Editorials
The Horror Out of Space: How “Star Trek: The Original Series” Was Also an Influential Horror Show
When “Star Trek” premiered in September of 1966, it instantly revolutionized science-fiction television. Begun by creator Gene Roddenberry as a sci-fi riff on popular shows at the time like “Wagon Train,” the series was the first non-anthology genre program aimed at adults, and quickly grew a following that went from cult status to full-blown phenomenon.
The show’s rise in popularity saw fans first saving it from cancellation and then being instrumental in Paramount choosing to continue the franchise as a motion picture series in 1979. The “Trek” brand soon came to be known not just for its core characters, but for its themes of optimism, scientific and technological progress, and social harmony, with the various crews of the starship Enterprise seeking out “new life and new civilizations” with the aims of study and education rather than conquest. Arriving at this pioneering approach wasn’t easy, as “Trek” famously had not one but two pilot episodes scripted and shot; they had different tones and cast members, yet both were unmistakably sci-fi, and the second pilot, “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” better established the show as being aimed at emulating pulp genre fiction of the time, with an emphasis on adventure as the TV executives insisted.
However, neither of those pilots were aired on September 8, 1966, the night “Star Trek” premiered on NBC. That episode was instead “The Man Trap,” a story about the Enterprise crew encountering a shapeshifting alien that murders its victims by depleting their bodies of salt. The more humanitarian aspects of the show could already be seen—Captain Kirk (William Shatner) mourns the fact that the crew must eliminate the creature, who only kills to survive—but the fact remains that the episode is a prime example of ‘50s and ‘60s era sci-fi creature feature horror. The episode was written by George Clayton Johnson, who had a highly successful TV career writing for Rod Serling’s “The Twilight Zone” just a few years earlier, and was still clearly in that mode when “Star Trek” came calling. With this unusual yet auspicious premiere episode, placing first in the ratings in its timeslot, “Star Trek” began a run that would see it intersect with and utilize horror more often than not, proving that the series could explore the darker corners of the universe as well as the more enlightened ones.
“Where No Man Has Gone Before”
In a way, this was by design, as Roddenberry and his story editors, John D.F. Black and Dorothy Fontana, sought to hire as many sci-fi, horror, and genre writers as they could to work on the initial seasons of the show, in the hopes that finding people already familiar with genre (since the show’s concept was so new) would be an easy transition. “Where No Man Has Gone Before” was written by Samuel Peeples, a veteran of many Western novels and TV shows, and Peeples’ concept of a crew member being taken over by a mysterious Godlike psychic power at the edge of the galaxy is not only Lovecraftian in its overtones, but presages the group of cinematic psychic horror thrillers like The Power (1968), The Fury (1978) and Scanners (1981).
In addition to Johnson and Peeples, other established genre writers with a background in horror or genre writing were hired such as Richard Matheson, Harlan Ellison, Art Wallace, and Robert Bloch. Bloch, who had gained fame as the writer of the novel “Psycho” which Alfred Hitchcock adapted into a movie, and who would soon go on to be involved with several Amicus horror portmanteau films, wrote a trio of episodes for “Star Trek.” These episodes openly played with horror tropes, dealing with a mad scientist creating android duplicates (“What Are Little Girls Made Of?”), a Hammer/Universal horror pastiche set inside a “haunted” castle (“Catspaw”) and a story about Scotty (James Doohan) being framed for murder by the immortal disembodied spirit of one Jack the Ripper (“Wolf in the Fold”). With these writers and their episodes, “Star Trek” more than established its horror bonafides.
“Catspaw”
Some of the most fascinating (no pun intended) episodes of the show are the ones that, even more than being horror-adjacent, engage most directly with the genre. In addition to the Bloch triptych, the show dealt with an apocalyptic invasion of parasites (“Operation—Annihilate!”), a HAL 9000-esque rogue A.I. (“The Ultimate Computer”), alien-possessed super powered kids (“And the Children Shall Lead”) and lethal extraterrestrial creatures (“Devil in the Dark”) in ways that closely resemble the horror films of the time period. The episode “The Lights of Zetar,” despite its science-fiction premise, is for all intents and purposes a demon possession story. In the episode (co-written by Lamb Chop creator Shari Lewis, no less), a crewmember (Jan Shutan) is affected by a mysterious storm the Enterprise travels through, after which it is revealed that her body has been taken over by the non-corporeal remains of a dying alien race, who intend to use her to live on. The depiction of this by Shutan and director Herb Kenwith, with the actress making eerie expressions while Kenwith manipulates her voice to cause the character to make unnatural, sickly noises, is genuinely unsettling. Swap the sci-fi backstory for a religious mythology, and you have any one of the demon possession movies made in the 1970s, including The Exorcist (1973).
The episode can be seen as just one of the series’ many influences on genre filmmaking to come—even the celebrated “The Trouble With Tribbles” episode, which is very clearly a comedy, anticipates Joe Dante’s film about fuzzy little creatures overwhelming an unsuspecting group of people, Gremlins (1984), several decades in advance.
