Thursday, December 29, 2022

Favorite Films of 2022

Dinner in America. Pure, anarchist joy wrapped in a romance with great chemistry; Emily Skeggs and Kyle Gallner make a brilliant duo. I’m not sure I enjoyed any movie more than this one in 2022.

Dual. Strange, unsettling, and thought-provoking. An imaginative and darkly funny exploration of the ways we live and relate to one another in a capitalist, image-obsessed society.

Everything Everywhere All At Once. If you watch this movie and you don’t feel something… I feel sad for you. And a little scared of you.

Fresh. Daisy Edgar-Jones and Sebastian Stan are perfect in this zany, often queasy, horror comedy. One of the more unique things I watched this year, and I’ve seen a lot.

Good Luck to You, Leo Grande. About a middle-aged divorcee and the sex worker she hires to help tick off the items on her sexual bucket list, Leo Grande is chock full of necessary, stigma-busting conversations about sex, without ever feeling preachy or dry. An antidote to our society’s rampant and far-reaching issues with sex – or a start, at least.

Nope. A Western, an adventure film, and a horror movie all rolled into one, this movie wears its influences on its sleeve in the best way possible. This was the movie of the summer for me.

Resurrection. I love few things more than an intense Rebecca Hall film, and this movie is surely one of her most intense yet. She is fantastic.

Watcher. Cleverly subverts old tropes while remaining wildly suspenseful and entertaining. Maika Monroe is excellent as always.

Windfall. Funny and acerbic, a sharp little gem. If you haven’t seen The One I Love, also directed by Charlie McDowell, I highly recommend it as well.

X. I said everything I have to say about this movie – like, literally everything – in this piece at Daily Grindhouse. Needless to say, I loved it.

Honorable mentions: Barbarian, The Batman, Glorious, Nanny, Sharp Stick, Speak No Evil, We Need to Talk About Cosby (docuseries).

Thursday, June 2, 2022

A Feminine Manifesto, or, What I’ve Been Up to Lately

It’s been four whole years since I self-published I Am Not Your Final Girl
Four years that feel like a lifetime and a blink simultaneously. Four years that I look back on with a lot of pride and, occasionally, in my more insecure moments, some embarrassment.

Especially when I hear the dreaded question, “So, what have you been up to lately?” frequently followed by, “When is your next book coming out?”

My younger self—the five-years-ago self who sometimes feels much, much farther away than that—would probably be terrified for current me. The me now, who has three or four different books in the works and none of them anywhere near completion. The me who spends perhaps too much time thinking and worrying about and planning for a podcast that only comes out every few months, has not many (but dedicated, wonderful, the best actually) listeners, and makes no money at all. The me with few concrete plans about the future, just a vague sense that things will be okay, somehow, maybe. Or they won’t.

(*Insert a shrug emoji here with your mind.*)

The last few years have been hard for me, for the same reasons they’ve been hard for everyone and for reasons specific to my own circumstances... just like everyone else. Doesn’t it feel as though we’ve all been suffering from the same sickness for ages? And yet I feel alone often. Don’t we all? (Really, I’m asking: Do we all??)

Every day, the world seems to get worse. It’s been one long, agonizingly slow ride towards the bottom ever since Trump, but each day, somehow, we lose more. Each day we’re robbed of yet another something. Our rights, our pleasures. Community. Safety. It takes a lot of cognitive dissonance to feel good about much of anything these days.

And yet.

Two things:

1) I never wanted children; thankfully, I preferred the company of animals over kids even when I was a kid myself, and so I never had to grapple with the fact that I was pretty much born assuming the planet was doomed and that people were inherently too selfish to save it.

2) When I was sixteen one of my best friends and I discovered the meaning of life, or so we believed, with all the certainty that comes attached to teenagehood: To do some good in the world, and just as importantly, to have as much fun as possible in the process.

It all felt startlingly simple then, especially because I didn’t plan on leaving anyone behind to worry about. I’d do my part and get out, scot-free. Life without strings attached.

