Some of the best horror films of all time were shot in Britain. From The Wicker Man to Saint Maud, Billy Holmes walks through the most expertly frightening flicks our nation has produced.
On a typically British family holiday in Devon, my best friend and I were late-night channel hopping, praying we’d stumble across something better than wide-eyed QVC saleswomen and Hollyoaks reruns. Aged just nine years old, we were transitioning from adorable children to pre-pubescent runts, a horrifying enough event in itself. Then, all of a sudden, we were abruptly stopped in our tracks, an image of a young girl eerily murmuring to a static television set. It both stunned and horrified us. We couldn’t take our eyes off that image.
Tobe Hooper’s 1982 supernatural box office smash The Poltergeist, unknown to us at the time, was about to trigger a lifelong obsession with horror films – in the best way possible. Raised on the 2000’s kids classics such a Monsters, Inc and Shrek (which admittedly did feature creatures of some sort), this illicit viewing of our first horror film would forever change me. I’d never before experienced genuine chills down my spine from a film. We sat there, mute, gawping at the abnormal phenomena that haunted the suburban Freeling family. With dropped jaws and quivering limbs we successfully made it through 114 minutes of hell, but this feeling of being so emotionally subjugated to the small screen would be something that I still pursue to this day.
1982 supernatural horror The Poltergeist was my watershed moment and induction into my horror film obsession
Horror, much like any genre of film, cyclically reinvents itself throughout the years, from the dire Conjuring Universe period to the fantastic rebirth of A24’s arthouse nail biter Hereditary. Here I proclaim the UK has produced some of the most important and thought-provoking horror titles of all time, from the twee occult classic The Wicker Man, to last year’s alluring Saint Maud. With the rising popularity of horror in mainstream cinema, filmmakers are taking more from our country’s horror than ever before, so here are the greatest British horror films of all time.
Saint Maud (2020)
Walking past my padlocked local picture house in lockdown was disheartening to say the least. Adorned in posters of Saint Maud, I was longing to see this latest A24 British horror on the big screen. Opting for an online rental service I was once again blown away from the ingenuity behind A24’s latest psychological horror. The story follows Maud, a mousy hospice nurse who has recently been assigned to care for Amanda, a wildly eccentric and renowned American dance choreographer. Amanda is terminally ill but is in denial and wants to pursue her lavish socialite existence in peace. She drinks, smokes and suffers, whilst constantly reminiscing about the days where she could freely move her body.
Maud is sheepish and yet intimidatingly governing. After recently converting to Roman Catholicism she is convinced that it is her duty to save Amanda’s ‘impure’ soul. Filmed and set in decaying seaside town Scarborough, the two offishly exchange words during conversations about God, life and love. Maud and Amanda are polar opposites – whilst Amanda seems to become more convinced by the power of God, the film is frequently teetering on the edge of darkness, constantly wavering in and out of sinisterly comic situations. Critically acclaimed by the likes of Danny Boyle and Mark Kermode, both acknowledge the likeness to horror masterpieces such as The Exorcist, Carrie and Under the Skin. An astounding directorial debut from producer Rose Glass, Saint Maud plays into the some of classic constructs in horror whilst also relying on a superbly dry British wit to establish this as one of the best British horrors of all time.
Kill List (2011)
For me, Ben Wheatley is at his best when he’s making horror. With the excitement building around his 2021 Anglo-American release In the Earth, many hope he can achieve what he did with gory crime horror Kill List. Featuring Neil Maskell (Football Factory), MyAnna Buring and Wheatley favourite Michael Smiley, this all-British cast convincingly blurs the line between horror and crime. Jay (Neil) and Gal (Michael) are best mates who’ve shared the same violent and reticent career as hitmen after serving in the British Army. Both living their apparently normal lives, they exist in a constant state of nerve-wracking duality as they willingly accept a new job. With a loving family desperately in need of financial stability Jay uses his ex-military experiences to navigate himself and Gal within the perverted and parlous underworld as hitmen.