“The Trouble With Tribbles”
After three seasons, “Star Trek” was cancelled, and wouldn’t be revived for a decade, this time as a big-budget motion picture franchise. In the intervening years Roddenberry, as well as the legion of fans that the show gained, saw the franchise as less pulp genre adventure and more as a heady, positivity-based universe that became more interested in the exploration of various alien cultures than too many weird sci-fi/horror baddies. Still, there were vestiges of the original series’ penchant for horror to be found in the feature films; Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979) was directed by Robert Wise, who brought an eerie approach reminiscent of his work in The Haunting (1963) to some scenes of V’Ger invading the Enterprise, and anyone who’s seen Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) is surely traumatized by the ear-invading Ceti eels.
The spin-off/sequel shows dipped their toes into the horror world on occasion, with the techno-terror of the Borg being a particular highlight. Yet the franchise never delved further into classic horror than those handful of episodes of its original series, and while for us horror fans that’s a disappointment, we can hope that the continuing popularity of “Trek” might hold some surprises for the future—“Spock Vs. Dracula,” anyone?
Besides, at least one “Star Trek” character continues to inspire fear to this day in his own fashion: we all know where the filmmakers of Halloween found Michael Myers’ mask, after all.
“The Devil in the Dark”
We’re now officially in the back half of 2026 now that July is here, but what a year it’s been for horror so far. The sequels and reboots are still holding strong at the box office with films like Scream 7 and Scary Movie, but it’s also been a year where new voices are shattering records in unexpected ways.
Markiplier eschewed conventional production and distribution channels with his feature adaptation of Iron Lung, for example. We’re also still in the midst of Backrooms and Obsession-mania, with the former back in theaters with bonus footage and the latter extending its box office reign. Liminal horror has exploded, and low-budget indie horror is seeing just as much, and sometimes even more, success as big studio-backed fare.
All of which to say that 2026 has been a hell of a year so far for the genre, and it’s only getting warmed up. Still on the way are Evil Dead Burn, Insidious: Out of the Further, Resident Evil, Clayface, Whalefall, and Werwulf, just to name a few.
Also catch up with the Best Horror Books and Best Horror Games of the year so far.
Here are the ten best horror movies of the year (so far).
10) Chime
Horror master Kiyoshi Kurosawa is back with one of his most haunting yet, though one that’d likely be higher on this list if it were more accessible. The 45-minute feature was initially produced and distributed as an NFT before receiving a theatrical run earlier this year, with no plans to distribute digitally or on home media. It spins a somewhat cryptic tale, introducing a culinary teacher, Takuji Matsuoka (Mutsuo Yoshioka, Never After Dark), whose classroom becomes disrupted by a strange sound that leads to violence. It’s a quiet but haunting unraveling, one that leaves no aspect of Matsuoka’s life untouched, in true Kiyoshi Kurosawa style. That it defies any easy explanation also ensures Chime embeds itself under your skin.
9) Send Help
Sam Raimi’s splatstick return to form is a delightfully deranged two-hander that doubles as infectious catharsis for anyone who’s ever had a bad boss. Rachel McAdams (Doctor Strange) and Dylan O’Brien (The Maze Runner) face off when their characters are shipwrecked on an island, prompting a bid for survival in more ways than one. While O’Brien often matches her, It’s McAdams who shines as she deftly handles everything that Raimi, working from a script by Damian Shannon & Mark Swift (Freddy vs. Jason), throws at her. Send Help is full of vibrant personality, packed with all of Raimi’s signatures, making for one of the most entertaining films of the year.
8) Mārama
New Zealand filmmaker Taratoa Stappard’s gothic tale begins in familiar fashion, with Mary Stevens (Ariāna Osborne) arriving in Yorkshire upon invitation to learn more about her parents, only to find the remote manor haunted. Just when Stappard’s period horror story feels doomed to succumb to familiar gothic trappings and jump scares, though, its true horror emerges. The more Mary uncovers about her heritage and her Māori culture, the clearer it becomes that this grim home is built on violence and exploitation. Stappard’s vision comes into its own when it leaves behind its gothic influences and embraces its Māori identity; few scenes are as powerful as when Osborne’s Mary performs a haka in response to her vile oppressors, heralding in a righteous bloodbath.
7) Touch Me
Writer/Director Addison Heimann draws from retro Japanese horror, exploitation cinema, and perhaps even hentai for his campy, psychosexual sophomore feature. A toxic friendship plagued by trauma, codependency, and addiction gets tested to the extreme when Brian (Lou Taylor Pucci), a hip-hop-loving, tracksuit-sporting alien, gets between them. Olivia Taylor Dudley and Jordan Gavaris have an easy rapport and play off each other well as directionless, depressed Millennial besties prone to ignoring their problems until they become insurmountable. But it’s Pucci’s inspired, childlike take on the chicken nugget-loving extraterrestrial with tentacled secrets of his own that steals the show. Heimann has a lot on his mind with his sophomore feature and neatly condenses it all into a quirky, eccentric psychosexual camp odyssey that leans heavily into humor.