(*Insert a laughing-with-tears emoji here, you sweet, silly thing.*)

I turned 34 last month and have joked several times since that I should only be considered 32 at this point, because the last two years were such a wash. That’s not really the truth, though. Although they’ve been spent in a strange sort of almost-limbo, the last few years have been invaluable to me, maybe more than any of the years that came before. But it’s difficult to explain why, and exactly how. Most people asking the passing question, “What have you been up to?” aren’t looking for real answers anyway. They want headlines, and frankly, there aren’t that many studding my timeline for the past few years—at least, not ones that a lot of people seem to care about.

But you’ve made it this far, so maybe you do.

Sporadically, sometimes in great bursts of inspiration, I’ve been writing. Things that I love. But not nearly as often as I know it takes to keep the machine of a writing career going with any sort of momentum. I feel the pressure to produce constantly, but I also know myself, and I know that giving in to that feeling is the surest way to sabotage my writing. I’ve tried to force things… but when it comes to poetry, it simply doesn’t work for me.

And yet, I am a writer. I’ve always known this about myself, and I don’t think it’s something I could change if I tried. I’m crying on and off as I write this, because I always cry when I write something I need to write. I worry about what would happen if I never wrote again, that all the thoughts and feelings left clutched tight and withering inside might turn into something poisonous, like a cancer. Writing is some of the truest catharsis I’ve ever known, and I love it more than most people. But the last few years have made me wonder, am I a career writer? Do I want to be?

I’ve never known what I wanted “to do.” Not in a way that would satisfy a college counselor, or an interview board. I’ve never been ambitious about jobs or wanted a career, except for a short stint believing I should “go into publishing” in some vague way informed purely by television shows. And now I’m at a phase in my life where the specific ways that I make money seem even less important, less relevant, than ever. “What do you do?” seems an archaic question. Is this little livelihood that I’ve cobbled together out of freelance work and passion projects – is that a career? Or is it just another part of life? Not even the most important part, maybe.

* * *
I’ve been having a lot of sex. That’s the kind of thing you really can’t say when someone asks, “What have you been up to lately?” But it’s the truth.

The last few years have been all about losing the shame I’ve carried around sex and other parts of myself for my whole life, mostly without even realizing it. The Sexy Books Podcast has existed, slow but steady and a constant bright spot for me, for over two years now. We don’t have a huge audience, and perhaps only an even smaller group get what my co-host Blythe and I are going for, but nonetheless it’s been one of the most personally affirming projects I’ve ever worked on. Through frank and nonjudgmental conversations about our sex lives, fantasies, pleasure, and much, much more, I’ve deepened my knowledge of myself by leaps and bounds. I also have it on good authority, from folks who have spoken to or written us, that the podcast has helped some people, whether it be with their own shame around sex and masturbation, or with other wellness issues. I’ve made friendships that mean everything to me.

If you listen to the podcast at all, you may know that sex didn’t come easy to me. I’ve dealt with a plethora of chronic gynecological issues ever since puberty, including hormonal imbalances, endless bleeding, and worst of all, excruciatingly painful sex—secrets that I hid from almost everyone in my life. Secrets that became my partner’s to bear as well, because I couldn’t stand the humiliation of explaining these problems that I couldn’t face or put a name to. It took me years to find help. Far too many, plus a lot of terrible doctors and a couple of good ones, two specialists and a pelvic floor physical therapist, to get where I am now.

(There’s surely another whole essay inside of me regarding the tragedy that is the U.S. healthcare system, but that’s for another day. For now, just remember to put it on the list of reasons for the impending apocalypse. For posterity.)

Now, I have incredible sex, as much as possible, and I shout about it from the rooftops because I fucking deserve to, I worked for it, and because life is too short for all this embarrassment, these rules we pile on ourselves and each other. I want people to know that these problems are not uncommon, even though almost no one ever talks about them. I want people to know that their sexuality is beautiful, transformative even, and it isn’t something to fear but to embrace wholeheartedly.

I have a newfound reverence for my body; for what it looks like, sure—I feel comfortable in my skin in my 30s in a way that seemed impossible earlier—but mostly for what it can do. This body may be riddled with issues, but it’s also pretty damn amazing. This body moves, it hikes and skateboards and fucks. It loves, and it enjoys. It seeks out and revels in pleasure without guilt. Sometimes this body even dances, when I let it. Not often enough, but just like my idol-in-anxiety Kristen Stewart, I’m working on it.