Jay is the hotter headed of the two as they embark on a gory killing spree. Mistakes are made and morals are relentlessly questioned. What Ben Wheatley does for both horror and crime movie fanatics is orchestrate fantastical scenes of realism. The hits seem plausible and the sheer violence depicted is gross but strangely rewarding for the viewer. With gentle nods to the British history of occultism, Kill List is very much a film of two halves and Wheatley makes this blindingly obvious. The first half is focussed on the tense relationship between Gal and Jay as they successfully take out a priest and librarian who have clearly engaged in brazen paedophilic activities. Littered with hilariously crude Football Factory-esque one liners, viewing is jumpy yet pleasurable. The second half, however, adopts an occultist turn for the worst for the two, nodding to British classic The Wicker Man and America’s The Blair Witch Project. Kill list brilliantly blends horror, crime and the overarching theme of unpopular wars surrounding within the great 2000’s recession.
In Fabric (2018)
Deemed a ‘horror-comedy’, In Fabric impeccably combines both 70’s Italian gothic horror influence with all the quirks and thrills of a B movie. Sheila (Marianne Jean-Baptiste) is a lonely divorcee who lives with her disobedient teenage son Vince (Jaygann Ayeh), her life is bordering on banal as she occupies a predominantly empty house in a nondescript part of London. With little to lose, Sheila decides to start dating again and is in search of the perfect dress for the occasion. As she enters the department store, she’s lured in by a new dazzling dress department. Manned by the hypnotising elegance of Miss Luckmoore, the department store strangely oozes Italian art deco aesthetics and is seemingly run by a group of gothic Eastern Europeans. Turns out this simplistically gorgeous red wrap-around dress has the intentions to kill, yes, you read that correctly – it’s a killer dress.
Set in a curiously surreal time and place in modern day Britain director Peter Strickland (Duke of Burgundy) effectively creates a nervous atmosphere throughout, partnered with outrageously dry British humour woven in to showcase his bizarre vision.
A Dark Song (2016)
Massively going under the radar this, British-Irish indie is a witty yet gruelling film based on the unconvincing efforts of a shady occultist to successfully perform a complex ritual. Joseph Solomon (Steve Oram) is called in by grieving mother Sophia (Catherine Walker) who is struggling to get over the death of her seven-year-old son. At the end of her tether, she is shamefully desperate for an alternative solution. Much like the The Babadook and Paranormal Activity, A Dark Song plays into the tried and tested single location formula – confined to a pokey rented house in Wales, Joseph explains that the pair cannot leave before the ritual is successfully completed. This initiates the start of Joseph’s questionable manipulation tactics to keep Sophia homebound; from drinking his own blood to forcing sex upon her, it all becomes a bit sordid.
But amidst Joseph’s unsavoury behaviour, A Dark Song exhibits moments of complete hilarity. Relentlessly dark as it may be, the film constantly suggests that this all might be a bit of a waste of time for them both. Compare this to other single house location films like Insidious and The Others, it feels more authentic, leading you to believe that nothing really might come out of this. This month-long rite is arduous, emotionally scarring and more so than often nauseating. Director Liam Gavin does a superb job of constructing horror realism. The real horror really lies within the not-so supernatural themes of loss and faith. The more time spend together, they learn more about their emotional scars and weaknesses. With subtle and rather unconvincing signs that the ritual is working, A Dark Song takes a spellbindingly poignant twist. Avoiding all ending spoilers I’ll simply state: this film is a must-watch.
Blood on Satan’s Claw (1971)
Folk horror is big business in Hollywood these days, with recent blockbusters such as The Witch and Ari Aster’s back-to-back successes Hereditary and Midsommar highlighting this shift in mainstream horror. During 1970’s it was hard to escape the sub-genre. From The Wicker Man to Blood on Satan’s Claw, British occultism was fantastically portrayed across a range of films now considered cult classics. Set in 18th Century rural England, an unidentified and deformed skull is suddenly found, covered in fur and housing just one eye. Its origin sparks mass superstition across the village.
The film has aged to give that vintage camp flair that 70’s films often adopt, whilst there are horrific moments it sways from rather comical deaths to steamy village encounters. The village soon discovers the body and claws that belongs to this unrecognisable beast, and the evil that was once inside soon starts to spread contagiously. I’m admittedly a little bit fanatical about folk horror and although Blood on Satan’s Claw isn’t groundbreaking it’s a very important film for the genre.
