Editorials
The Best Horror Movies of All Time – The 1970s
Best Horror Movies of All Time – 1970s / 1980s / 1990s / 2000s / 2010s
One of the most defining decades in horror was the 1970s. Gone was the free-loving spirit of the 1960s and instead it was replaced with the grim pessimism that set in thanks to the Vietnam War. Gritty, dark, and horrific violence permeated the films that also became the breeding ground for prolific voices that would forever alter the horror genre for the better.
While it’s typical for films to reflect the social, political, and economic events of their time, the 1970s honed in on the fears of childbirth, the sexual revolution, and the introduction of oral contraceptives. It took advantage of the loosening of censorship laws, allowing for the boundaries to be pushed far greater than ever before. What the 1970s lacked in remakes it made up for in its basing much of its horror on popular horror novels. And some of the most well-regarded horror spawned from this decade.
Here are the decade’s best of the best.
A Bay of Blood (1971)
Also known as Twitch of the Death Nerve, among many other alternate titles, Mario Bava’s most violent film may not be as widely known or as financially successful as the other films on this list. But it is extremely vital to the slasher sub-genre in terms of influence and how we’ve come to know slasher films today, starting with Friday the 13th in particular. There’s a lot that Friday the 13th seems to owe to this film; the killer’s POV, a cast of teens who like sex and drinking, and even death scenes like the pair of lovers who get skewered together. Though John Carpenter may have famously disregarded Friday the 13th as a cheap money grab based on Halloween, the truth is that Sean S. Cunningham owes a lot more to Bava’s A Bay of Blood.
The Last House on the Left (1972)
Talk about a stunning debut by now household name, Wes Craven. Inspired by The Virgin Springs, the quiet director shocked even producer Sean S. Cunningham (Friday the 13th) with the level of realistic violence Craven captured on camera. Perhaps that’s because he had injected it with much more sex and graphic violence than made the final cut, as Craven and Cunningham ultimately decided to soften it down a bit to make it just a tad more commercial. If you haven’t guessed by now, this seminal shocker launched the careers of Craven and Cunningham, who went on to become extremely important to horror in the ‘80s. It’s also a film that took a while to catch on with critics, who widely hated it upon release except for the usually hard to please Roger Ebert.
The Exorcist (1973)
Based on William Peter Blatty’s 1971 novel, the author had a surprising amount of input for the film adaptation. When notable directors like Stanley Kubrick rejected Warner Bros’ offers to helm the adaptation, it was Blatty who insisted on William Friedkin for his gritty, documentary-style work. It’s that precise style, and Friedkin’s manipulative handling of his actors, that made The Exorcist so scary. The shocking imagery terrified audiences, some to the point of passing out, and was the first film to scare up $230,000 at the box office. It’s also one of the few horror films that are widely embraced by even non-horror fans, impressing the Academy enough to nominate the film for 10 Academy Awards. Initially released in theaters on December 26, 1973, this is one holiday gift audiences didn’t see coming.
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)
One of the best and most influential films in horror history, Tobe Hooper’s horror film continued the decade’s trend in guerilla filmmaking. Considered extremely controversial and shocking upon release, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre also birthed the first slasher icon in Leatherface, long before the arrival of Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, or Jason Voorhees. While the newer wave of horror directors like Alexandre Aja and Rob Zombie have cited this film as a major influence, it’s also directly responsible for influencing important films of its own decade- notably Ridley Scott’s Alien.
Jaws (1975)
Much has already been said about Steven Spielberg’s first directorial hit; that the notorious animatronic shark malfunctions led to Spielberg utilizing it in a way that became far scarier, that composer John Williams’ minimalistic theme left a lasting imprint that is still recognizable today, or that it simply instilled a tremendous fear of going into the water. Based on Peter Benchley’s novel of the same name, Jaws is not only responsible for really kicking Spielberg’s burgeoning career into overdrive, but it also established the modern day summer blockbuster. While the film itself went over budget during production, Universal spent a whopping $2 million in advertising costs, with an unprecedented $700,000 of that towards national television spots, creating a ton of hype for the film prior to release. Jaws became such a box office hit that it became the prototype for modern blockbuster advertising. There’s no denying just how great the actual movie is, but thanks to Universal’s marking strategy, it also changed horror history.
