The Best Horror Movies for Actors to Study

Courtesy Orion Pictures

“The Silence of the Lambs” (1991)

Jodie Foster won an Oscar for her turn as FBI trainee Clarice Starling in Jonathan Demme’s best picture winner. We’re all familiar with the “Don’t go in there!” trope in horror cinema, in which a character enters a situation we know to be dangerous. Foster’s performance is a perfect cocktail of strength and vulnerability, making it a great one for actors to study. 

She plays Clarice as a woman with such strong, clear morals that we believe her choices every step of the way. She’s a North Star for any actor to follow when playing a horror scene; her performance serves as a reminder that it’s better to be guided by a character’s ethics than by the plot of the film. Many of the movie’s best scenes arise from the tension between Clarice’s steadfastness and the objective terror of her situation. 

“Midsommar” (2019)

As Dani, a traumatized woman who finds herself drawn into a pagan cult, Florence Pugh has the chance to play a wide range of the human experience. Yet throughout Ari Aster’s folk-horror indie, the actor keeps us grounded in her emotional reality even as her character becomes more and more lost and confused. 

From the jump, Dani experiences a staggeringly cruel trauma when her sister murders their parents before taking her own life. Pugh underscores her performance with a constant thrum of agony, whether Dani is dealing with her toxic boyfriend or wordlessly screaming while surrounded by a group of women who echo her wails.

The film’s iconic final scene is a master class in close-up performance: When Aster’s camera homes in on Pugh’s face, we see a transformation that makes everything feel both clearer and more ambiguous.

Courtesy  RLJE Films

“Psycho” (1960)

Spoiler alert: Norman Bates, the seemingly ineffectual mama’s boy and off-putting proprietor of the Bates Motel, dresses up as his dead mom and stabs people to death. Watching Alfred Hitchcock’s masterpiece with this twist at top of mind makes Anthony Perkins’ performance all the more revelatory.

Study the actor’s relationship with the dramatic irony of Norman’s situation, juxtaposed with his final fate—especially if you’re preparing to play a character whose reveal as the antagonist doesn’t come until late in the story. Notice the way Perkins underplays his expository early scenes with Janet Leigh’s Marion Crane; his work is small and subtle, his politeness and calm vocal timbre slowly amping up the tension. In the film’s final shot, like Pugh’s in “Midsommar,” the actor offers the camera a simple smile that changes the way we feel about everything that’s come before.

“Mandy” (2018)

In Panos Cosmatos’ psychotropic fever dream of a film, Linus Roache’s Jeremiah Sand is bad from moment one; it makes his work deliciously, fiendishly entertaining—and educational for actors. Jeremiah believes himself to be so deserving of worship that he’s the leader of a violent religious cult. This egomaniacal confidence is an important quality to keep in mind if you want to play an effective horror antagonist. A character like Jeremiah believes that whatever they’ve decided, no matter how extreme, is the only possible way forward. Bringing that level of commitment to your work will ground even the most stylized material, making your character feel all the more menacing.

However, when Jeremiah is taken to task for his actions, Roache makes his character vulnerable to great comedic effect. He demonstrates an essential performance skill: Roache is self-aware, even though Jeremiah isn’t. The actor knows that his character must crumble the moment he’s called out, and he’s just as committed in this performance mode as he is at the beginning of the movie. Look to this film for inspiration if you’re playing a bad guy who is ultimately defeated by the hero.

Courtesy Lionsgate

“Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer” (1986)

Michael Rooker’s performance as the title character in John McNaughton’s psychological horror is among the most nihilistic and relentlessly evil pieces of screen acting you’ll ever see. But the actor never makes the material feel hyperbolic, which would render the film unwatchable. Instead, he’s compelling as he sheds light on the psychological truth of such a despicable character, which should be the goal for any actor playing an antihero.

Rooker works a layer below Henry’s innate violence rather than directly into it, mining the unexamined aspects of an otherwise repugnant character. The actor’s performance is a study in not playing a “killer,” but rather a human being who kills.

“American Psycho” (2000)

Whereas “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer” cuts to the core of its antihero with gritty realism, Mary Harron’s “American Psycho” obfuscates with sheen and plastic. Patrick Bateman, indelibly played by Christian Bale, is at constant war with himself and reality. He’s obsessed with status symbols, waxing poetic about business cards, dinner reservations, pop music, and his skincare routine. But as he says in his voiceover, his mask of sanity is beginning to slip. Convinced that life is meaningless, he combats his nihilism with absurd, overwrought acts of violence that may or may not actually be happening. 

