20 Must-See 2023 Horror Films You May Have Missed

I think the issues, which often turn political in nature, raised some hackles in viewers. Some felt they were being told right from wrong, as opposed to what I perceive as a challenge to understand from a point of view different from my own. Nefarious is so bold as to cover abortion, racism, slavery, and capital punishment, among other worldly issues that can become triggering very quickly.

Flanery’s character gives especially dubious religious history lessons, which are sacrilegious to some. Yet, from a purely creative point of view, the retelling of how the angels fell and the perceived fall of man from a demon’s perspective is rather interesting. The film refuses to use the lord’s name and instead calls him “ The Carpenter.” Whether you’re religious or not, this take on theology is fresher than the dusty Bible tales we are so frequently told.

Flanery is a sight to behold, demanding your attention when possessed by the demon and doing his finest work, tugging your heartstrings to feel empathy for a death row inmate.

Alternating between a stuttering, sobbing mess and a cold, twitching entity merely manipulating its host, he plays both roles flawlessly. He keeps you guessing about his sanity all the way up until the film’s final moments.

Jordan Belfi, as the arrogantly sure doctor, is a perfect pick as well, but up against Flanery’s acting, he’s almost a supporting character rather than our focus.

David Slade, also responsible for the excellent 30 Days of Night, knows how to show us the darkness as its own character. The sun in daytime scenes is only there to highlight the shadows while the night comes to life with the deep blues of the land and gold from the corn acting as the perfect backdrop for Sawtooth Jack.

And Sawtooth Jack is scary.

His head is a pumpkin, which reminds us of “pumpkin heads” past, but it is pulled in tightly to a skull shape and is full of actual teeth instead of V-shaped carvings. It sits atop a long, spindly body that brings nightmares reminiscent of insects, spiders, or pop culture characters like aliens or slender men.

Not only does he look scary, but, like any good supernatural monster, he seems to be everywhere at once and nigh unstoppable, no matter how many teenage boys are starved for days and sent by their parents and the sheriff to hunt him down.

Less than 10 minutes in, Officer Ricks tells us everything we need to know about our town.

The older teenagers are crowded in the high school gym, not for a pep rally, but for a lecture on the dangers that want to “destroy our way of life.”  He tells us he’s talking about Sawtooth Jack. Yet, the movie has already told us the dangers he means are not only black and brown people but also anyone who wants anything more than the town offers — the latter illustrated by characters being physically prevented from passing the town’s border.

It’s certainly unsettling. Aster beautifully turns visual things that are typically felt but unseen.

The first part of the movie turns Beau’s anxiety into something very literal and threatening; as someone who has dealt with that particular affliction all my life, I’ve never seen something that so beautifully and perfectly articulates a reaction that defies verbalization. Beau’s frantic darting through landscapes that constantly shift felt familiar and real despite being incredibly abstract.

But don’t get too comfortable because then, suddenly, there’s a long, beautiful stretch of paper-cut outs and Michel Gondry-esque animation. Or the strangest possible use of “Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey you could possibly imagine.

But above all else, Joaquin Phoenix is Beau is Afraid‘s secret weapon. He is probably the best actor of an entire generation. Often at great risk to his own person, but goddamn. The man is a genius, and he does more with simply his eyes in Beau is Afraid than many actors can do with their entire bodies.

Fear and tragedy fold together in a family way as Art manipulates his father to gain capital to save his failing financials. It’s heartbreaking to watch a man of such strong faith and conviction make an effort to change himself to his son’s more “modern” way of living, only to see that there was no good faith in this offering.

The dramatic tensions between characters are worth investing in, elevating the film beyond its supernatural elements.

Instead of a Holy Bible, we see more Hebrew, the Torah, and references to demons from a very secretive culture that harbors its own set of boogeymen. Christianity’s monopoly on dispelling evil spirits should have a challenger from another sect to say that evil doesn’t come from the same singular place, nor is it only affected by one type of moral purity, such as crosses, when we see that other types of religious iconography such as pendants sealing scripture and circles of ash rather than salt.

