Here Are the Feminist Horror Films to Watch This Halloween

While the subgenre of rape-revenge films has always polarized audiences, Coralie Fargeat’s debut film offered a fresh, female-centered perspective that made it stand out from competitors. Most notably, the director made the choice not to showcase the assault itself, focusing instead on the revenge storyline that occurs after. Because of this, it was praised for limiting its potentially triggering scenes.

Ever wondered who coined the term “the male gaze”? It came from British theorist and filmmaker Laura Mulvey, and in 1986, a group of her students actually produced a half-hour-long Black queer feminist horror short embedded with her ideas. Following the relationship between Zena, a Black lesbian academic researching horror, and Lillia, a white bisexual vampire, it was directed by Bruna Fionda, Polly Gladwin, and Zach Mack-Nataf as their graduate film from the London College of Printing, and it was made with local filmmakers, artists, and activists in Brixton, London.

Starring Nell Tiger Free, The First Omen served as a prequel to 1976’s The Omen. It follows an American nun in Rome as she discovers her part in a conspiracy to bring about the birth of the Antichrist. A commentary on bodily autonomy and religion, it was directed by Arkasha Stevenson and brought a fresh, female-focused lens to the supernatural franchise.

An early example of feminist horror, Alien was credited at its time with subverting the final-girl trope. It stars Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley—a character that was originally written to be a man—and portrays her as smart and strong, in opposition to the typical horror trope in which the women who find themselves alive at the end of a movie get there by sheer luck or by dint of their virginity.

Directed by Ana Lily Amirpour, A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night was promoted as the “first Iranian vampire Western” and offered fresh ideas on a handful of horror tropes and contemporary topics alike. Following a man-eating vampire in the worn-down ghost town of Bad City, it utilized supernatural motifs to discuss real themes of safety for women in crime-ridden towns.

Another film that takes its cues from real life stories, A24’s Talk to Me follows a grieving woman who, following the death of her mother, discovers she can conjure spirits with an embalmed hand. Though supernatural, its ideas of human connection and grief remain grounded throughout the movie, with themes of motherhood and female friendship piercing through the horror storytelling.

If you were looking for a slasher film written and directed entirely by women, The Slumber Party Massacre is for you. Originally written by feminist author Rita Mae Brown as a parody of the subgenre, it took a dark and humorous approach to slashers, poking fun at their misogynist tropes. In terms of its plot, the classic sleepover-gone-wrong tale centers on high school seniors forced to face off with a serial killer.

No contemporary-horror-film list would be complete without the work of Jenna Ortega, who has reignited a spark in the genre over the past several years. In general, her portrayals of eccentric, strong women defy tropes, and in this Tim Burton sequel, she gets to work alongside two other major talents, Winona Ryder and Catherine O’Hara. At its core, the spooky yet comedic film focuses on the story of a matriarchal family, with complicated mother-daughter dynamics that feel fresh to the genre.

Set in the mid-1980s but created 40 years later, A24’s MaXXXine plays with the golden era of slasher films and turns the storylines around, exploring ideas of female rage in male-dominated industries and sexual power. Following Mia Goth’s character, a porn actress attempting to break into mainstream Hollywood, it serves as the final chapter of the X trilogy. As a whole, the franchise feels like a tribute to its predecessors while pushing the subgenre to new places.

Curry Barker’s sensational debut, Obsession, took a magnifying glass to Gen-Z dating anxiety earlier this year. The story revolves around an awkward young man named Bear (Michael Johnson) who wishes his best friend, Nikki (Inde Navarette), would fall in love with him, but he’s afraid to ask her out, fearing he’ll end up in the friend zone. Instead of respecting that distance, he shows his true colors when he makes a wish that makes her obsessed with him—to a horrifying and violent degree. Barker’s crisp 100-minute movie is a feminist comment on soft guys who mask their misogyny in faux consideration when in reality, they don’t take the time to listen to the women around them.

Jacques Tourneur’s trailblazing black-and-white thriller Cat People (1942) follows Irene (Simone Simon), who’s convinced she transforms into a giant cat when she’s angry or, well, turned on. The movie imbues Irene with a then-groundbreaking sensuality, building the lead woman’s sexual autonomy in a way Hollywood hadn’t seen before. In some ways, the antagonist of the film is society’s expectation of her as a woman, with more standards built to squash her sexual desires.

In Ginger Snaps (2001), director John Fawcett and screenwriter Karen Walton rework the typically masculine werewolf story into a coming-of-age story about two sisters. The night Ginger (Katherine Isabelle) gets her first period, a wild animal attacks her, and the next day she starts…changing. Her sister, Brigette (Emily Perkins), notices she’s becoming more aggressive, growing hair from her attack scars and, most shockingly, developing a tail. Tension between the teenagers grows, but Ginger increasingly enjoys her killings. This parable of teenage angst belongs in the annals of feminist horror simply for its rare depiction of feminine adolescence channeled into werewolf folklore.

Some 50 years after its premiere, Brian De Palma’s Carrie remains a foundational feminist film that wrestles with bodily autonomy and female rage. The story starts with Carrie’s first period, which her mother treats as a sinful curse (and it doesn’t help that her gym classmates ostracize and tease her by throwing tampons at her). This scene frames the movie as a commentary on Carrie’s autonomy and what it means to have her femininity seen as a curse. The teasing, bullying, and downright abuse she faces from her family and community culminate in one final act of rage—one that takes seriously the damage and trauma Carrie faces. By the end, the audience is geared to root for Carrie as she rages against the cruel world around her.