Editorials
‘So Weird’: Revisiting Disney Channel’s Gateway Horror Series Now on Streaming
The Disney Channel series So Weird (1999–2001) was “gateway horror“ for its many young viewers—a diluted taste of the horror genre before moving on to the full-strength stuff. Yet, looking back, bizarre phenomena and things that go bump in the night weren’t what set So Weird apart from its contemporaries and successors. The difference-maker was really that flair for navigating narrative tones within the bounds of a family show. Even when the subject matter was bordering on dark or heavy, the handling never stopped being sincere. In return, the audience felt more invested in the characters and their stories.
For So Weird, executive producer Henry Winkler was inspired by his lifelong interest in the supernatural. Creator and writer Tom J. Astle, as well as showrunners Ali Marie Matheson and Jon Cooksey, then manifested that fascination, coming up with a mixture of The Partridge Family and The X-Files. Resolvable cases of strangeness, plus a number of built-in music numbers, are definitely all part of the package here; however, those same aspects inform the underlying story. That story, of course, is one of a girl whose coping mechanisms for loss were poring over her haunted past and deciphering the unexplained.
That very first episode of So Weird (“Family Reunion”) illustrates why Fiona “Fi” Phillips (Cara DeLizia), an internet-savvy teenage sleuth riding on her musician mother’s tour bus, is so keen on the supposedly unreal. Fi’s father died in a car accident when she was only three years old, leaving her with little memory of him. Even so, there’s comfort in knowing death doesn’t have to be the end of their relationship. If Fi can do the extraordinary, such as making contact with the “other side” and reconnecting lost souls, then maybe seeing her father again—and finding closure—isn’t totally out of the question.
Pictured: Cara DeLizia as Fi Phillips in So Weird.
Disney Channel was prone to airing So Weird’s episodes out of order, but given their self-supporting quality, this practice didn’t make an impact until events didn’t line up chronologically. Perhaps only older or scrutinizing viewers would even notice. That said, a decent chunk of So Weird was inconsequential; jumping in and out of an average episode could be done without a fuss. Plus, the Molly Phillips Tour was constantly on the move, and any gig or stopover ended once Fi solved her latest mystery. These one-off cases entailed an encounter with Bigfoot, a boy and his Tulpa, and a Siren forced into the music biz. Why these uncanny things happened whenever Fi was around, by the way, points to the notion that such freaky matters aren’t actually uncommon—they’re just harder to see by those who aren’t “open” like Fi. Another theory, one backed up by certain developments in the later episodes, is the ring Fi inherited from her father; it allows her “access” to the paranormal.
It wouldn’t be an investigative, supernatural drama without at least one skeptic in the mix. So Weird’s most obvious inspiration, The X-Files, relied on Dana Scully to cast doubt and find the logic in the illogical, whereas this show positioned Fi’s older brother Jack (Patrick Levis) as the resident nonbeliever. Keep in mind, Jack wasn’t the only one who didn’t buy Fi’s out-there ideas; everyone around Fi was dismissive at worst, doubtful at best. This included the Bells, another family along for the ride. Fi’s mother, Molly (Mackenzie Phillips), had her reasons to deny the constant flow of eerie happenings surrounding her and her kids, too, yet she didn’t double down and act smugly like her son. In all fairness, though, Jack’s incredulity isn’t done out of spite. As So Weird demonstrated with good knowledge, everyone deals with grief in their own way. Clinging to the ordinary is all that makes sense to Jack, who, as a reminder, does have memories of his late father. And Fi, who unknowingly inherited her dad’s interest in the otherworldly, often dug into the past, a place Jack preferred not to visit.
Image: Cara DeLizia as Fi, Mackenzie Phillips as Molly, Patrick Levis as Jack, and Erik von Detten as Clu in So Weird.
The “mystery of the week” episodes didn’t always advance the overarching plot or have a profound effect on the characters, yet ones like “Rebecca” were game-changers in their own way. This particular entry, like a few others, focused on Molly rather than Fi, and it contained complex and mature storytelling within a show primarily aimed at the tween crowd. There’s not a dry eye in the house, though, once Molly pours her heart out about the episode’s namesake, her first experience with loss. The equally affecting “Banshee” delved into Molly’s heritage and upbringing, and it offered a contrast to Fi and her father; while Fi longs for what’s physically gone and has to scrounge for memories, Molly’s “da“ is still alive and in contact, but also emotionally unavailable.
It goes without saying that So Weird didn’t shy away from death. The series approached the topic with readiness and a wisdom beyond its protagonist’s years. However, if one’s exposure to Disney Channel is limited to everything that came before and after this show, then all its talk about dying and the afterlife could be startling. At the same time, So Weird wasn’t obscene about death, either—Fi was curious like anyone her age and in her position might be, but her wonder was fraught with preciousness and sympathy. Even so, the death tourism takes a toll on Fi, as shown towards the end of Season Two.