The demoness in this film wants the ultimate sacrilege: the sacrifice of a child. This feral beast is intelligent and hungry, making it an excellent contender to play with the mind of the manipulative Art and his less-than-informed wife.

What I love most about Horror is its irreverence for societal norms: The genre always comments on how we cling to tradition despite it having lost much of its original meaning in modern settings.

Thanksgiving opens in 2022 during a Black Friday sales event in the town of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Plymouth is the home of the Colony, founded in 1620 by the Mayflower Pilgrims, which was the birthplace of the first Thanksgiving Feast.

This year, however, no thanks are given, and instead, life is taken when a crowd of angry locals stampedes a retail store on the eve of the sales. This culminates in a bloody riot, which claims the lives of residents who are crushed, trampled, and mutilated as overweight shoppers fight like Alleycats over their free waffle irons.

This opening scene calls to mind the Christmas sale riots depicted in Michael Dougherty’s Krampus (2015). Human greed and jealousy supersede the holiday spirit of giving, setting the tone for a pessimistic Holiday Horror, which reflects the solipsistic attitude widely seen in our Western culture today.

The most anxiety-inducing scenes in the movie are the ones that depict how ordinary citizens regress into animals out of sheer greed and jealousy; watching John Carver ruthlessly murder these feral citizens feels somewhat… justified.

Herein lies the genius of Roth’s writing. He presents the ‘innocent’ as morally corrupt and thus gives his audience permission to cheer when the main characters meet their ends in increasingly grisly ways.

Thanksgiving is not a political film. It does not set out to raise awareness of the plight of the Indigenous peoples nor explore the nuances of how the original Mayflower settlers integrated into the fabric of Plymouth. Roth’s tasty dish instead takes the simple notion of giving thanks and gratitude and inverts this sentiment — exposing the greed, narcissism, and nepotism of its characters.

(I want to insert a spoiler alert for any curious fans who seek out the original Grindhouse trailer from 2007: be aware that the ‘secret’ identity of the killer from the current 2023 Thanksgiving movie is revealed!)

When first introduced to Ella, she is at a friend’s baby shower. Rather than attention being on the expectant mother, it is instead trained on Ella, the only childless member of the friendship group. She is consistently asked when she and her husband are going to have a baby, and although Ella insists motherhood is not in her plan, her friends continue to push her.

This early sequence will be familiar to most women of child-bearing age. There is constant questioning about when you will have a child. Even if you are already a mother, the pressure to have more children is still thrust upon you. It is a horrible cycle fully realised by Jacknow, and may stir up some latent frustration and anger.

As Ella approaches her 38th birthday, she begins to question if there is something wrong with her. During a visit to her gynaecologist, Ella is told about a revolutionary treatment that will reset, or ‘fix’, her biological clock. Curious, Ella attends the holistic retreat in the middle of nowhere. A strict regime of treatments is enforced to help encourage Ella to want children whilst at the same time preparing her body for pregnancy.

Cue all manner of horrific moments.

As Ella begins the treatment, it seems to be ‘working’. Suddenly, Ella seems broodier than before. But is the treatment really ‘working’ because there was something ‘wrong’ with Ella, or is she just being brainwashed and indoctrinated into society’s point of view?

Jacknow does come down on a side eventually, but the journey treads through some dangerous territory.

She weaponizes her trauma and uses it as motivation to fight the bad guys. Becky represents the voiceless, and goddamn does she fight for them.

The Wrath Of Becky feels like a movie from an earlier era. From the quick-cuts reminiscent of an Edgar Wright movie, to the gory, unhinged fight sequences, the movie has a gleefully retro feel. Playing Becky, Lulu Wilson is a force of nature. She transitions between resting-bitch-face and guttural screaming in seconds, and her piercing eyes quickly soften, exposing her hidden vulnerability.