Bale’s performance highlights the importance of finding a central conflict for your antihero that’s rooted in a playable philosophy. In this case, it’s the runaway consumerism of the 1980s pushed to its logical extreme.

Here’s a technique you can borrow from the actor: According to Harron, Bale “had been watching Tom Cruise on David Letterman, and he just had this very intense friendliness with nothing behind the eyes, and [Bale] was really taken with this energy.” So if the antihero you’re playing is missing that layer of authenticity, look to the world around you for inspiration.

Courtesy Dimension Films

“Halloween” (1978)

Film scholar Carol J. Clover coined the term “final girl” in her 2002 book “Men, Women, and Chain Saws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film.” It describes the female protagonist in a slasher—a horror subgenre in which a crazed killer picks off their victims one by one—who survives the mayhem partially thanks to her virtuousness. Whereas her female friends might be promiscuous and get stabbed for their vices, the final girl remains, for lack of a better term, “good.” Clover wrote that “these films are designed to align spectators not with the male tormentor, but with the female victim—the ‘final girl’—who finally defeats her oppressor.”

When Jamie Lee Curtis made her film debut as Laurie Strode in John Carpenter’s horror classic “Halloween,” she helped codify what it means to be the final girl. The Oscar winner’s performance digs beneath Laurie’s goody-two-shoes persona to find the core of the character. Actors play humans, not ideas—and Laurie is a fully realized person. Even as her character demures, Curtis lets the audience in on every feeling she’s experiencing. Laurie’s evolution from quiet, repressed girl to scared victim to the activated hero of her own story is a helpful map to follow in your own work.

“Scream” (1996)

Wes Craven’s first “Scream” movie stars Neve Campbell as final girl Sidney Prescott. This is a particularly helpful film to study because it’s self-aware about the tropes of the genre—so it provides a handy list of cliches to either consciously avoid or play into, depending on what makes your material sing.

Campbell gives a live-wire performance that’s both emotionally honest and visceral, inviting audience empathy. Even when the actor leans into the meta-comedy of the piece, her interpretation of Sidney never devolves into self-parody. Her work, supported by the text, is also a helpful example of how a “moment before” or “secret” can help you find playable layers in your performance (in this case, the trauma of Sidney’s mother’s murder).

Courtesy Bryanston Distributing Company

“The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” (1974)

Watching Tobe Hooper’s seminal slasher feels like it should be illegal. It’s a work of uncommon, blunt power because it feels so disquietingly real—not just because of its violence, gory makeup, or production design, but because of Marilyn Burns’ leading performance.

She plays Sally Hardesty—historically considered to be the first final girl—a woman who becomes the target of a grotesque family determined to torture her, consume her, and yes, hack her to bits with a chainsaw. This is primal material, and Burns’ work is so harrowing and effective because she gives herself wholly to the role. 

It’s a fearless, selfless performance; even her iconic moment of victory is tinged with guttural shock; it’s the kind of reaction that happens when one’s brain shuts off completely. Aim for this level of simple verisimilitude in your own work. 

“The Babadook” (2014)

Amelia Vanek is a different kind of victim in Jennifer Kent’s cult horror indie. Played bombastically by Essie Davis, she’s a widowed mother who’s already grappling with psychological issues before the titular monster even shows up. 

This precise performance explores all the layers of her character’s predicament. Her work is genuinely frightening because the issues Essie faces are grounded and relatable—grief, single parenthood, and alienation from your own family—before the film takes a supernatural turn with the introduction of a spooky monster with long arms and a big hat. Davis brings a true sense of fear to this thoroughly human performance, making it a solid example for actors to follow if they want to genuinely upset viewers.

Courtesy Buena Vista Pictures Distribution

“Rosemary’s Baby” (1968)

Roman Polanski’s 1968 film is a prime example of “elevated” horror, and it features an embarrassment of acting riches. Mia Farrow’s central performance as Rosemary Woodhouse—newly impregnated under increasingly sinister-feeling circumstances—is a master class in understanding the journey of a project, both on a micro and macro level. 

Farrow finds the nervy, gurgling dread at the center of every horror her character experiences; but she understands where exactly on the emotional map Rosemary is at any given moment, toggling between subtle uncertainty and full-out screaming. 