Shivers (1975)
The film that began David Cronenberg’s signature body horror was not only notable for being the director’s first feature film but also for royally pissing off critics and the Parliament of Canada over its overtly violent sexual nature. The plot sees residents of a luxury high-rise falling prey to a slug-like parasite that turns its victims into sex-crazed, murderous maniacs that spread their infection like a venereal disease. Cronenberg partially funded the film through the Canadian Film Development Corporation, and a high profile critical attack on the film made it difficult for the director to obtain funding on future projects. It even reportedly got him kicked out of his Toronto apartment. Yet, despite the controversy, the movie was a financial success in comparison to its meager budget. Truthfully, both of Cronenberg’s subsequent body horror films in the ‘70s, Rabid and The Brood, fared better, but it’s this underrated classic that declared Cronenberg a horror auteur to be reckoned with and celebrated.
Carrie (1976)
Based on Stephen King’s 1974 novel, Brian De Palma’s masterpiece not only marks this film as the first Stephen King big-screen adaptation, but also one of the few horror films to receive Academy Award nominations. Well received by critics and audiences alike, Carrie cast a long lasting stamp on the horrors of high school. King has praised De Palma’s style in translating his story into becoming something far greater than what was on the page. Nancy Allen and John Travolta created memorably vicious villains, but funnily enough, Allen claims she thought they were playing the comic relief. It wasn’t until she saw the final cut that she realized they were the villains.
House (1977)
If you’ve ever seen this wacky, acid trip of a movie, it may seem like an odd fit among the horror giants on this list. Of course, that’s precisely why House is one of the best in horror of the 1970s. Toho Studios wanted a sort of Japanese Jaws when they enlisted Nobuhiko Obayashi. Instead, they got a psychedelic horror comedy that works as a precursor to the work of Sam Raimi and Peter Jackson. With dancing skeletons, severed fingers playing the piano, and decapitated heads biting butts, the absurdist imagery may have you questioning if someone slipped something into your drink while watching this movie. For all of its strangeness, there’s also a surprisingly tragic depth beneath the surface, with Obayashi delving into the culture pre and post-atomic bomb. Toho may not have gotten the Jaws sized hit they wanted, but House did become a success.
Suspiria (1977)
Perhaps the best known and most widely regarded giallo of all time, Dario Argento’s beloved classic is not only hyper-violent but hyper-stylistic with its stunning vivid coloring. Playing like a fevered dream against the rock score of Goblin, Suspiria consistently makes it on lists of best films ever made and holds close critical regard, though that wasn’t always the case. A large part of the film’s success is the Technicolor, and Argento has stated he was inspired by the color in Walt Disney’s Snow White. While a remake is currently on the way, the original classic is still selling out theaters today with its recently discovered 35mm print and a 4k restoration.
Dawn of the Dead (1978)
While keeping in trend with his knack for social commentary, this time taking on American consumerism, George A. Romero upped the ante on this important sequel in every way. Not only is it much bigger in scale, but it’s also a proper introduction to the masterful effects work of Tom Savini, who’d previously worked with the director on vampire flick Martin. What’s perhaps lesser known, though, is that giallo master Dario Argento was eager to help Romero get his sequel funded, and also managed to earn editing rights to the foreign release. This gave Dawn of the Dead multiple versions for fans to track down. Argento’s cut is bleaker and replaces the score with a soundtrack by Goblin.
Halloween (1978)
John Carpenter’s first horror hit is so synonymous with the genre that there’s not much left to say. This unofficial sequel to Black Christmas spawned the birth of not only horror icon Michael Myers, but the final girl trope as well in Jamie Lee Curtis’ Laurie Strode. Carpenter’s direction that sets Myers up as an uncanny Boogeyman and his famous score solidified Halloween as a requisite horror classic. It was one of many that influenced the modern slasher sub-genre, and launched one of horror’s longest lasting franchises.
Phantasm (1979)
Written, produced, and directed by Don Coscarelli, this DIY horror film is the very definition of a labor of love. Wholly unique to anything before and after, Phantasm defies categorization. Equal parts horror and sci-fi, and short on definitive answers, the story’s concept came to Coscarelli in a dream. Fitting, as the overall aesthetic feels like one fevered dream. With killer chrome orbs, the iconic Tall Man, and one sweet 1971 Plymouth Barracuda, Phantasm may not have won over critics upon release but it did win over an extremely loyal fan base that still consistently begs Coscarelli for more, decades later.
Alien (1979)
The horror classic that launched an entire franchise and inspired tons of copycats almost didn’t come to be at all. Or rather, it wouldn’t have existed in its current, near perfect state. Screenwriters Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett were on the verge of closing a deal with low budget cult film producer Roger Corman before realizing they might get a better offer elsewhere. This proved correct when they sold it to 20th Century Fox. Enter Ridley Scott, whom O’Bannon then introduced to H.R. Giger, and this unnerving haunted house thriller in space became horror history.