If Becky is a Superhero, then her loyal companion, Diego, is her Sidekick. What is cooler than a Cane Corso as a lethal protector?

It would be easy to compare Becky to John Wick. Harm Diego and incur her wrath. However, what differentiates her is her ordinariness. Becky does not have military training or study self-defense. She is a petite kid who decides to take a stand against her oppressors, and that’s why audiences will adore her.

Director Laurence Vannicelli opts to keep the soundscape subdued and the locations intimate. In doing so, he throws its characters to the forefront. Emmett and Anya are both fully fleshed and complex. Even without the added intrigue of the potential third person, they have plenty to offer the viewer.

Prior to Anya’s transformation, it is clear that this is a couple on a path to destruction, though neither is willing to admit it. Due to his traumatic upbringing and abandonment issues, Emmett is determined to have a child. Through his offspring he clearly wants to correct the mistakes made in his own childhood.

His intensity pressures Anya who isn’t certain that she wants to commit to a broken man fully. In an attempt to work through their problems, they use some role-playing therapy techniques, and these sequences are a big highlight of Mother May I?

Unpicking the riddle of whether the possession is real or fabricated is the tasty icing of this deliciously dark drama.

The rich center of Mother May I? is found within the intricate performances. The interplay between Gallner and Roden is electric. Both actors commit to their roles so fiercely that the masks of Emmett and Anya / Tracey fit so well that Gallner and Roden fully disappear inside of them.

As Emmett, Gallner shows a more delicate and sensitive side than in his 2022 offerings. His portrayal of Emmett’s pain at his girlfriend suddenly acting like the mother who was cruel to him is stunning. Gallner unravels Emmett’s psyche slowly, forgoing the expected hysteria and crafting a much more somber silhouette.

Playing both Anya and Tracey, Roden has two roles to inhabit, and she communicates them both perfectly. Just by the way she holds herself, the viewer understands which personality is in charge of Anya’s body. It is stellar work from Roden, and you really feel how much she cares about both of these women.

For me, this film made my list of 2023 favorites for three reasons:

1. The cast. My top three standouts are Eden Brolin (Riley), Owen Campbell (Levi; also in X, he feels like a familiar, albeit mildly fucked up, friend these days), and William Baldwin (Sherriff Rex). Brolin and Campbell bring the kind of ease to roles that, if not handled with skill, can quickly become dismissible caricatures. Sex work is far more common than folks realize, and Brolin and Campbell remind us they might be our sassy or sweet, intensely loyal friends. Riley’s exchange with Sadie about strawberry legs and Levi’s radiating kindness made me feel like we were close, too. And I’m a sucker for a Baldwin. Rex was given some of the most questionable (bordering on forced) dialogue, which he delivered with confidence and sincerity only a Baldwin can wield to help ensure we don’t disconnect from the ridiculousness.

2. Remy’s climax. I felt this moment in my toes (… and if I’m being truthful, it made the lady bits twinkle). I cannot claim to have an expert handle on the wild and wacky world of kinks and fetishes, but Olivia Luccardi (Remy) made me a believer. As a former Sunday School teacher, I found myself wishing that maybe she would find her own salvation in that epic orgasm. Alas, there is no ultimate “happy ending” to be found here. But this sequence will be seared into my memory for the foreseeable future.

3. Dentures. That’s all you get here. See for yourself.

One of the clever aspects of Eklund’s film is that these would-be corporate imperialists aren’t very good at what they do. They’re manipulating finances, lying about business partnerships, and growing more hateful of one another. What could possibly go wrong, you ask?

The teambuilding conference takes a turn for the worse as emotions run high and accusations of corruption create a tense work environment. The situation escalates when a mysterious figure begins stalking and murdering the participants.

However, these resilient Swedish municipal employees prove to be quite difficult to eliminate, turning the movie into a darkly comedic slasher.

