In 1983, comedian/actor Eddie Murphy released one of the greatest stand-up comedy specials ever in the form of Delirious. During that special, Murphy addressed the concept of families moving into a haunted house and he found himself wondering “Why don’t they just leave?”

It’s a good question and one that definitely deserves its fair share of attention. Using the examples he gives, which are The Amityville Horror and Poltergeist, the question has merit but is complicated by matters brought up within the film. In the former, all the money of the family is tied up in the house. Anyone who’s gone through financial difficulties knows just how stressful and seemingly impossible it is to get out of that situation. With the latter, the thought of leaving behind one of your own, no matter how terrifying and hopeless it might feel, is simply unthinkable.

Yes, I realize that I’m trying to dissect a joke, which takes all the fun out of everything. However, haunted house movies are a big part of the horror genre and finding one that really, truly scares you is a bit of a gem. And in the midst of rubble, debris, and flawed jewels lays Alien, Ridley Scott’s 1979 sci-fi/horror masterpiece, which is, in my opinion, the perfect haunted house movie.

Set aboard the commercial towing vehicle Nostromo, the film follows seven people on their way back to Earth after a picking up over 20 million tons of mineral ore. No one in this crew is the best-of-the-best in their field. These are blue-collar workers who are doing their routine job and suddenly get caught in a situation that they aren’t really ready for and they’re certainly not the most willing of participants.

Right away Alien sets itself apart from many other haunted house films in that the “house” is a spacecraft they consider home during their missions. The “house” is already there from the beginning. The crew knows it, they feel comfortable in it, they are intimately aware of how it works and how to navigate it. This isn’t a situation where people are thrust into a new environment where they have no idea what is around each corner, such as House on Haunted Hill or The Amityville Horror. The Nostromo may be foreign to us but it’s not to the crew and their familiarity gives us, the viewers, a sense of security. It’s only after the Xenomorph bursts from Kane’s chest that this cold yet strangely secure environment became a labyrinthine maze of potential terror. This interloper radically shifted the dynamics of the crew and their “home”, forever tarnishing and damaging their relationship.

With most haunted house movies, leaving is a feasible option, no matter how troubling it might be. As mentioned before, in The Amityville Horror the Lutz’s could’ve left at any point. However, they’d be bankrupt and without any money. The upside is they’d have their lives. In Poltergeist, the Freeling’s could’ve taken off at any point if they were willing to leave behind Carol Anne. It’s a situation whereby there is a pro/con scenario and the film does its best to make sure the audience believes that the cons of just packing up and leaving far outweigh the pros.

In Alien, there isn’t even really a need for this discussion. There are three options that are made available to the crew:

1) They leave the ship. However, outside is space, which means they’ll die instantaneously. In a strange yet absolutely brilliant move, leaving is more dangerous than staying, no matter how you look at it.
2) The crew can all pile into the escape ship. However, they don’t have enough supplies for everyone to survive, so there’s no telling who will make it and who will die. Again, it’s not a viable option because there is no certainty.
3) They stay on board and fight the Xenomorph. This option carries the greatest reward and, oddly enough, the least amount of risk. In the other two options, death is a certainty. In this one, it’s a possibility.

Apart from being a “haunted house” movie where no one can leave, the Nostromo itself is a gorgeous example of a gothic establishment where atmosphere remains king. Let’s look at the following clip where Brett is trying to find Jones, Ripley’s cat.

This scene simply exudes the kind of atmosphere that feels eerie and eldritch. Chains dangle from the ceiling, clinking and swaying although they have no right to. After all, where is the wind in this room? Then there’s the constant dripping of water, which gives off that miserably cold aura that makes you want to wrap yourself in a blanket and drink hot cocoa. The walls are grimy, the lighting sparse, and everything is imbued in a darkness. It’s not just the absence of light I’m talking about here. It’s the overall aesthetic that would feel disheartening no matter how it was viewed. This is essentially a Hammer Horror set, just built for a spaceship and not a European castle.

Another moment that makes this film so wonderful is Ripley’s escape aboard the shuttle. While we believe she has found sanctuary, it is soon revealed that every part of the “house” is “haunted”. She thought she had vanquished her foe by detonating the Nostromo but instead she took the one remaining intact piece of her “home” and the Xenomorph possession was a part of it there as well. What is made throughout the entire movie to be the only viable option for safe escape has become a potential tomb in which Ripley will meet her demise if she does not fight with every ounce of her intelligence, courage, and resources.

In Alien, the haunted house genre faced all of its flaws and issues and they were each accounted for. The Xenomorph “ghost” that seemingly could appear anywhere at will made sense. The possibility of leaving was not a doable unless people were willing to sacrifice themselves and who wants to do that? The environment itself was unsettling and unsafe. Pretty much everything you could want out of a haunted house movie was brought forth for Alien and it presented them in the best ways possible.

Unless a damn good argument can be made otherwise, I’m saying Alien is the perfect haunted house movie.