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Kristee Summerford
Mike Flanagan had already built a reputation as a rock-steady horror filmmaker by 2016, but the sense of "holy crap, this guy can do anything" became set in stone once he took on a prequel to a critically-derided movie about an evil ouija board and made one of the scariest movies of the last decade. Ouija: Origin of Evil takes us to the 1970s, where fake psychic Alice Zander (Elizabeth Reaser) and her two daughters, Lina (Annalise Basso) and Doris (Lulu Wilson), perform seances for paying customers in the wake of Alice's husband dying. Doris, the youngest, spices up the act with the introduction of a ouija board, but the cursed item makes things all too real when it not only sends a dark spirit into the girl's body but exposes the deep-seated evil ingrained in the Zander's house. There is, to be very clear, absolutely no reason for Ouija: Origin of Evil to be good at all, so it's a downright shock that it's this horrifying and effective. And, because it's Flanagan we're talking about here, there's also a potent dramatic heart beating underneath all those bumps in the night. --Vinnie Mancuso
It's a common trope: a little kid has a crush on their sexy teenage babysitter. But Netflix's original flick The Babysitter turns that on its head, by making the hot babysitter also happen to be part of a Satanic cult. The cult - who has brought their ceremony into young Cole's house - will stop at nothing to prevent Cole from spreading their secret. It's not really a "scary" horror film; it's more goofy, super gory, and a kind of throwback to the campy horror of the 1980s. - Alyse Wax
The first installment of Netflix's Fear Street trilogy of films is an absolute blast from start to finish. Very much drawing influence from Scream, this R-rated slasher takes place in the town of Shadyville, where people going back decades have a habit of going on violent killing sprees. Rumors swirl that it's all to do with a witch's curse from the 1600s (which is covered in the third movie), and in this 1994-set film a group of teenagers find themselves the target of a bevy of masked killers as the try to figure out what's going on and how to survive it. At the center of the story is a queer romance that sets this apart from many other slashers of its ilk, and there's enough comedic relief to keep this from being bogged down as a horror film of the self-serious type. Again the Scream comparisons are apt, so if you're in for a spooky good time that also sets up a mythology that is concluded in the next two Fear Street movies, give Fear Street Part One: 1994 a whirl. - Adam Chitwood
It's tempting to loop all of the Fear Street films into one entry because they're such a satisfying (you might even say limited series-like) whole, but they're also so stylistically distinct and uniquely effective, they're worth singling out on their own. As for the second installment, 1978 takes audiences back to another Shadyside massacre, this time inspired by the summer camp horror trend of the 70s and 80s. Anchored around the story of two estranged sisters finding their way back to each other despite their differences, 1978 unleashes the Nightwing killer scene in the first film while investigating the story behind how he became a cursed mass murderer and deepening the established mythology and character work in the process.
I wouldn't recommend watching them out of order on your first watch but if you're looking to head back into fear Street and don't have time to watch the whole trilogy, 1978 is easily the most self-contained of all three, but good luck not immediately hitting play on the next one. - Haleigh Foutch
The final film in the trilogy, Fear Street Part Three: 1666 brings it all together by traveling to the origins of the curse, so if you're looking for a bit of period horror with a big action payoff, this is your best bet. It's stunning how writer-director Leigh Janiak created a distinct language for each installment, not just cinematically, but in the horror traditions she employs. In keeping, 1666 is the darkest of the three, delving into the rotted core of society behind the Shadyside curse. But Janiak keeps a tight tonal command, never fully abandoning the fun spirit that makes her trilogy such a treat.
Everyone loves watching scary movies in October, of course. But true fright fans know no calendar. For real aficionados of the dark cinematic arts, any month, any day is a good time for horror, and Netflix is a proverbial graveyard full of terrifying delights waiting to be streamed.
A key film in the new wave of smash-hit mainstream horror (see also Sinister, The Conjuring), Insidious is the one with the creepy kid, the astral plane and the demon hiding behind the Big Red Door. Watch it alone, and completely scare your own pants off.
In a rare example of Hollywood sci-fi-horror thoughtfulness, Annihilation has grand concepts in mind, ideas about self-destruction and rebirth. The film follows cellular biologist Lena (Portman) as she ventures to The Shimmer, an anomalous electromagnetic field, to discover the truth about what happened to her husband Kane (Isaac), who visited The Shimmer and returned in poor health and his memory missing. Spooky stuff.
In this devilish subversion of the typical body-swap comedy, Vince Vaughn is an ageing serial killer who wishes upon a cursed dagger and ends up trading consciousness with a bullied teenage girl (Kathryn Newton). Genius, right? Okay, so that premise could easily flop. But director Christopher Landon (Happy Death Day) finds the ideal balance between knowing humour and serious gore. The only way to improve it would be to make Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan the leads.
Please note: This list pertains to U.S. Netflix subscribers. Some titles may not currently be available on international platforms. This article is frequently amended to remove films no longer on Netflix and to include more horror movies that are now available on the service.
In the mood for a 2020s Polish slasher created by lovers of 80s American horror trends? Bartosz M. Kowalski uses the campground massacre template to execute a contemporary slasher that feels as throwback as rereleases of Crystal Pepsi. It's a familiar brand of campers meeting gruesome fates one by one with a massive emphasis on practical effects, the goriest and most obscene of which become an overall saving grace. Kowalski aims to prove that Polish slashers can hack 'em up with the best of them, even if there's not much else to praise with the same enthusiasm. If you want blood, you've got it by the truckload.
Netflix's original horror game rose to another level with The Ritual, David Bruckner's directorial debut outside segments in The Signal, V/H/S, and Southbound. Four friends take a northern Swedish hiking trip in memory of their deceased fifth, only to become victims of a woodland nightmare. Visions begin by layering psychological horror as the characters confront fears or guilt, then cultism adds communal dread, and lastly, Bruckner delivers on creature-feature goods. One source of terror feeds into the next and provokes future traumas, all interconnected as Bruckner weaves in and out of multiple horror subgenres with ease. There's so much to enjoy as Swedish forestation becomes an isolated outdoor prison, and then all hell breaks loose. Bruckner flaunts his filmmaking chops in a significant way.
Director Gareth Evans did not come to play with the gorgeous and gory Apostle. While the Netflix original is several years old at this point, it still feels like this one never got the attention it quite deserved. Before the era where Netflix original films were super prevalent, Apostle follows Thomas Richardson (played by none other than Dan Stephens) as he seeks out to rescue his sister from a strange, secluded cult.
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