After paving the road that would eventually lead Fi back to her father, So Weird hit a snag: Cara DeLizia was leaving after two seasons. The writers had already proposed an epic plan for Season Three when Fi was written out of the series altogether. This curveball fueled the rumor mill for years, but DeLizia clarified that she was released from her contract, at her mother’s request, “to pursue other projects.“ In Ashley Spencer’s book Disney High: The Untold Story of the Rise and Fall of Disney Channel’s Tween Empire, DeLizia stated the decision was “out of [her] control“ even though she didn’t want to leave and Disney wanted her to stay. Nevertheless, the show must go on.
Pictured: Fi’s “So Weird” webpage, as seen in the show.
In Season Two’s finale (“Twin”), also DeLizia’s penultimate appearance before officially exiting, Fi found her father, then lost him again in the same moment. The consequences of Fi messing with things she shouldn’t have resulted in her being attacked by a ghastly entity on top of a city high-rise. And in deus ex machina fashion, Fi is rescued by her father’s spirit. That reunion, while ephemeral, was designed to leave the door open for more daddy-daughter meetings down the road, but alas, all of that was scrapped for a very different, not to mention toned-down, Season Three.
In the final season’s opener (“Lightning Rod”), Fi handed over everything—her room, her ring, the show—to the younger, bushy-tailed, and musically-inclined Annie Thelen. Alexz Johnson’s character, a close friend of the family who was never mentioned prior to this episode, immediately moved into the Phillips’ home at the request of her concerned, world-traveling parents. And similar to that desire for Annie to experience some stability for once in her life, So Weird itself was settling down. Molly was weary from touring, and she was ready to stay home and raise her kids.
The change in tone was unmistakable after that largely serious second season. Towards the end of it, however, there were supplemental stories that came off as a test-run for the Annie portion of So Weird. These sillier, stand-alone episodes included Fi’s run-ins with a bridge troll, a secret society of academic vampires, and a veterinarian who turned people into dogs. The threat of dying was never absent from these given installments, but the general execution downplayed that fact. Meanwhile, Annie’s adventures were carved from the same rock, albeit more lighthearted. With Fi now living with her aunt, so she herself can have a normal life, there was no longer an overshadowing plot to guide the show.
Pictured: Alexz Johnson as Annie, Mackenzie Phillips as Molly, Patrick Levis as Jack, Erik von Detten as Clu, Belinda Metz as Irene, Dave Ward as Ned, and Eric Lively as Carey in So Weird.
The casting of Mackenzie Phillips as Molly was a bit controversial, due to the actor’s highly publicized personal life, but in hindsight, there was no one more suited to play a survivor. Unfortunately, Molly became a shadow of her former self as the show was retooled, and Phillips’ character wasn’t as showcased or fleshed out as her junior co-star; she shifted from a roaming, maternal rocker to a stay-at-home mom. And the music slot that was previously filled by Phillips was transferred to Johnson. The blueprint for future Disney Channel productions, such as Lizzie McGuire and Hannah Montana, was laid out as Annie took to the stage and belted out original teen-pop tunes, not adult-contemporary tracks.
Annie, who stumbled into her strange cases rather than sought them out, had her own mystical history to untangle. It was nowhere as involving, intense, or traumatic as that of Fi, but Johnson’s character was no less unusual. And wearing Fi’s ring made that journey to self-awareness possible; Annie discovered she had a guardian spirit in the form of a panther. The phantasmal big cat has kept a watchful eye on the Thelen girl, ever since she nearly died from a snakebite in Peru, and a member of a local indigenous tribe saved her. Having that higher power in her pocket, even unknowingly, ensured Annie was “protected” like Fi, and it served as a get-out-of-jail-free card for her predicaments.
Disney Channel was still rebranding when So Weird was first conceived and aired, and the network’s initial openness to experimental storytelling back then explains why this series reached such great heights. The introspection ultimately eased up to allow for something more compatible with expectations about D.C. fare, yet when So Weird was truly living up to its title, it was fresh, engaging, and most importantly, never one to talk down to its audience.
The entirety of So Weird is now streaming on Disney+.
Pictured: An ad for Disney Channel’s So Weird.
There’s a lot of reading left to do in 2026, between the glut of summer releases and the approach of fall, when horror titles get a special push from publishers, but this has already been an incredible year for horror literature.
Some of the biggest names in the genre have turned in outstanding work, rising stars have made their mark, and we’re only halfway through the year.
To celebrate the midway point of 2026, with plenty of horror books still to come, we’re taking a look back at the best horror books we’ve read this year so far, listed alphabetically by author.
If you missed any of these books earlier in the year, consider this your reminder to catch up.
