horror fans, a delightfully clever and gruesome homage to the American slasher. The DNA of Texas Chain Saw Massacre runs strong in these veins, but West and Goth aren’t just cashing in on nostalgia. This is the genre evolving right in front of our eyes: smartly acknowledging what came before, while composing a new story about American exceptionalism, the pains of getting older, and what it means to be exploited.

NOPE

Director: Jordan Peele
Distributor: Universal Pictures

In 2017, Jordan Peele spearheaded a monster year for the horror genre with his politically ferocious smash debut Get Out. His sophomore effort two years later (the class-conscious Us, starring the brilliant Lupita Nyong’o) lacked the trenchant clarity of his debut, but proved (again) Peele’s grasp of darkly comedic timing and ambitions for searing social commentary.

Nope is Peele’s biggest movie yet, both in budget and in scope—and this sense of nearly impossible scale is very much the point. Inspired by his well-earned creative leeway and the realities of an entertainment industry shifting towards home streaming, Peele & Co dared viewers to leave the home and bask in audacious, larger-than-life mystery (best appreciated in IMAX) . Nope is a thrilling and gleefully cinematic alien invasion film that self-reflexively questions our societal urge to control and exploit whatever we can—the bigger the spectacle, the better. 

BARBARIAN

Director: Zach Cregger
Distributor: 20th Century Studios

Zach Cregger is known primarily as one of the founding members of the comedy troupe The Whitest Kids U’ Know, but that may be changing. Barbarian marks his debut as a writer-director, and the electrifying and darkly funny thriller earned ten times its $4.5 million budget by way of positive reviews and some excellent word of mouth.

Cregger has said that he filmed Barbarian without an outline, and it shows; the film is a structural anomaly, and the unpredictable narrative layout leads to at least two wildly disorienting transitions. Would this be a better movie with more deliberate plotting? Possibly. But that might neuter a story that has found success specifically because it does such a good job of keeping audiences on their heels. You can only watch Barbarian for the first time once, so enjoy it.

YOU WON’T BE ALONE

Director: Goran Stolevski
Distributors: Focus Features, Universal Pictures

This is a terribly personal comparison, but Goran Stolevski’s witchy debut You Won’t Be Alone feels a bit like this year’s Sator—not because they share any cast or crew (they are tonally quite different), but because both of them are indie festival hits that prioritize haunting atmosphere over conventional plotting or crowd-friendly pacing (translation: this is a slow burn, so come prepared). 

You Won’t Be Alone follows the journey of a naive 19th-century witch in Macedonia, and her bid to find meaning and intimacy as a cultural and societal outsider. Mark Bradshaw’s lush score and Sara Klimoska’s hushed voiceover imbue the folkloric tale with an aching poetry (I was reminded of Malick’s meditative epic The Tree of Life), and its melancholic beauty illustrates the emotional range of the horror genre. It forces us to re-examine our relationship with the natural world, and appreciate anew what it means to be (and to become) human—with all the pain, love, and loss that defines the experience. 

THE MENU

Director: Mark Mylod
Distributor: Searchlight Pictures

Foodie culture has gone too far. What was once a budding American culture of genuine culinary appreciation has become a pageant of “conspicuous consumption”—an increasingly exclusive club of elitist critics and grotesquely wealthy patrons, positioned further and further up their own asses as the previously universal enjoyment of food becomes something reserved for those with the status and vernacular to enjoy it properly. The joy of eating (and making) food is cynically commodified, and becomes subject to all the exploitative forces of the corrupting system. Welcome to capitalism!

There is plenty more nuance (and optimism) to be had in the conversation about foodie culture, but The Menu’s satirical edges have been sharpened by the considerable amount of truth in the above summary. Writers Seth Reiss and Will Tracy are clearly having fun skewering the most cynical elements of the gourmet restaurant industry, and underneath the film’s sly intellectualism and impeccable production design is a barely restrained silliness. It may be presented as elevated dining, but for fans of class-conscious black comedy, this is comfort food.

THE INNOCENTS

Director: Eskil Vogt
Distributor: IFC Midnight

Norwegian filmmaker Eskil Vogt has had a hell of a year. He debuted two films at Cannes in 2021: the captivating dramedy The Worst Person in the World (which he co-wrote with director Joachim Trier), and his spellbinding horror-drama The Innocents, set at a Nordic apartment complex at the height of summer.