6) Backrooms
Director Kane Parsons translates the vast liminal labyrinth of his web series to the big screen in his feature debut, one that instills existential dread with its atmospheric horror and narrative. The ‘ 90s-set horror movie introduces a protagonist with a serious chip on his shoulder over life’s many disappointments, who then discovers his furniture store harbors a hidden door that leads to an endless labyrinth. It’s not just the incredible production design that instills a disorienting sense of doom and terror, but the lead characters’ palpable and profound sense of loneliness and isolation. Parsons exudes impressive confidence and control as he methodically entrusts his quiet worldbuilding and talented leads to carry the dramatic weight. While Backrooms does deflate by the film’s cryptic, cliffhanger-y end, it’s arguably the most effective and scariest yet at capturing the uncanny valley of generative AI.
5) Leviticus
Writer/Director Adrian Chiarella uses an It Follows-like supernatural entity that relentlessly stalks its prey as a launchpad to immerse audiences in the horror of constantly living in fear for simply existing. A conversion therapy ritual among a deeply conservative community plunges a pair of erstwhile lovers into a nightmarish bid for survival when it summons a force that takes the shape of those whom the afflicted desires most. Chiarella refines the horror mechanics and metaphor with much sharper precision, ensuring that the scares and emotional gravity of the young couple’s terrifying predicament reach their intended impact. It’s the central layered performances by Joe Bird (Talk to Me) and Stacy Clausen (Thrash) that clinch emotional investment in their heartbreaking plight, ensuring that the social horror cuts deep.
4) Redux Redux
The McManus Brothers, writer/director duo Matthew and Kevin McManus (The Block Island Sound), dials up the intensity of a classic revenge story by setting it within a multiverse, where Irene Kelly (Michaela McManus) seeks to snuff out every single iteration of her daughter’s murderer, Neville (Jeremy Holm). The more she stalks and slays every world’s Neville, the more she risks losing her humanity entirely. Through a narrative foil in Mia (Stella Marcus), Redux Redux smartly bypasses repetition as it explores the moral complexities and vulnerabilities of Irene’s extremely violent quest. Holm becomes utterly terrifying in the climax, ensuring that no matter whether Irene loses herself to vengeance for good or not, it’s justified if it means ridding the world of this sick maniac.
3) 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple
Director Nia DaCosta takes the reins in the second entry in writer Alex Garland and original director Danny Boyle’s trilogy, picking up from the previous conclusion that saw Spike (Alfie Williams) fleeing from the infected straight into the welcoming arms of Sir Jimmy Crystal (Sinners’ Jack O’Connell). From here, DaCosta presents a stark contrast between humanity’s best and worst. The former sees the tender studies of Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) make poignant strides toward humankind’s future, while the latter unleashes more pain and bloodshed courtesy of the Jimmies. The dual paths of light and dark collide in one epic conclusion, an inspired confrontation between good and evil on a stunning set piece of heavy metal insanity. Yet it’s DaCosta’s handling of both extremes that impresses most, teeing up one epic conclusion to this trilogy.
2) Obsession
Sketch comedian turned horror filmmaker Curry Barker (Milk & Serial) wrings blood-curdling terror from a classic Monkey’s Paw wish fulfillment scenario in a way that no one could have ever anticipated. To say that it’s taken the box office by storm would be a massive understatement; Obsession is the top horror movie of the year in terms of gross. It’s not hard to see why, either. While Monkey’s Paw scenarios often yield predictable outcomes, and this outcome is practically telegraphed from the start, Barker manages to surprise with the journey itself. And it’s one insane journey paved with blood-soaked violence and no shortage of nightmare fuel. What truly sets it apart, though, is leads Michael Johnston and Inde Navarrette as the central pair undone by one vicious wish. Expect to see a lot more from breakout Navarette.
1) Hokum
A surly, traumatized writer must break free from his self-imposed shackles of guilt when confronted by a wicked witch haunting a quaint Irish inn in the latest by writer/director Damian McCarthy (Oddity). Adam Scott’s Ohm makes for an atypical but rewarding protagonist, and his complicated emotional journey gives way to a deeply moving story of a man so thoroughly broken by personal trauma that he constantly dwells in darkness. In true McCarthy style, expect the creepy as hell witch to dole out some supernatural retribution for crimes committed, but never in the way you’d expect. The filmmaker has a way of making whimsy pure nightmare fuel; Hokum distorts a kids’ show into eerie, uncanny valley-induced terror in its torment of Ohm. Channeling Stephen King, this creeper plays like a traditional campfire tale in mood and style, infusing genuine scares with a sense of magic and heart.
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