Of all the films in the New French Extremity movement, Baise-moi may be the most shocking.
From its aggressive English language title Rape Me to several scenes of unsimulated sex, Virginie Despentes and Coralie Trinh Thi’s 2000 film may not drip with the subgenre’s trademark blood and gore, but the story’s overwhelming nihilism feels like a middle finger to the patriarchal establishment.
Inspired by Despentes’s 1993 novel of the same name, Baise-moi stars adult film actresses Raffaëla Anderson and Karen Bach as Bonnie and Clyde-style criminals who rampage through France leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. But this fierce story has a tender core. When we peel back the layers of explicit sex and ostensibly senseless violence, we find the tragic tale of two young women desperate to reclaim their power in a world built on male entitlement.
After a brief glimpse at our female criminals, Baise-moi opens in a local dive bar. A boorish man plays pool with his friends while callously dismissing his girlfriend’s concerns. She hasn’t seen him in nearly a week and simply wants to know if he plans to come home. But he angrily brushes her aside, insisting that he doesn’t have to answer for his selfishness. We will never see this couple again, but their one-sided dispute reflects a world in which women must beg for attention from men who see them as less than human.
Throughout this uncomfortable argument, Nadine (Bach) has been drinking at the bar while men discuss her fondness for random sex. At home, she openly masturbates in the living room, refusing to be shamed by her nagging roommate. We learn that Nadine is a sex worker and follow her to a nearby hotel. Refusing to kiss her john on the lips, she dispassionately performs oral sex then watches TV while he fails to give her an orgasm. Despentes and Trinh Thi play with camera angles to show the extent of Nadine’s disinterest. More concerned with sausage being sliced on an infomercial, she has emotionally disconnected from her own body.
We meet Manu (Anderson), an occasional porn actress, under much more traumatic circumstances. While chatting on a park bench, she and a friend are hauled into a dirty warehouse then savagely assaulted by three strange men. We watch as Manu’s friend (played by adult film star Lisa Marshall) is repeatedly punched in the face while her clothes are ripped off followed by an extreme close-up of actual penetration. It’s a disturbing sequence that rivals New French Extremity’s most infamous texts. But this is the reality of sexual assault and Despentes and Trinh Thi refuse to shield the audience from what we are watching.
Though her friend screams and tries to escape, Manu stares daggers at her attackers while stoically obeying their commands. Her dissociation repels the angry man and he walks away, complaining about “fucking a zombie.” Manu will later explain this emotional detachment to her traumatized friend, saying, “If you park in the projects, you empty your car ‘cause someone’s gonna break in. I leave nothing precious in my cunt for those jerks.” Though they’ve not yet met, both Nadine and Manu have become so accustomed to being used for sex that they see no value in themselves. Manu assures her sobbing friend that,”It’s just a bit of cock. We’re just girls. It’ll be ok now.” then continues on with the rest of her day. While disturbing in and of itself, her response hints at prior trauma and the long-term pain of navigating a world filled with predatory men.
Despentes and Trinh Thi will spend the rest of the film subverting the classic rape-revenge structure. We never again see Manu’s attackers again and she is not driven by a newfound hatred of men. But her rage spills out wherever she goes, directed at anyone who dismisses her humanity. Manu’s brother responds with indignation and demands the rapist’s identities, seeming more upset about an insult to his family name than what his sister actually needs. When he implies that she somehow welcomed the assault, Manu shoots him in the head, steals his money, and walks out the door. Nadine finds herself in a similar position after strangling her conservative roommate to death. In parallel scenes we watch both women reach their breaking points and use murder to flee lives of shameful subservience.
Manu and Nadine cross paths in an empty subway station after the last train has left for the night. With nowhere else to go, they cut a violent path across France, careening towards Nadine’s vague errand. Their first victim is a well-dressed woman murdered for her ATM card. Though Nadine confesses sadness in the aftermath of the crime, she eventually admits, “now I feel really great. So great I almost feel like doing it again.” We remember Manu’s final words to her brother — “Bastards like you always have to hit something to feel alive” — and watch these newly liberated women succumb to the same temptation. Their crime spree seems driven by a need to reclaim power by dominating anyone who gets in their way.
Despite the carnage they leave behind, Manu and Nadine do not kill indiscriminately. Shortly after hitting the road, they pick up two strangers at a bar and have sex on their respective hotel beds. Though they do not physically touch each other, the scene ripples with intimacy as they gaze at each other instead of their men. In a traditional rape-revenge film, Manu would kill these unsuspecting paramours, punishing them for another man’s crimes. But she seems content with indulging in her own physical pleasure and the connection she establishes with Nadine. Both women have found a kindred spirit who will not judge them for asserting their own messy independence.
