October is the month we celebrate horror films, and I’m here to oblige with some of my recommendations. Of course, we all know the usual suspects of October horror watch-lists - Halloween, Friday The 13th, Carrie, and the likes - but I’d like to call your attention to what I believe are underseen titles to enhance your film watching lineup this month.

As an autumn treat, here are ten underseen Spooky Season movies for you to check out this month. We’ve got demonically-possessed nuns, evil twins, mad slashers, Alicia Silverstone with fangs, and more! Pepper these titles into your October film watching plan to spice up your month of spooky movies.

SHOCKER (1989) 

Pretty much the sole purpose of putting this list together was the hope that more people would discover Wes Craven’s Shocker. Craven, a master of horror whose era-defining work spans three decades (Last House on the Left and The Hills Have Eyes in the 70s, A Nightmare on Elm Street in the 80s, and Scream in the 90s), truly broke the mold with this criminally underseen gem. Due to its genuinely Cuckoo Bananas second and third act developments (a cinematic three-course cheat meal if there ever was one), the less said the better, but here’s the setup: collegiate wide receiver Jonathan Parker experiences a disturbingly prophetic dream involving serial murderer/black magic practitioner Horace Pinker, leading the jock on an epic chase to confront the killer that includes foul-mouthed homicidal children, magic girlfriend necklaces, and Timothy Leary as a televangelist. Craven, who never shied away from giving his genre films a sturdy sociopolitical backbone, fulminates against capital punishment and idiot box hypnosis—but this isn’t a finger-wagging sermon, it’s a heavy metal rollercoaster; one that is not up to code, run by some whacked-out carny, and likely to fly off the rails at any moment. It’s admittedly scatterbrained, and even after several viewings I can’t say I’d pass a What Actually Happens pop quiz, but man, so much fun! Just put your hands in the air and enjoy the loopy, bumpy ride.

BLOOD RAGE (1987)

Set almost entirely around a Jacksonville apartment complex on Thanksgiving night, Blood Rage (aka Nightmare at Shadow Woods, aka Slasher) is an inspired, low-budget riff on the slasher formula. “Homicidal maniac breaks out of asylum” sounds like a pretty familiar hook for this genre, but what if (not a spoiler, don’t worry) the supposed lunatic was actually innocent and his fratty, Reaganite twin brother—who framed him for murder when they were kids—was the one going on a machete rampage? It’s a welcome twist on rote material. Beyond that narrative wrinkle—not to mention a dread-inducing synth score and some really fun gore effects—it’s the idiosyncrasies that elevate Blood Rage above others of its ilk. For example, you’re unlikely to find a killer who hacks through his victims with as much wacky irreverence as evil twin Terry (shot in ‘83, it precedes the quippy nature of Freddy Krueger). The Final Girl running away from said killer while holding a crying baby is another unique touch. And then there’s Louise Lasser’s unworldly performance as the twins’ mother. She doesn’t take the news of her son’s escape too well, and spends most of the movie in an unhinged spiral—eating cold leftovers on the floor, filling her wine glass to the brim, and screaming at the telephone operator. The focus on her deteriorating mental state is a digression lesser schlock wouldn’t even bother to address—but here it’s the crux of the movie, leading to a final confrontation layered with such heightened emotion that it verges on the operatic. Key takeaway? Stay the hell out of suburban Florida (or, to be on the safe side, all Florida). 

HELLO MARY LOU: PROM NIGHT II (1987)

What’s that? You’ve never seen the first one? Don’t sweat it, because the only thing this quasi-sequel has in common with the Jamie Lee Curtis-led disco-slasher is that they both take place at a (ostensibly American but very clearly Canadian) high school prom. Aside from that, Hello Mary Lou is a whole other beast—a surreal, completely bugnuts, supernatural set piece extravaganza firmly situated at the intersection of Elm Street and Carrie Boulevard. Here’s a teaser: it’s prom night 1957 and Mary Lou Maloney, the baddest bitch in school (she’s the type who goes to confession to brag), has just been elected prom queen when her jilted sweetheart burns her alive in a revenge prank gone wrong. Thirty years later, the bitch is back—her vengeful spirit unwittingly released by the chaste Hamilton High senior, Vicki. Then it gets trippy: teens sucked into chalkboards, a rocking horse come to life, and a scene of body horror beauty calling to mind the chestburster from Alien. Too bad there isn’t a decent transfer out there because these images deserve to be seen in high-def. 

MADHOUSE (1981) 

You’ll never look at rottweilers or power drills the same again. Or, I don’t know, maybe you will; this is all pretty ridiculous. It even ends with a quote by (of all people) George Bernard Shaw in a last-ditch effort to justify its incoherence. Tons of creepy atmosphere though, and for something clearly made as a cheapie it looks great. I’d recommend double-dipping with Happy Birthday to Me, another ‘81 giallo-adjacent slasher about repressed familial wounds which, coincidentally, also culminates with a macabre b-day party. 