Japanese Gothic by Kylie Lee Baker
A student running from a crime he may or may not have committed escapes to his father’s country home in Japan, only to find himself haunted by strange apparitions, while in the past, a young samurai tries to find salvation for her family and finds a door to the future instead. Kylie Lee Baker’s Japanese Gothic begins with this dialogue between past and present, and then blossoms into so much more, a cross-time ghost story about old wounds and what it really takes to finally heal them. I got so happily lost in this one that I would have read at least 200 more pages.
Persona by Aoife Josie Clements
In this tale of shut-ins, sex workers, artists, and the horrors they both summon and recoil from, Aoife Josie Clements weaves something that feels less like a story to be experienced and more like a psychic wound to be endured, and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. Evocative in its prose and nightmarish in its imagery, Persona is a story of the masks we wear, and the understanding that not all of our masks are particularly pretty or even easy to breathe through. It’s a dense, literary, unnervingly vicious book, and while it’s already attracted an audience, it deserves a much bigger one.
Dead First by Johnny Compton
Johnny Compton’s latest novel opens with a throwing down of the gauntlet, a sequence that made me instantly think “How on Earth is he going to top this?” It’s a story that begins with a billionaire hiring a private investigator to determine why, despite trying in many brutal ways, he cannot die. That premise, and the scene which sets it all off, is so alluring and delightfully gruesome that you almost can’t believe it’s the way a book begins, and then Compton just keeps going, delivering a supernatural mystery that I could not put down.
Make Me Better by Sarah Gailey
A woman grieving for the life she wanted visits a mysterious island renowned for the healing salt its residents harvest and sell, seeking renewal and relief. What she finds instead is a strange cult with a twisted history with surprising resonance in her own life, and a people who are more than willing to grant the relief she wants, for a price. Laced with beautiful prose and moments of profound realization alongside folk and even cosmic horror, this is vintage Sarah Gailey.
Partially Devoured by Daniel Kraus
If you love horror film history and analysis, Partially Devoured is an essential. Written by Pulitzer Prize-winner Daniel Kraus, the book is a deep dive into his favorite movie of all time, George A. Romero‘s Night of the Living Dead, complete with exhaustive research into the making of the film and passages of deeply moving memoir woven in. If you’ve ever wanted to know what the eerie music that opens the film is called while also bursting into tears at how horror movies can save your life, this is a must-read.
Wretch by Eric LaRocca
Our reigning King of Extreme Horror, Eric LaRocca weaves books of uncommon beauty out of the most nightmarish parts of humanity, and Wretch is no exception. The story of a grieving man who longs for relief and searches for it amid a strange support group that might be a cult, Wretch is a brutal journey into the darkest part of us all, and explores what salvation we might find when we get to the rotten core of the world and peel back its layers. LaRocca’s on a tear of great work right now that few other genre writers can match.
Headlights by CJ Leede
A mystery, a serial killer horror show, a tribute to Stephen King‘s The Shining. All of these things describe CJ Leede’s Headlights, and yet they don’t begin to cover the full breadth of horror awaiting you in this novel. The story of a former FBI agent drawn back into the cold case that haunts him most, it’s a shocker brimming over with vivid moments that’ll live behind your eyes. CJ Leede has now published three novels, and they’re all bangers, so it’s time to get on board if you haven’t already.
It Came From Neverland by Cynthia Pelayo
Cynthia Pelayo has been one of our finest genre writers for years now, but It Came From Neverland is my favorite thing she’s written, and it’s not even close. A dark take on Peter Pan from the perspective of an adult Wendy Darling living in World War I-era London, Pelayo’s book works as both a satisfying horror narrative and a rich exploration of what it really means to never grow up. The horror never loses its potency, but it’s the search for the meaning behind the Peter Pan phenomenon in our own lives, and what we can do about it, that sticks with me most.
Filth Eaters by Ito Romo
Ito Romo’s Filth Eaters is a slim volume, one you can read in just a couple of hours if you’ve got the inclination, but it has the feel of a generation-spanning epic. The story of a breed of vampires born in Central America, the European vampires who encounter them, and the offspring they eventually produced, it spans centuries and packs loads of juicy lore into its pages while never losing its grip on character and narrative drive. I would read hundreds more pages of this world, but I’ll settle for this uncommonly grand-scale novella for now.
Dead But Dreaming of Electric Sheep by Paul Tremblay
A former pro gamer gets a job at a tech company to pilot a brain-dead human body across the country, and so Paul Tremblay’s sci-fi-horror juggernaut begins. Indebted to Philip K. Dick, the primal snarl of Harlan Ellison, and the quirky comedy of The Big Lebowski, and yet wholly original, this is a towering and ambitious novel by one of horror’s most respected voices. What starts as a high-concept tech thriller soon becomes a startling meditation on the value of stories, who gets to tell them, and what happens when we cede too much control to machines we don’t understand. It’s a stunner.
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