The plot and characterization centers on a group of children forming new bonds and navigating fraught moral decisions as they begin to assert their presence in the world; this relatable coming of age scenario finds a new and profound wrinkle when they begin to discover that each of them possess unique supernatural powers. The Innocents achieves nerve-wracking suspense in broad daylight, accomplished through a smart (and effects-light) script and tremendous acting from its child stars. It’s a dramatic and nail-biting slow burn that gives full credit to the intelligence and interior lives of children in a psychic battleground, unbeknownst to the unwitting adults around them. But be warned: it contains one of the most upsetting animal deaths I’ve seen in a movie.

PEARL

Director: Ti West
Distributor: A24

What began as a character-building exercise between Ti West and Mia Goth during production of X quickly turned into a full-blown prequel script: Pearl, the origin story of the titular would-be starlet (played with barn-burning relish by Goth, who picked up both writing and executive producing credits for her central role in the project). The third film in the trilogy (titled MaXXXine) is already in development.

West acknowledges the heavy inspirations of Tobe Hooper and Mario Bava in the tone and theme of X, but Pearl strikes quite a different style (what West likens to a “demented Disney movie”). Despite the tonal contrast, Pearl goes even deeper into X’s audit of American exceptionalism, and the brittleness of the American dream when faced with bitter reality and more than a touch of unhinged psychopathy festering in a repressive society. Pearl is a Technicolor showcase for the talent and work ethic of the magnetic Mia Goth, and a ticking time bomb homage to the Golden Age of Hollywood.

MEN

Director: Alex Garland
Distributor: Entertainment Film Distributors

There may not be a more controversial 2022 horror film than Alex Garland’s third feature, which stars Jessie Buckley as a traumatized widow seeking a respite in the English countryside—before being unfairly re-traumatized by the men of the rural village (all played with wicked relish by an elastic Rory Kinnear). Men has been accused of being tone-deaf, heavy-handed, overwrought and unnecessarily gross, and prompted some to ask: just how seriously should we take the opinions of cishet men in the conversation about misogyny and gendered abuse? When do stories about sexist violence become exploitative or counterproductive?

The question of authorship has come into sharp focus especially since the onset of the #MeToo movement, and Garland has defended his right to tell the stories he chooses (and has asserted that he does so from a place of respect and collaboration). Needless to say, this is a debate that will continue on. While I feel conflicted about the implied gender essentialism that leads to the story’s philosophical dead end, I can say with confidence that this is a downright scary movie, with some of the most gorgeous and disturbing imagery of the year—beautifully captured by DP Rob Hardy and thoughtfully scored by Salisbury and Barrow. Some viewers simply will not have the emotional space for another story about traumatized women, and I respect that—but the ambition and artistry on display in Men is undeniable.

WE’RE ALL GOING TO THE WORLD’S FAIR

Director: Jane Schoenbrun
Distributor: Utopia

Jane Schoenbrun knows what it feels like to struggle with imposter syndrome. Schoenbrun’s transition as trans and non-binary happened in conjunction with the writing of their second film (the first being an archival documentary about the creepypasta phenomenon known as Slenderman) and their experience of shame and dysphoria crept into the story—informing the film’s haunting sense of loneliness while staying submerged in the subtext.

The plot, such as it is: Casey is a lonely teenager who decides to take part in the viral “World’s Fair Challenge,” and surrender herself to whatever physical or psychic changes might happen as a result. It’s more important to feel and experience the mood of World’s Fair than it is to “figure out” its thesis or takeaway—the film is a distinctly modern curio, one born of internet subculture and the uniquely contemporary experience of losing yourself (and building yourself) in its obscure places. Its slow pacing and abstruse nature makes it a conditional recommendation, but for those willing to dissolve into its melancholic glow, it will leave an eerie and tender impression.

THE HOUSE

Directors: Emma De Swaef, Marc James Roels, Niki Lindroth von Bahr, Paloma Baeza
Distributor: Netflix

The House is a uniquely collaborative project that brings together a group of first-time directors telling three discrete (but conceptually interconnected) stories, each of them written by Irish playwright Enda Walsh. The common factor is an imposing Georgian-style house, inhabited in three acts by separate groups of characters, each trying (and failing) to impose their will on the stubborn edifice.

The gorgeous animation was done mostly without greenscreen or digital compositing, and the stop-motion artistry imparts a level of tangible detail that is by turns eerie, absorbing, and entrancingly whimsical. Emotionally, The House defies easy categorization. Part I (And heard within, a lie is spun) strikes a fantastically creepy chord unmatched by almost anything else I’ve seen this year, while the third segment ends on a surprisingly uplifting note. It is in the anthology’s narrative threads where we find an important congruity, and an urgent warning: if we don’t unmoor ourselves from the violence of amoral materialism, we will drown in the coming storms.