The elevated horror genre—particularly when it comes to its emphasis on issues like familial disruption—owes a great deal to this film and Farrow’s performance in it. But she’s not the only one to study: The movie’s final moments feature jaw-dropping turns from supporting performers John Cassavetes, Ruth Gordon, and Sidney Blackmer, who find various ways to embody sinister gaslighters. Pay particular attention to the way Cassavetes underplays the climactic scene: His choice feels more evil because it’s grounded in recognizable human traits.  

“The Sixth Sense” (1999)

Bruce Willis, Haley Joel Osment, Toni Collette, Olivia Williams—a quartet of beautiful performances from these actors underpin M. Night Shyamalan’s masterpiece of psychological horror. The actors in this film understand that, like the best pieces of this genre, “The Sixth Sense” is an emotion-driven drama that just happens to feature spectral visions and supernatural scares.

Willis plays the frustration of the love and comfort in his life drifting away from him, while Osment evokes the primal sadness of growing up around peers who don’t understand him. Collette, meanwhile, embodies the confusion that comes with failing to understand her own son, and Williams portrays a character who’s caught between moving toward a new life and backsliding into her old one. These keenly observed, realistic slice-of-life performances make the scary stuff to pop even harder. Most importantly, these actors make every single scene, whether it’s scary or not, is intriguing and poignant. 

As you examine the script of the movie you’re in and find the humanity in your character, think about how the performers in “The Sixth Sense” did the same.

Courtesy Warner Bros. Pictures

“Evil Dead II” (1987)

This Sam Raimi cult classic is out of its entire gourd. It’s a bonkers cacophony of absurd gore, over-the-top demons, slapstick, and careening camerawork. “Evil Dead II” inspires both unhinged laughter and real screams. It’s one of the most enduring and influential B-movies ever made.

At the center of all this mayhem is a company of actors who believe with every fiber of their being—at least when Raimi calls “action”—that what’s happening to them is true. Watching “Evil Dead II” with this in mind will let you in on the secret to performing successfully in a work of camp horror—don’t play it as camp. Bruce Campbell, the star of this idiosyncratic franchise, plays protagonist Ash Williams as the script demands, whether it’s as a doting boyfriend, a victim of supernatural horrors, a badass action hero, or a man possessed by a demon. 

His performance is captivating because no matter how absurd things get, the actor always takes his character’s situation seriously. Let the campiness of your project speak for itself; if you react truthfully to your character’s situations, you’ll still elicit gasps and laughs alike from your audience. 

“Malignant” (2021)

On the other hand, you may find yourself in a work of self-aware camp horror that asks you to wink at the audience, whether this is because of the script itself, your acting instincts, or cues from your director, you might find yourself in a more self-aware piece of camp horror. If you want to learn how to walk this tightrope successfully, turn to James Wan’s “Malignant.”

Like “Evil Dead II,” this film is unhinged. Wan and co-writer Akela Cooper tell the story of Madison (Annabelle Wallis), a woman tormented by visions of bloody murder. (And to spoil the killer’s identity would ruin the movie’s madcap power.) At first glance, it may seem like Wan’s central performers—Annabelle Wallis, Maddie Hasson, and George Young—are bad actors. But if you take a closer look at their work (even before a gleefully violent twist recontextualizes the plot entirely), you’ll see that these performances demonstrate a clear understanding of the film’s tone. The actors are subtly winking at the absurdity of the material, yes; but they’re also letting themselves get caught up in the world of the film, not playing above it, but wholly within it.

Courtesy 20th Century Fox

“Young Frankenstein” (1974)

Shot in black and white, this deliciously silly film from Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder is both an ode to and a parody of Universal horror classics. “Young Frankenstein” features a cast of unbelievably talented comedic performers—Gene Wilder, Madeline Kahn, Marty Feldman, Cloris Leachman, Peter Boyle, Terri Garr, Kenneth Mars, even friggin’ Gene Hackman—working in a wide variety of styles. 

It’s an essential watch for any actor looking to study the comedy-horror genre because there are so many different comedic styles on display—Boyle and Mars’ cartoonish physicality, Wilder and Leachman’s intense commitment to the film’s stakes, and Feldman’s ability to defuse the tension of the situation. 

At the center of these disparate choices is a love of the material. The actors avoid any sense of ironic detachment, an essential skill when playing two seemingly contrary genres. Examining the work of this peerless cast will give you plenty of skills to put in your own tool belt.