Katia Winter, known for her role as Nadia in Dexter, portrays Lina, the most affable member of a group of profit-driven assistants. Lina returns from a hiatus to find that the contracts do not compensate farmers whose land has been unlawfully taken. While at a corporate retreat that resembles an abandoned summer camp, with zip lines and all, she endeavors to uncover the responsible party. Although Lina has some people in her corner, most of her colleagues echo the approach of their relentlessly creepy boss, Ingela, who relies on an unsettling smile to motivate her team.

When Leah suffers a seizure and subsequent leg injury, she and Maja return to Leah’s London home for her to recuperate. This is where we meet Leah’s Orthodox Jewish mother, Chana. What unfolds once they arrive is a slow-burn thriller revolving around a dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship and dark secrets rooted in Jewish folklore and mysticism.

Maja starts to realize that things aren’t what they seem to be and that Chana might not have Leah’s best interest at heart.

There is something special here. I hope for more possession movies that continue to explore the darker parts of other religions outside of the worn-out Catholic/Christian tied-to-the-bed exorcism stories. Attachment, along with 2023’s The Offering and 2019’s The Vigil, have begun to explore that aspect of Judaism. I would love to see some films dealing with the darker aspects of other religions like Islam, Hinduism, Shikh, and Buddhism.

With AI currently a polarizing topic in nearly every field, from fiction writing to military applications, The Creator’s story is also pretty timely, even if it does go in the exact opposite direction of The Terminator. Yes, this is a more hopeful take on robot sentience, which allows for a more unique take on the genre.

Aside from all the robots vs. humans shenanigans, a few other concepts are going on beneath the hood. Not much, mind you, as The Creator suffers from frequent moments of “style over substance”. That said, there ARE a few heavy topics that the film touches on. This includes exploring what it means to be human, if something artificial can have a soul, the overwhelming weight of regret, and the stranglehold that grief can have on even the most well-meaning of people.

But it never dives deeply enough into them to say anything important or new.

John David Washington absolutely shines in The Creator, ably capturing each emotion that his character, Joshua, goes through (which is just about all of them). A movie like this wouldn’t work as well with a stoic protagonist, a la Blade Runner. Fortunately, Joshua is an imminently likable character, and the way in which his emotional armor gets stripped away during the course of the proceedings makes him both endearing and believable.

On the other side of the thespian coin is newcomer Madeline Yuna Voyles as Alphie, the robotic child in question. Starting out as a cipher, dissociative by design, Alphie gradually adapts to the outside world, becoming the heart of the movie, and young Madeline goes all in with her expressive face and mannerisms. A lot of child actors are “meh”, but I expect great things from her going forward. Madeline was made to be on screen.

The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, owning their roles – large or small, real or digital.

A sci-fi spectacle should have its fair share of action beats, and The Creator does have moments of military conflict throughout. Some are small, some are grand, but all are well-shot, with nobody getting lost due to questionable editing or shoddy choreography. It’s not a particularly brutal film, nor is it an exercise in precise tactics, but it acquits itself well enough.

The special effects and general cinematography exhibit that “worn & weary” look captured so well by District 9, albeit with MUCH better fidelity. It all just looks so real. Featuring a more subdued palette at times, the colors that are present absolutely pop on an HDR screen. Sound design, too, is phenomenal – the various effects, weapons, and atmospherics are all perfectly captured, while subwoofers will get a hefty workout.

A routine opening of a local fast food establishment becomes a bloodbath when Benson refuses to allow a bully to continue humiliating Randy. It’s a long, uncomfortable scene depicting Randy’s frustrating lack of backbone. It’s also enough to make Benson break out his boomstick and paint the burger joint red.

As Randy witnesses multiple murders, he freezes in place. Half in shock and half awaiting his fate, he looks at Benson for a moment, almost as if he is relieved that he has escaped his existence. I believe Benson noted this and became the catalyst for the forced car ride instead of a bullet.

