Editorials
‘Alone’: ‘Shutter’ Follow-Up Delivers Eerie Tale of Survivor Guilt [Horrors Elsewhere]
Horrors Elsewhere is a recurring column that spotlights a variety of movies from all around the globe, particularly those not from the United States. Fears may not be universal, but one thing is for sure — a scream is understood, always and everywhere.
Although Japan and South Korea dominated the import boom of Asian horror circa 2000s, Thailand gained more attention all thanks to one movie. Shutter, the 2004 ghost story about a haunted photographer, put Thai horror on everyone’s radar. And when it came time to follow up on their debut, filmmakers Banjong Pisanthanakun and Parkpoom Wongpoom stayed within the same genre, as well as crafted another suspenseful haunter.
Alone begins in South Korea where the protagonist, Pim (Marsha Wattanapanich), now lives with her husband, Wee (Vittaya Wasukraipaisan). After Pim’s surprise birthday party, she receives word about her mother, who has been hospitalized for a heart attack back in Thailand. Pim temporarily relocates so she can be by her mother’s side, but being back home starts to stir up bad memories and unresolved feelings. Until they were fifteen years old, Pim and her twin sister, Ploy, were conjoined. The operation that separated them was not entirely successful; only Pim survived. Pim has quietly lived with the guilt since then, but being back in her homeland, she can only think of Ploy. That shame eventually begins to manifest as visions and apparitions in the corner of her eye. Is this all the work of a troubled conscience, or does Ploy’s spirit actually inhabit her childhood home?
The main inspiration for Alone is undoubtedly the most famous set of conjoined twins, Chang and Eng Bunker. The now-outdated term ‘Siamese twins’ originated with the brothers, who were born in Thailand when it was called Siam. However, Alone is also inspired by a longstanding cultural notion about twinship. Superstitions surrounding identical twins vary from place to place, but one single belief is widespread. Ancient folklore and mythology planted the idea that one twin can be the moral inversion of the other. Later on, the ‘evil twin’ was born and popularized by books, film, and television. While the horror genre is no stranger to the trope, few movies focus on conjoined twins. Even fewer see them as individualized characters free of stereotypes.
Representing polar ends of the morality scale, Pim is always seen as the kind-hearted twin, whereas Ploy is immortalized as the jealous and selfish one. This is a traditional depiction in media; twins are extreme opposites in personality. Even though other stories might reference the yin and yang construct when writing their twins as night and day characters, there is also the complementary element — the twins complete each other — that is absent from Pim and Ploy’s relationship. They were more harmonious in the past, but things changed for the worse once Wee came between them.
The nature of identity is something regularly explored with twins. In Alone, Ploy is seen as the more aggressive and protective sister. She stood up to the bullies who made fun of her and Pim; at one point she hit one of their childhood tormentors square in the face with a rock. So when Wee came along, the twin dynamic was upset. Ploy not only feared losing her role as Pim’s knight, she felt alienated by her sibling’s romance. Being scared of abandonment is one thing, but Ploy’s tactics to keep her sister and Wee apart suggests something else was going on. Something darker.
Pisanthanakun and Wongpoom approach the supernatural aspect of Alone rather differently this time around. In Shutter, the ghost Ananda Everingham’s character sees is less ambiguous in both appearance and origin. Meanwhile, Pim’s mental breakdown is evidenced by visceral and spectral fantasies that may or may not be the work of a restless spirit. She sees horrifying figures just about everywhere she goes; in a mirror, in the bathtub, in the garden house, and inside an elevator. Yet every time something bizarre happens, Wee and a psychologist try to convince her — and the audience — this is only a product of Pim’s guilt complex. The film does its damndest to create an air of doubt surrounding the phantasmal antagonist.
This era of Asian horror was big on overt jolts and scares, and Alone did not shy away from the trend. The frights are pulled off in all seriousness without the intermittent comic relief so common in the directors’ horror output. When there is no ghost action to be found, the movie delivers random and grisly shocks that will not sit well with animal lovers. Alone exudes meanness here and there, and when it wants to, it is plain nasty.
After the sizable twist in Shutter, the audience can expect something similar — but very different — for Alone. Going down the road it takes, though, the movie risks losing its audience. Almost always, Thai horror tends to be about ghosts as opposed to the human killers, zombies, and other villains commonly seen in Western movies. For all intents and purposes, there is an unearthly force at work here, but just as easily, the events can be explained away with a more logical theory.
Alone stokes thoughts of doppelgängers and survivor guilt. Wattanapanich’s performance is unchained, Niramon Ross‘ cinematography surpasses that of her last collaboration with the directors, and the ending takes a turn in the best way possible. The movie does not quite pack the same punch as its predecessor; Shutter hands down wins in terms of reveals. Even so, Pisanthanakun and Wongpoom put together an exceptional sophomore film that deserves a bigger audience and wider distribution.
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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