“The Cabin in the Woods” (2011)

Like “Scream” before it, Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard’s “The Cabin in the Woods” is an essential watch for comedy-horror performers because it deconstructs the archetypes of the genre. But the film goes beyond parody, gifting its characters with nuances that add to the intrigue: Kristen Connolly’s final girl is both stubborn and sensitive, Chris Hemsworth’s dumb jock is surprisingly intelligent, and Fran Kranz’s bumbling stoner is refreshingly insightful. Look for ways to make your own character in a horror-comedy stand out, as projects in this genre are most successful when they eschew audience expectations.

Courtesy Artisan Entertainment

“Man Bites Dog” (1992)

“Man Bites Dog” is shot in a scuzzy, acidic style that proves how potent mockumentary horror can be. Co-director and co-writer Benoît Poelvoorde plays Ben, a charming serial killer followed by a documentary crew (two of whom are played by the other co-directors, Rémy Belvaux and André Bonzel) as he inflicts mayhem on the people around him. 

Poelvoorde understands the sickening degree to which having a camera pointed at your face—the primary characteristic of the genre—changes a person’s behavior. Ben preens, mugs, and constantly interacts with the camera, cannily juxtaposing salesmanship and sadism. Look at Belvaux and Bonzel’s work, when you’re charting the arc of your mockumentary character. Their transition from passive observers to culpable participants is recorded in harrowing detail, and they play these beats with grim, unaware realism—a stark contrast to Poelvoorde’s work. 

“The Blair Witch Project” (1999)

A North Star for found-footage horror, Daniel Myrickand Eduardo Sánchez’s microbudget indie follows a group of amateur filmmakers who travel to the woods to uncover the truth behind a local legend. 

This scorching picture demonstrates a key component of found-footage acting: trust. The first half of the film features a series of authentic-feeling arguments among a group of friends and collaborators. It’s impressive to watch the cast rely on each other, knowing that there’s no need to push the envelope when you’re playing a person who just happens to be caught on camera. 

And when the horror screws begin to turn, culminating in that iconic close-up of Heather Donahue telling us, “I’m so scared,” she knows that a pure, raw reaction to her surroundings is all that’s needed to communicate her character’s terror. In lesser found-footage films, actors can push their performances beyond the point of believability; in “Blair Witch,” the actors put their trust in the genre’s ambiguity.

Courtesy 20th Century Fox

“The Phantom of the Opera” (1925)

Rupert Julian, Lon Chaney, and Ernst Laemmle’s silent horror classic based on the 1910 Gaston Leroux novel is essential viewing for actors working with prosthetics. The iconic Chaney plays the title character, a murderous, masked composer haunting the Paris Opera House. The actor’s self-designed makeup was a landmark achievement in SFX, contorting his face into a skull-like rictus. And while the work remains starkly horrifying to this day, what’s most inspiring about the actor’s performance is his aching emotion. Chaney’s Phantom is motivated by love and regret, and he embodies these vulnerable, relatable characteristics with astonishing skill.

“Barbarian” (2022)

For a contemporary example, look to Matthew Patrick Davis’ work as the Mother in Zach Cregger’s cult indie about the horrors lurking beneath a Detroit rental home.  The Mother, a tragic monstrosity who brings the film’s first act to a shocking close, is a disturbing grotesquerie—decaying skin, rotting teeth, stringy hair, discolored eyes. When the film needs the character to live up to her appearance, Davis does so with a sense of horrible rage. Though the actor is slathered with makeup, he strips the Mother’s motivation down to its bare parts—a great example for actors playing this type of monster to follow.

However, the Mother communicates a surprising amount of vulnerability, and even pathos. Taken at face value, disquieting scenes in which she treats Justin Long’s disgraced actor AJ Gillbride like a baby to the point of breastfeeding him evoke the requisite levels of squick and shock. However, the Mother communicates a surprising amount of vulnerability, and even pathos. Taken at face value, disquieting scenes in which she treats Justin Long’s AJ like a baby to the point of breastfeeding him evoke the requisite levels of squick and shock. But notice Davis’ face, verbalizations, and body language in these moments; she doesn’t come off as fearsome, but content. 

Monsters become monsters for a reason—in this case, because the Mother is searching for a semblance of peace. Find this drive, and you’ll get to the heart of your prosthetics-aided character.