This is not to say that men are safe around these two unpredictable outlaws. Manu shoots a man in the street when he catcalls Nadine and they ambush and murder a condescending gun dealer. When a prospective john balks at their unapologetic promiscuity and insists on wearing a condom, Manu brands herself “the fucking condom dickhead killer” while mocking the man for his self-righteousness. She degrades and sexually humiliates him before using her high heels to stomp in his face.
Nadine has a similar response to another victim who tries to psychoanalyze her criminality. While opening his safe at gunpoint, the man flirts by insisting her crimes have been caused by a traumatic past only he can understand. Rather than fall for this faux empathy, Manu laughs in his face while Nadine shoots him to death on the living room floor. While certainly asserting their feminine strength, they do not lash out at just any man, but save their rage for male authority figures who condemn their feminist rebellion.
Though they rage against the outside world, Manu and Nadine have no grand illusions of victory and expect to die in the violence they’ve sparked. On a peaceful stroll, the outlaws discuss different methods of suicide, rejecting self-immolation as too pretentious. After tossing around options, they agree to do a bungee jump without the cord, though Nadine admits that she may need help stepping off the edge. To maintain the appearance of control, Manu suggests leaving a banner behind to frame their deaths as a courageous act rather than submission to the establishment. They will not let anyone rewrite their story and insist on going out with their heads held high.
It’s only through boredom that we uncover the hopeless heart of their true motivations. Blowing stolen cash on a fancy hotel, Nadine and Manu drink the day away while staring at the ocean, surprised that they have not yet been caught. With their faces on the cover of newspapers, they have achieved some notoriety, but failed to rock the system they despise. Simply described as two women, “one taller than the other,” their bombastic rebellion now feels more like screaming into the void. They may have found joy in rejecting rigid gender norms, indulging in random sex, and gleefully dominating toxic men, but the patriarchal world continues to turn. In this quiet moment, Manu and Nadine realize that they will not be remembered as vigilante heroes, but two waves crashing against an endless sea of male authority.
As we grow more attached to the ferocious couple, Despentes and Trinh Thi remind us of the women’s villainy, directly resisting an anti-hero narrative. Dressed to the nines, Nadine and Manu storm a swinger’s club where women openly service men. In another film, they would be feminist avengers, shooting violent johns while setting helpless women free. But Manu and Nadine kill everyone they see, leaving no one alive in the establishment. As a climax to this massacre, they force the bartender to strip and kneel on all fours before penetrating him with a loaded gun. It’s a horrific act of sexual abuse that mirror’s Manu’s own ordeal. We’re reminded that while the women’s anger may be righteous, their actions are not. Perhaps this is a showy escalation designed to force police intervention. Or has Manu become the very thing that once destroyed her life: a bastard who hurts others to feel alive?
This crime spree ends just as erratically as it began when Manu is shot while stopping for gas. Nadine burns her corpse beside a frozen lake, ensuring that no one can claim power over what little autonomy her body still holds. Dressed in a man’s suit, the grieving woman prepares to join her friend in death and holds a gun to her head. But she seems incapable of pulling the trigger. While remembering their short but violently joyful time together, we hear a gunshot and see Nadine fall to the ground. Seconds later she opens her eyes to find herself surrounded by police. The spell of her connection with Manu has been broken and the world has finally come crashing in.
We’re left to wonder what their rampage was for. They’ve failed to resist a dehumanizing social structure and will now be simply tossed aside. But the English translation casts an uncomfortable shadow over their motivations. Taken as a command, the worlds “rape me” seem to imply consent that is antithetical to sexual assault. It’s an unsettling turn of phrase that harkens back to a question Manu’s friend asked in the wake of her attack: “how could you let this happen to you?” Though it reflects the story’s aggressive tone, this translated title seems to blame the women for their destructive actions rather than interrogate the system they’ve tried to resist.
But there is an alternate interpretation, one that reflects the story’s tender core. A more accurate Enlgish translation would read “fuck me” or “kiss me,” perhaps nodding to sex positivity or the gentle kiss Nadine leaves with Manu before lighting her makeshift funeral pyre. These alternative titles seem to honor the women’s ferocious journey of self-discovery and empowerment.
Though flawed, villainous, and ultimately broken on a patriarchal wheel, Nadine and Manu have found a way to reclaim something precious in their unapologetic strength and authenticity.
Baise-moi is currently available to stream on Shudder.
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