Kyle Gallner has come a long way since I first saw him in Karyn Kusama’s Jennifer’s Body. His portrayal of Benson is a heartbreaking one. Gallner navigates his character’s moral ambiguity in a thoughtful, dynamic fashion; transitioning from a cold-blooded killer to a mildly affable human being. Benson evokes both empathy and fear as he tears across the countryside with Randy in tow.

Johnny Berchtold gives an equally compelling performance as the reluctant, shell-shocked passenger who is just as broken as Benson. Instead of carrying an explosive disregard for consequences like Benson, Randy has opted for severe self-loathing and meekness.

Moon Garden does, at times, seem like a mashup of disparate genre films that would (normally) not work well together. Think What Dreams May Come as told through the lens of the first two Evil Dead movies. The Neverending Story by way of Mad God.

But by framing the narrative through a five-year-old’s subconscious, those incongruent elements not only align but actually fit quite beautifully together.

What I find absolutely amazing is that none of the sets or effects are exceptionally grand in design, but they are all filmed in such a way that they FEEL expensive. The same can be said about the cinematography. Nothing that transpires on screen is necessarily new, but it’s all implemented so incredibly well that it just works.

The tunnelways made of bedsheets are a particular standout… and absolutely something that a young child would conjure. Although many of Moon Garden’s sets and props are constructed so that you can practically see the seams and joins, they fit the film’s aesthetic so perfectly that it simply doesn’t matter.

It is difficult enough for any single actor to carry the majority of a feature-length film on their shoulders, so it is a testament to Haven Lee Harris’s (the director’s real-life daughter) watchability that she acquits herself as well as she does.

Though she is bolstered by some memorable performances from the various denizens of her dream world, Haven, as Emma, is an absolute delight. She was only four when production started, and as someone who has raised his fair share of children (which is generally akin to herding cats), getting someone that young to emote as well as she does must have been a herculean effort. There are moments when the overdubs of her reactions don’t line up with what’s transpiring on screen, but such instances are few and far between.

By and large, her performance is quite engaging, especially when she is observing her parents (and herself) in the ambulance and at the hospital.

Alas, the parents don’t fare quite as well. I chalk this up more to the material they are working with as opposed to their talents as thespians. When interacting with Haven, both Augie Duke (as Sara, the mom) and Brionne Davis (as Alex, the dad) come across as warm and genuine. Their grief at their daughter’s catatonic state is palpable, as are their disagreements over the best course of medical procedures. It is only when interacting with each other that the performances fall a little flat, providing little in the way of familiarity that a long-married couple would possess.

The rest of the supporting cast fill small but colorful roles, some more deftly than others. Morgana Ignis gives a great body-horror performance as “Teeth”, the antagonist of the movie. Perpetually hidden by a large coat and cap, Ignis has to generate menace primarily through the motions of her hands, feet, and body positioning, and Ignis is more than up to the task.

Outside of “Teeth”, Phillip E. Walker as “Musician” is a standout. His character is given the least amount of screen time out of the bit players but leaves the largest impression by far. His limited role is both vital and bittersweet.

There are intimations of mature themes sprinkled throughout Moon Garden, some of which are handled better than others.

Emma’s dad is an argumentative workaholic (and possibly alcoholic, too, as we see in one brief snippet), while her mom is clearly struggling with depression, occasionally to the point that she can’t even get out of bed. While these scenarios heavily influence the story and Emma’s reactions to the world around her, they just don’t transition as well as they could on screen, which is a shame.

In a naturalistic style that resembles the best of the New French Extremity subgenre, Megalomaniac follows Martha (Eline Schumacher) and Felix (Benjamin Ramon) through the labyrinthine halls of their hellish home, haunted by the demons of the victims of the family trade. The images of blackened flesh and red-eyed bodies lurking and jerking in the corners and on the walls conjure a history of violence that is alluded to but not expressly shown.

At the onset, we’re told the lore of the Butcher of Mons, a notorious serial killer who ravaged the Belgian city of Mons between 1996 and 1997 before vanishing without a trace. Known for the precise dismemberment and dispensing of bodies in black bags along country roads, the Butcher is a real-life killer whose story has been adopted in Megalomaniac, meeting the Butcher’s adult children and continuing legacy in the present day.

