Time has a funny way of treating art. As days pass into years and years pass into decades, ideas, opinions and consensuses change. What was once deemed good or important occasionally slips into the realm of the irrelevant and forgotten (like pretty much every Best Picture Academy Award winner since 2000).
Conversely, what was once deemed poor is sometimes reappraised, reconsidered, rediscovered and reevaluated. The truth is not everything is assessed rightfully in its own time. This certainly applies to film, and even more so to the (unfairly) most maligned of all cinematic genres, the horror film.
Some films just need time. They need to marinate in the public consciousness for a while until tastes and sensibilities change or until a new generation unearths them and discovers something magical the original audience missed.
Many horror films which today are considered fan favorites or classics of the genre were not always deemed as such. What follows are 10 horror films that either performed poorly at the box office or were vilified by critics – and in some cases, both – but in the ensuing years since their respective releases have been vindicated by audiences and/or critics and are now considered among the very best the genre has to offer.
Peeping Tom:
Then:
In 1960, British director Michael Powell, who had previously directed art-house critical favorites The Red Shoes, Black Narcissus and Tales of Hoffman, unleashed Peeping Tom, the tale of Mark, a reclusive sexually repressed focus puller who takes cheesecake photos of nubile young women and then murders them, showing them their faces in a mirror just as he’s about to snuff them in order to capture the look of fear on their faces at the precise moment they know they are about to be expire. Upon release, British critics tore the film to ribbons, including one reviewer who suggested the film should be thrown into a sewer. The overwhelming scorn heaped on the film and the subsequent backlash effectively ended Powell’s career as a director.
Now:
Thirty years later, Martin Scorsese spearheaded a reappraisal of the film in his book Scorsese on Scorsese. The Raging Bull and Taxi Driver director praised the film, and critics took notice of its psychological complexity and the way in which it implicates the film’s audience as voyeurs, almost as complicit in the murders as Mark is. Peeping Tom is now rightfully considered a masterpiece and was named by Total Film magazine as the 18th greatest horror film of all time.
Videodrome:
Then:
For a while, it seemed as if David Cronenberg could do no wrong. Films such as Shivers, Rabid and The Brood were minor hits, and critics hailed the young Canadian director as an intelligent and exciting voice who could imbue his films with subtext, smarts and stomach-churning effects. In 1983, Cronenberg followed his highest-grossing film thus far, the literally mind-blowing Scanners, with Videodrome, the story of television station owner Max Renn, played by James Woods, who comes across the pirate “Videodrome” signal in his search for ever-more salacious content to air. In pursuing “Videodrome,” Renn descends into a wormhole of danger, hallucinations and “the new flesh.”
Reviews for Videodrome were generally positive, but not overwhelmingly so. The notoriously horror-hating Roger Ebert wrote of Videodrome, “The characters are bitter and hateful, the images are nauseating… Videodrome, whatever its qualities, has got to be one of the least entertaining films of all time.” Despite the added star power of Blondie singer Debbie Harry, Videodrome grossed a paltry $2 million at the box office, a fraction of Scanners’ $14 million and less than half of the film’s budget.
Now:
“Long live the new flesh!” Videodrome, if not the best film in Cronenberg’s unparalleled body of work, is at least in the top 3 (it’s certainly my favorite.) The film’s fans are legion and adore Cronenberg’s hallucinatory mindfuck of a movie, made all the better by Rick Baker’s pulsatingly icky makeup effects. Videodrome is considered a film both prophetic and terrifying in its message. By depicting a world where the biological and the technological intertwine and intermingle, Videodrome proved a film twenty years ahead of its time and presaged the information superhighway, technologically-governed world we live in today.
The Mist:
Then:
Cinematic adaptations of Stephen King’s stories have always been hit or miss, both critically and at the box office. Frank Darabont’s adaptation of the King novella, originally published as part of the collection Skeleton Crew, was released in 2007 to favorable reviews (although Ebert of course hated it) but a dismissive public. The film barely recouped its budget, grossing just over $25 million domestically, a fraction of Darabont’s other King adaptation The Green Mile. (Darabont also brought The Shawshank Redemption to the screen, but that didn’t fare much better at the box office than The Mist, despite now being ranked #1 on IMDb’s Top 250 list.)
The Thomas Jane starrer, a dark film about a small group of survivors holed up in a grocery store shrouded in an impossible to see-through mist which hides all sorts of horrific monsters, was made even darker by Darabont’s decision to film an extreme downer of an ending which differed greatly from King’s tale.