VAMPS (2012) 

Here’s a palate cleanser after all the blood and guts: the long-awaited reunion of Clueless star Alicia Silverstone and writer/director Amy Heckerling for a BFF comedy about vampires (ok, still some blood). The former Cher Horowitz plays Goody, a 170-year-old vamp struggling to adjust to the increasingly alienating 21st century, and Krysten Ritter (Don't Trust the B---- in Apartment 23) plays her younger, more modernized undead bestie. Heckerling—known for her trend-setting teen comedies Clueless and Fast Times At Ridgemont High—wisely uses the immortal bloodsucker premise as a means to sort through her own anxieties about aging and the growing sense that she’s, at last, culturally out of sync. The butt of some of the boomer-brained jokes seem like soft targets (ever notice how these millennials are always texting?), but it’s really all of a piece with Heckerling’s bittersweet ruminations. And then there’s just-plain-silly gags like the girlies drinking blood from rats Capri Sun-style, or Silverstone thirstily sticking her elongated tongue up a cokehead’s nostril. 

EYES OF A STRANGER (1981) 

Brian De Palma was so impressed by Ken Wiederhorn’s direction that he initially handpicked him to handle his pet project Body Double. That should give you an idea of the craftsmanship on display in this Hitchcockian formal exercise capitalizing on the post-Friday slasher boom. A serial killer, dubbed “The Miami Strangler” by local news (what did I tell you about staying out of Florida?), is terrorizing young women—mocking his soon-to-be victims with obscene phone calls prior to each deadly attack. Outspoken TV reporter Jane suspects her high-rise apartment neighbor of being the culprit, and a cat-and-mouse game ensues. Jennifer Jason Leigh (in her film debut) co-stars as the heroine’s deaf-blind sister who plays a key role in the ingeniously suspenseful, albeit troubling, climax. Highly recommended to anyone who can appreciate horror (this is technically more of a thriller but we’re splitting hairs) that’s as mean and disreputable (perhaps irredeemably so) as it is skillfully constructed. 

AGNES (2021)

Horror fans soyfaced hard over the narrative curveballs thrown in Barbarian and Malignant, but those recent hype jobs have nothing on the spin rate of this offbeat nunsploitation riff. Using the all-too-familiar exorcism premise as a springboard for a genuine contemplation of faith, indie filmmaker Mickey Reece (a name to keep an eye on) concocts one of the freshest, most daring horror films of recent memory. (And really puts a lot of the trendy “elevated horror” to shame). Bound to piss off countless Hulu subscribers just looking for cheap scares on a Friday night; anyone looking for something more idiosyncratic will be rewarded. 

Need I say more? Well, I won’t here, but for additional perspective on this one, you can check out my colleague’s review of the film from when it screened at Fantasia .

BERBERIAN SOUND STUDIO (2012)

Here’s a useful tip: if you can, watch with good headphones or a high-quality sound system. Thank me later. 

DEATHDREAM (1974)

"We lost a lot of good boys in that war, and we kept some we should’ve lost.” It begins with the death of a young soldier, Andy, shot in the jungles of Southeast Asia. Back stateside, his all-American mom, dad, and sis receive the dreaded telegram, but later that very night, mysteriously, Andy returns “alive”—not quite a vampire, not quite a zombie, an unfeeling kill machine nonetheless. One of the earliest films to engage directly with Vietnam and the generation of young men it destroyed, the real horror of Deathdream (also known as Dead of Night) lies in revealing the vitreous fragility of the nuclear family once the war inevitably boomeranged back home. Directed by underrated journeyman Bob Clark (his slashterpiece Black Christmas came out the same year) and anchored by a couple nerve-striking performances by John Marley and Lynn Carlin as the shell-shocked parents, this one won’t just scare you, it’ll break your heart. (Apropos of nothing, this was also filmed in Florida.) 

BEYOND THE DARKNESS (1979) 

I saved the yuckiest for last. (Consider this either a reward for making it through my list or a punishment, depending on where you fall on the sleazoid spectrum.) The vision of Italian exploitation maestro Joe D’Amato, Buio Omega (mainly known as Beyond The Darkness to English-speaking audiences) is a high-water mark for shower-inducing horror. It’s about a young, rather good-looking taxidermist coping with the death of his lover in the unhealthiest way possible: by digging her up and doing, well, taxidermy things to her corpse; anyone getting in the way of his mourning is violently disposed of with the help of his equally twisted, Norma Bates-lookalike housekeeper/wet nurse. Gross, right? A must-see for aspiring exploitationists and gorehounds, and a big “no thank you” for everyone else. But empty provocation it is not. Underneath all the nail-ripping violence, gratuitous nudity, and general unpleasantness (never has poor table manners felt so heinous) is a deeply sad portrait of grief and loneliness; of people driven mad by their unattainable desires. There’s even a smidge of class critique—the grieving boyfriend is an heir, for example, suggesting the dehumanizing effects of generational wealth. Plus, it looks absolutely gorgeous—D’Amato, working as his own DP, shoots everything in a detached soft-focus—and the excellent Goblin score features ominous, occasionally grooving synths, dirge-like guitar riffs, and a beautifully melancholic piano motif. Now, hit the showers.