Martha and Felix have a fascinating relationship that toddles between familial and erotic love, though the line remains firmly uncrossed outside of Martha’s fantasies.

Felix spends his days and nights carrying on the Butcher’s work, brutalizing women at random, sometimes taking them back to the house, where it feels like their souls are captured and possibly fed to the hibernating spirit of the Butcher. Martha works a humiliating night job as a janitor at a local factory, where she suffers consistent sexual assault at the whims of cruel co-workers, causing her mind to begin to fracture and morph into someone with desires and urges closer to deviance to her brother than an innocent.

Jessica Sula delivers a tour de force performance as the determined yet vulnerable Jessica. Her nuanced portrayal anchors the film, allowing viewers to fully invest in her harrowing journey. Sula’s ability to convey terror, resolve, and emotional complexity elevates the material, carrying the film through its occasional lulls.

Where Malum truly shines is in its visual artistry.

The practical effects are nothing short of breathtaking, rivaling the work of horror legend Bob Keen. Grotesque, meticulously crafted creatures lurk in shadows, their appearances brief but unforgettable. The film’s commitment to practical effects lends a tangible, visceral quality to its horrors that CGI simply cannot replicate.

The set design is a character unto itself. The decommissioned police station, with its labyrinthine corridors and ominous blue-tiled walls, creates an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. DiBlasi masterfully utilizes every corner, hallway, and shadow to instill a pervasive dread. The result is an environment so oppressive and believable that viewers will find themselves scanning the edges of the frame, terrified of what might emerge.

DiBlasi’s decision to delve deeper into the backstory of the protagonist and the demonic cult at the heart of the narrative adds layers of complexity to the film. This expanded mythology enriches the viewing experience, providing context that makes the supernatural elements all the more terrifying.

Set in December 1945, the film unfolds entirely within the confines of a Brooklyn brownstone, where five World War II veterans gather to support their friend, Lt. Col. Clive Hockstatter, who is grieving the recent loss of his wife. What begins as a somber reunion quickly spirals into a night of terror when Clive, fueled by grief and alcohol, insists on conducting a séance to contact his deceased spouse.

Geoghegan’s direction is nothing short of brilliant, maintaining a palpable sense of tension throughout the film’s real-time narrative.

The single-location setting becomes a pressure cooker, amplifying the characters’ internal struggles and interpersonal conflicts. As the night progresses, the brownstone transforms into a battleground where the ghosts of the past collide with the harsh realities of the present.

The ensemble cast delivers exceptional performances, breathing life into complex, multifaceted characters. Anne Ramsay shines as Marla, a former military interrogator who grapples with the weight of her wartime actions. Larry Fessenden’s portrayal of the grief-stricken Clive is heart-wrenching, while Jeremy Holm brings depth to Archie, a war hero harboring secrets of his own.

Brooklyn 45 excels in its exploration of rich themes, offering a powerful meditation on grief, trauma, and the unfinished business of war. The film delves deep into the moral ambiguity of wartime actions, questioning the ethics of violence even when committed in the name of justice. As the characters confront their past deeds, the audience is forced to grapple with the blurred lines between right and wrong in times of conflict.

The supernatural elements of the story serve as a metaphor for the character’s inner demons, with the séance unleashing not just otherworldly spirits but also the ghosts of innocence and idealism lost to the horrors of war. Geoghegan masterfully uses the genre conventions to explore how combat trauma manifests in peacetime, showing characters struggling to readjust to civilian life while haunted by their experiences.

While the pacing may be deliberate, particularly in the early scenes, this approach allows for rich character development and the establishment of a friendship bond that becomes crucial to the story’s emotional core. As the supernatural elements intensify, the film delivers genuine scares and jolts of terror, but its true horror lies in the psychological and emotional realms.