Now:
The Mist, despite its anemic box office take, is considered by many as one of the better King adaptations. The pessimistic ending that enraged the studio enough that Darabont had to forfeit his director’s salary in order to include it, is now lauded for its uncompromising bleakness and has been praised by King himself as the ending he wished he would been brave enough to use to conclude his story.
Trick ‘r Treat:
Then:
This one was barely given a chance to get off the ground floor. The anthology flick set on All Hallows’ Eve and loosely connected by the character Sam was supposed to be released theatrically in 2007. However, instead of seeing the darkened light of the multiplex, Trick ‘r Treat was relegated to studio limbo for two years before being dumped unceremoniously onto home video in 2009.
Now:
As the years go by, Trick ‘r Treat fandom continues to grow as new fans discover the film. It sits at 86% “Fresh” on review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes and was even given 5 stars out of 5 by this very site. Sam is a popular Halloween costume and has been merchandised as both an action figure and a high-end collectible. Director Michael Dougherty has announced an upcoming sequel, Trick ‘r Treat 2. Hopefully that one will receive the theatrical respect that the original so sorely deserved.
Army of Darkness:
Then:
Yep, Army of Darkness. The third film in the Evil Dead franchise and the one that spawned just about every eminently quotable catchphrase which Ash-heads spout today was dead on arrival when it hit theatres in 1992. Made for $13 million, Army of Darkness only recouped eleven of those, despite having the widest release of any Evil Dead film. Critics weren’t too kind either. Entertainment Weekly gave the film a middling C+, and Roger Ebert (again) wrote, “The movie isn’t as funny or entertaining as Evil Dead II… maybe because the comic approach seems recycled.” Furthermore, the film’s release was held back by the studio for a year while they tinkered with it and re-edited it.
Now:
Screw the critics. Army of Darkness is the shit! There isn’t one horror film that’s quoted more than this one. The film has sprouted a cottage industry of merchandise, comic book adaptations and video games. Fans of Evil Dead rightly reclaimed this one, and even though it’s much more comedic than the pure horror of the first, it sits proudly next to its predecessors as part of one the best trilogies in the genre.
American Psycho:
Then:
Bret Easton Ellis’s uber-disturbing 1991 novel was long deemed unfilmable, although that didn’t stop studios from trying. Initially Stuart Gordon was set to direct, with Johnny Depp in the lead role of the homicidal, designer clothing and Huey Lewis and the News obsessed Wall Streeter Patrick Bateman. Next it was David Cronenberg and Brad Pitt. Eventually, Lionsgate obtained the rights, and it was to be Oliver Stone and Leonardo DiCaprio. When they too dropped out, eventual director Mary Harron insisted on casting the then relatively unknown Christian Bale.
The film was released to a shitstorm of controversy in 2000, and critical notices were all over the map. Roger Ebert actually liked this one, but Los Angeles Times critic Kenneth Turran called it a “…stillborn, pointless piece of work.” Easton Ellis himself was critical of the cinematic gestation of his source, and the film grossed a much lower than expected $15 million.
Now:
If the Dark Knight is Bale’s most iconic character, Patrick Bateman is running up the rear in an extremely tight photo finish. Horror hounds have adopted Bale’s Bateman as their own, and the character has been merchandised on t-shirts and as action figures. Music videos have paid homage to the film, and academic work has been written which examines it as a cogent and vital piece of social criticism.
Freaks:
Then:
In 1932, Tod Browning followed up his groundbreaking Universal Studios classic Dracula with Freaks, a circus-set twisted morality tale which cast real sideshow performers as the titular freaks. The blowback was enormous. Audiences recoiled at seeing non-normative people depicted on-screen and didn’t cotton to Browning’s message that the freaks were the good guys while the “normal” people were the real monsters. The film was cut to shreds and truncated from 90 minutes to 64 (footage that is now considered lost). Freaks was banned in certain US states as well as all of Australia and the UK and subsequently withdrawn from theatres by MGM.
Browning’s career never recovered. He wasn’t permitted to make a film for three years following Freaks, and even then, he only made three more pictures, one of which, The Devil-Doll, didn’t even credit him as the director.
Now:
The legacy of Freaks has vindicated Browning’s vision. The film is considered a challenging work of brilliance and was included in the book 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die. David Bowie referenced the film in his song “Diamond Dogs,” and Frank Zappa used images from it on his Tinseltown Rebellion album. Most notably, the line “Gooba-gobble, gooba-gobble. We accept her. One of us, one of us.” has entered the pop culture firmament and was modified slightly by The Ramones for their song “Pinhead” (inspired by the film) and stood as a rallying cry for the band throughout their entire career.