The Wicker Man (1973)
The greatest horror film of all time, The Wicker Man has often been described as ‘the Citizen Kane of horror movies’. Not to be confused with the dreadfully remade 2016 box office flop, it will never cease to entertain me. The story starts off on the fictional island of Summerisle in Scotland, inhabited by a dubiously wholesome community of eccentric locals that happen to simultaneously share a dark and devious secret. On a typically fine day, Police Sergeant Neil Howle (Edward Woodward) arrives from the mainland to inspect the strange disappearance of a young girl. The Sergeant happens to be a devout Christian who finds it absolutely impossible to smile, but soon enough he painfully discovers all is not what it seems.
The atmosphere of the film is once again typically camp for the 70’s. Characters range from perverted landlords to wildly foxy school teachers with their lines dramatically rolling off tongues as they play fools to the news a girl is missing. Summerisle is a stunningly picturesque setting – shot around the Scottish Isles you can almost smell the fresh sea air as Neil desperately tries to uncover some information regarding the disappearance. But doing so is about as easy as getting blood out of stone, the locals claim she doesn’t even exist, much to the fury of the stern-faced Sergeant. The Wicker Man creates an exceptional atmosphere that few films have managed to ever pull off. There’s something so explicitly off with Summerisle, yet beautifully enchanting, featuring dazzling sub-tropical gardens and stone monoliths. Sergeant Howle is relentlessly the butt of all jokes, from being seductively hypnotised by the landlord’s daughter to just being made a plain fool of, his once calm temperament starts to aggravatingly bubble over.
An 18th-century illustration of a wicker man. Engraving from A Tour in Wales written by Thomas Pennant
We soon discover the island have rejected Christianity a long time ago and now abide by the naturalistic laws of Celtic Paganism, unfamiliar and unnerving this news provokes the Sergeant into fits of anger. Paul Giovanni’s score is a folky masterpiece and is just as important to the film as the narrative, with original knee-slapping songs sung by the cast and fuzzy folk tributes to the 70’s freak folk movement, it at times feels like a twisted musical. After being subject to a wealth of confusing and misleading information, the Sergeant unwilling becomes involved in the islands May Day celebrations, something that he would later entirely regret. The Wicker Man will forever be the primary inspiration behind the new wave of horror we are seeing today and for me Midsommar was a dim tribute to the movie and rather stole than borrowed to entertain a younger audience.
American Werewolf in London (1981)
Written by 80’s comedy luminary John Landis (National Lampoon’s series, Blue Brothers) American Werewolf was a box office hit and later became ‘one of those films you have to see’. Set in the rolling moors of Yorkshire, or ‘Yorkshyer’ as the two backpacking American leads refer to it as, the story begins in the midst of howling storm. Longing for shelter the fatigued backpackers, David and Jack stumble across a local pub, The Slaughtered Lamb. Immediately met with British sneers and scowls, an increasingly hostile atmosphere plagues the air. They become intimidated by the behaviour from the locals and the two decide to head back out into the darkness. Advised to stick to the roads, the two apprehensively trek back out into the cold only to be violently attacked by a snarling four legged creature. Although many claim the film to be rather dated now, this unforgettable scene will never cease to startle and entertain me, with no use of CGI, the beast was masterfully created by makeup artist royalty Rick Baker. The horror is convincing and adopts an unsympathetic comedic tone. A more American style of comedy was applied to this despite it being a very British film, which gives it this unique style which has not been successfully replicated again.
During the dreadful attack, Jack dies leaving David to mourn and recover in intensive care, dazzled by the beauty of a young British nurse, David decides to stay in rainy London. David is constantly haunted by the dead body of Jack who frequently reappears warning him that he will transform into a Werewolf next full moon resulting in a potentially horrific killing spree.
It is rumoured that the main inspiration behind the film was during Landis’s days as a production assistant working on the 1970’s film Kelly’s Heroes in Yugoslavia. During an excursion through a village, Landis was witness to a group of gypsies performing a burial ritual in order to stop their friend supernaturally rising from the grave. It was from this moment Landis realised he would never be able to confront the undead, leading him to the idea of basing a film around this strange feeling. The film feels Hollywood, loaded with big budget actions scenes spanning across Trafalgar Square and West London, but American Werewolf was and still is groundbreaking for a horror. Not only for the concept but predominantly for Rick Baker’s make up, which would go on to change the way horror make up was applied right up to this day. A film that can be watched time and time again, I still get shivers every time is gaze up a full moon in London.
