- The Blair Witch Project: A "marmite" film if ever there was one. People either love it or they hate it. Personally, I think it was a work of genius; horror with all of the unnecessary clutter of story, character, development, resolution etc pared away, leaving only the raw emotion of terror. Every time I watch it, I get chills and flutters up my spine. There comes a point in the movie when you KNOW those students aren't getting out of the woods alive. For me, it's the scene when they come across all of the hanging stick figures in the clearing. That is an overt threat; someone, or something is toying with them, seeing how far it can push them before their sanity shatters...terrifying.
- Alien: The classic, born from a confluence of happy coincidences the most felicitous of which was the inclusion of H.R Giger as an on-set designer for the monster and its environs. This film is multi-layered. On the one hand, it works as a fairly disturbing science-fiction horror. On the other, you have all of the Freudian birth and sexual imagery; an alien ship that resembles splayed legs, the labial opening in between providing entrance; an alien creature that essentially resembles a vagina with legs and a tail that "rapes" the first man to come across it and impregnates him, resulting in a spectacularly messy birth for a secondary creature that resembles a penis with teeth. Both Giger and director Ridley Scott play on these sexual elements to induce a state of ambivalence in the audience; on the one hand, the alien is horrific; it kills and devours its prey, it slathers, it hisses, it appears as if from nowhere. On the other, it is distressingly beautiful, so much so that actress Sigourney Weaver once stated that she'd love to do an Alien movie in which "Ripley" and the alien have a sex scene! This is truly wonderful stuff; archetypal of the ideas-driven, genre-defining horror that came out of the late seventies, and still as gut-wrenching today.
- The Shining: Another densely layered meditation, this time on the subjects of isolation and madness. Symbolism abounds in the Overlook Hotel, whose hexagonally-patterned carpets resemble skin cells, whose twisting corridors seem to seethe with watchfulness and intent. The tension is incredible for the first hour or so, in which director Stanley Kubrick teases the audience with suggestions as to what might potentially be happening: is Jack going mad? Is he succumbing to some supernatural force at large in the hotel? Or is it both? Until sanity finally shatters, everything begins to crumble, resulting in some of the most out and out distressing scenes in cinema history.
- Hellraiser: A beast of a different ilk, this. A brave experiment by author-cum-director Clive Barker, in which he attempts to show us the allure of the grotesque, the pleasure of pain, and the wonders of Hell. Unfairly often categorised along with brainless gornography efforts like Hostel, Hellraiser is a work whose overt depictions of pain and bodily mutilation carry an intense, almost artistic charge. You know that the subject matter of what you are seeing is grotesque, horrendous even, yet the manner in which it is presented, the patterns into which it is shaped are disturbingly beautiful, functioning as a metaphor on why people like horror, why we keep coming back to these scenes of sadism, of torment, of pain and death. The Cenobites, creatures that have made an aesthetic and religion out of warping and corrupting their own bodies, are each as fascinating as they are grotesque, the extremity they represent something that demands attention, and consideration beyond the purely sensationalist. I wouldn't say that this film is frightening as such; it doesn;t set out to shock or make you drop your pop corn. Rather, it leaves you feeling soiled, unsettled, as if you've witnessed somethingf forbidden, and liked it. Which is a wonderful thing for any horror film to do.