Day of the Dead:
Then:
In 1985, audiences must have wanted their zombies and reanimated corpses funny, as evidenced in same year releases Re-Animator and The Return of the Living Dead. Hence, not a good year for George Romero to release the third and bleakest entry in his Living Dead opus, Day of the Dead. It came and went quickly in theatres, grossing only $5.8 million domestically. Reviews were decidedly mixed with Variety writing that Day was the most unsatisfying of the dead trilogy and that “The acting… is generally unimpressive and… unintentionally risible.”
Now:
It’s Day of the Fucking Dead: George Romero’s favorite Dead film (and to that assessment, I cannot disagree.) It features some of Tom Savini’s all-time best work and is notable for the character of Bub, the most memorable zombie in the history of zombie films. Without a single line of dialogue spoken, Howard Sherman imbues Bub with pathos and sympathy and creates a zombie character that is the most human, and in many ways, the most tragic.
Halloween III: Season of the Witch:
Then:
In 1982, after the successes of the first and second Halloweens, studios wanted more Michael Myers stalking and stabbing action, but John Carpenter (now producing the series) and partner Debra Hill wanted none of it. Instead, Carpenter envisioned Halloween continuing as a series of standalone stories occurring on All Hallows’ Eve.
Halloween III: Season of the Witch, which was written and directed by Tommy Lee Wallace, was not a slasher and contained less violence and gore than the previous two films. Instead of continuing the saga of everyone’s favorite sororicidal slasher, Halloween III tells the tale of the evil owner of the Silver Shamrock Novelty Company, who intends to kill many on Halloween night through the combination of latex head masks and a Celtic ritual involving a stolen rock from Stonehenge.
Reviews were not kind. Our friend Mr. Ebert wrote that the film was “a low-rent thriller from the first frame.” And audiences were confused. They wanted more Myers and less mysticism. The film fared poorly at the box office, paving the way for Mikey’s return six years later in Halloween IV: The Return of Michael Myers.
Now:
Sing “Eight more days ‘till Halloween, Halloween, Halloween/Eight more days ‘till Halloween/Silver Shamrock!” to the tune of “London Bridge,” and horror fans will prick up their ears and subsequently not be able to get the damn jingle out of their heads for days. Halloween III has gained a reputation in the ensuing years as a quirky fan favorite, and the film is now enjoyed on its own merits, lack of an inside-out William Shatner mask-wearing killer be damned. Replicas of the three Don Post designed masks are sold by high-end costume outfitters, and the electro-pop soundtrack has been reissued on vinyl by Death Waltz records. It only took 30 years or so, but Halloween III has gone from vilified to vindicated. And speaking of Carpenter…
The Thing:
Then:
If ever there was a film more unjustifiably torn apart by critics, it has to be John Carpenter’s 1982 update of 1951’s The Thing from Another World. Upon release, reviews of the claustrophobic masterpiece were downright vicious. Carpenter himself has said, “I take every failure hard. The one I took the hardest was The Thing. My career would have been different if that had been a big hit… The movie was hated… the piling on was insane. Even the original movie’s director, Christian Nyby, was dissing me.” Of The Thing, New York Times critic Vincent Canby wrote, “A foolish, depressing, overproduced movie that mixes horror with science fiction to make something that is fun as neither one thing or the other. Sometimes it looks as if it aspired to be the quintessential moron movie of the 80s.” Yikes!
1982 Moviegoers were more prepared to embrace Steven Spielberg’s cuddly extra-terrestrial E.T. than Carpenter’s decidedly more hostile ones. The film grossed a mere $13 million and did not recoup its budget.
Now:
The Thing is rightfully hailed as the masterpiece it should always have been considered to be. It sits at #167 on IMDb’s Top 250 (a list where, surprisingly, E.T. is nowhere to be found), and contemporary critics have reappraised the film. In his book Horror Movies of the 1980s, John Kenneth Muir called the film, “Carpenter’s most accomplished and underrated directorial effort…. the best science fiction-horror film of 1982, an incredibly competitive year, and perhaps even the best genre motion picture of the decade,” and The Boston Globe named it the scariest movie ever. The soundtrack, a collaboration between Ennio Morricone and Carpenter, is hailed as a classic, and Rob Bottin’s groundbreaking effects work (with some assistance from Stan Winston) are among the greatest practical effects ever committed to celluloid.