The 12 Best Horror Movies Of 2021, Ranked

Horror has long been one of the categories that falls firmly under the "genre" label, a set of constraints that set these types of films apart from those that are considered more "serious." This is obviously silly; there are great films within all genres, with horror being no exception. Still, as the medium has aged and terms like "elevated horror" have started to pop up, wider audiences have developed a new appreciation for these types of narratives, granting them the critical acclaim the genre has always deserved.

This year's batch of horror films exemplify much of what's going on with the genre nowadays: They're a bit quieter than the slashers of the '80s, and have picked up on recent trends — there's plenty of family drama, trauma, and personal journeys to be explored here, all of which have long been fruitful grounds for frightening narratives. 

There may still be a long way for the horror genre to go in terms of visibility, however, which is why we've decided to make the list below, which honors a dozen of our favorites and highlights some of the year's best horror gems — whether they lean more towards the commercial, the independent, or just flat-out B-movie greatness. 

Picking up right where "A Quiet Place" left off, "A Quiet Place Part II" follows the remainder of the Abbott family. As someone who wasn't a fan of the first film, I was excited to see this sequel dig deeper into its mythology and sound-sensitive world. "Part II" connects our heroes with a horde of interesting and complex characters, primarily Emmett, a guy the family used to know back when the world was a habitable place. Portrayed by Cillian Murphy with an intriguing enigma and the actor's trademark duplicity, his character is a role typically seen in stories like "The Walking Dead" and "The Last of Us," instantly adding a kick that revitalizes and adds something new to this story. 

Overflowing with tension while comparatively light on plot, "A Quiet Place Part II" leaves the franchise in a perfect spot for another sequel, and hands the reins off to its younger cast members (who deliver a pair of well-crafted performances that'll have you rooting for them until the very end). It's a more hopeful film than its predecessor, with a quick and punishing pace that will have you on the edge of your seat.

The "Conjuring" universe has become one of the most exciting and reliable film franchises. While some entries are better than others, the ones featuring Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga are consistently intriguing, with the actors feeding off of each other's performances and showing just how well they know these characters. "The Devil Made Me Do It" is the third installment of their series, and while it shows a bit of its age and suffers from the fact that it's not directed by James Wan, it remains a scary treat for fans and newcomers alike. It follows Ed (Wilson) and Lorraine (Farmiga) as they investigate a murder, with the man responsible claiming to have been possessed by a demon. 

The "Conjuring" films are primarily concerned with demonic possessions, a subgenre of horror that's tough to crack yet invigorating when done correctly. By mixing things up, the "Conjuring" universe continues to keep things fresh, pushing their stories in new directions and reintroducing Wilson and Farmiga whenever things need a steady hand. 

If you've ever wished for a movie about a gay singer-songwriter battling lycanthropy, well, boy do I have a recommendation for you. "Bloodthirsty" follows Grey (Lauren Beatty), an on-the-rise pop singer who gets invited to work alongside Vaugh Daniels (Greg Bryk), one of the industry's leading producers. After moving into his remote cabin in the woods and unsuccessfully trying to make new music, Vaugh begins to push Grey, suggesting she go off her meds in order to make music that is more real. Suddenly, Grey starts craving red meat and fantasizing that she's transforming into a wolf. 

There's a scarcity of good werewolf films, a sub-genre that can be a great metaphor for transformation and expressing primal instincts without being too on the nose about it. "Bloodthirsty" is most similar to "Ginger Snaps," using werewolves as metaphors for femininity. Surprisingly, it's also equipped with a robust soundtrack, with Grey's songs elevating the film and taking it to surprising places. I wouldn't call "Bloodthirsty" a musical, exactly, but it might be the first werewolf movie with an integral musical presence. That's enough of a reason to watch, in my opinion. 

The premise of "Old," silly as it undoubtedly is, is worth the ticket price alone: A family goes to a beach that makes them grow old. As the years pass within minutes, we see babies become teens, preteens become adults, adults grow into seniors and diseases quickly trigger shocking and terrifying deaths.

"Old" has a premise that instantly makes you wonder how the film will end ... and whether the director will stick the landing. M. Night Shyamalan, a filmmaker who has often seemed more concerned with the ride and the twists therein, makes "Old" something ingenious and cinematic. It's a film made by a director who's done his homework, who knows where to place a camera for the best and most memorable effect. 

"Old" is a delightful body horror romp, making you cringe and squirm while exhibiting a surprisingly keen understanding of death and loss. I found it immensely resonant as a film to watch in the midst of a pandemic, illustrating how painful the passage of time can be and highlighting how important it is to treasure the ones you love while they're still around. 

"The Night House" follows Beth (Rebecca Hall), a teacher reeling from the unexpected suicide of her husband (Evan Jonigkeit). As she drowns in her own pain and self-pity, she starts searching for traces of her husband everywhere, going through old videos and photos as a way of staying connected. Down this rabbit hole, she uncovers strange things (images of women that look eerily like her, books on the occult) which suggest that she may not have her husband as well as she thought she did. Hall, as usual, inhabits her characters with a refreshing unfussiness. They may be going through the worst moment of their lives, but they're active participants in their stories.

 "The Night House" is a sparse movie, something that works in its favor. Its slow pace multiplies its scares and allows the film to grow thick with tension. Like a lot of horror films — particularly the more cerebral ones that deal with topics like death and trauma — "The Night House" tries very hard to make all of its pieces fit, to make sure every loose end is tightly knotted. By the time the third act kicks in and every development is being explained, the strength of its strong opening act gets a bit reduced. Still, it's a great film with a towering lead performance.

Due to COVID-19 fallout, "Saint Maud" originally arrived in the UK back in 2019, and only made it to our shores earlier this year. This gives me all the excuse I need to add it to this list and argue why it's the best horror film of the year. 

The story follows Maud (Morfydd Clarke), a hospice nurse who recently experienced a spiritual awakening. Desperately looking for jobs, she is charged with caring for Amanda (Jennifer Ehle), a retired dancer with late-stage cancer. When she sees the way Amanda lives — smoking, drinking, paying a woman to have sex with her — Maud develops an obsession with saving her soul. 

"Saint Maud" has characters whose actions could be interpreted in a variety of ways: Amanda seems entranced by Maud, jealous of her youth and beauty but pitying of her religious devotion, while Maud appears to admire Amanda and her accomplishments while also seeming disgusted with her. Morfydd Clark makes Maud's character work by allowing every possible explanation to exist within her performance — Maud could be a prophet, yes, but she could also be delusional. 

"Saint Maud" is economical with its scares. It takes time to unfold and is bone-chilling when it finally unravels. The ending made me think of that primordial storytelling principle: Perfect endings are surprising, yet inevitable. "Saint Maud" understands this completely.