When I feel good about myself, I take the photo I want to take, because I know this body is mortal and if I’m lucky enough to live to be old I’ll want to look back on it and think, “Hell, we had some fun, didn’t we?” Sometimes I blow off entire days of freelance work for pleasure, for fun, for sex, knowing I’ll have to scramble later and not caring, just to feel good for a while, to feel alive. And then sometimes, afterwards, I write.

That’s what I’ve been doing. More than anything else these last several years, I’ve been living. I know it may seem like a luxury, but it was hard-won, and I won't apologize for it. For any of it. On the one hand, I feel like I have the next fifty years to write another book, and on the other life feels shorter than any of us can truly comprehend. When I’m on my deathbed looking back at things, will I regret my wanton years spent screwing more than writing poetry? Maybe. It’s possible. But I doubt it. Anyway, it’s my life to live. You have yours.
* * *
It’s a millennial cliché at this point, the fantasy of running away and thriving off the grid somewhere. To forage for berries and do nothing else but read and fuck and enjoy every last day in the sunlight. To never worry about money or productivity again. It’s a cliché because in a country where capitalism is king, it feels laughably impossible.

I’ve been working mostly on poems about sex and death – and of course, innately, life. But it’s hard not to focus on death in a world where there’s so much of it everywhere, where a pandemic and a war are raging on and yet the world keeps turning, the grind keeps grinding, and we all keep on pretending this is normal. Or salvageable. It’s that cognitive dissonance thing, the instinct to strive on no matter how hopeless the future looks. It’s how we can still go to the park, or make breakfast in the morning, or laugh with friends.

I always thought that not having kids would save me, but with each passing year, another friend or relative gives birth. Beautiful, perfect boys and girls, as yet untouched by any pain or trauma. Their innocence overwhelms me, and the love I feel for them, the painful yearning for a better outlook, reminds me that none of us make it out of here unscathed. I can't be an island, even though sometimes I wish to be.

What is my point here? I’m not even sure that I know, I’m digging it out as we speak, but I think it has something to do with appreciating the moment? But god, how cliché is that. That can’t possibly be the whole point, can it?

And yet.

There are things that can’t be taken away from us, ever. They may seem obvious, but I think they’re worth enumerating regularly: Our ability to love, and to create community. To give empathy and acceptance to others. To find beauty even in an ugly world, or to create it ourselves. And to hold onto whatever scraps of joy we can, to wear them out and wave them as flags, beacons of hope to keep us all going.

I think it’s possible I had it right at sixteen, and I’ve just spent too many of the years since worrying—about whether or not I was doing what I was “supposed” to do, about what other people thought of who I was. I still feel compelled at times, even now, to reassure people that yes, I am still a Very Serious Person, a poet, a feminist, someone you should regard highly despite the fact that I spend much of my time talking and writing about sex now. Please, validate me.

(*Insert an eye-roll emoji here, because really.*)

To care for this world, we must be a part of it. Maybe that’s obvious, but then again, maybe it isn’t. It wasn’t to me, I never found an easy place in it. I still feel alien at times, like humans are completely incomprehensible creatures… but less and less. These days, I feel all too human. Aware of my fallibility, and more accepting when I see it in others.

But I had to find my own way in, and now that I have, even just a little bit, I’m not willing to change or give anything up. To conform or fall in line for a government, or for the great god capitalism. My life now feels unpolished, a little feral, freer, if not free. I still have no idea what I’m doing, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt more useful, more like I’m contributing something to better this screwed up society, which is desperately sick and in need of some open conversation. Maybe only in small ways, one person at a time, but maybe that’s also the best most of us can hope for. Maybe small is actually the way to go.

(It feels so very millennial, doesn’t it, to wish for a small life.)

I’m still terrified, but it makes me realize that I care. It makes me recognize that I haven’t lost hope yet.
* * *
When someone asks me when my next book is coming out, I know they mean well. And honestly, I’m shocked and humbled that anyone still gives a damn. The answer is: it’s coming. And the answer is also: I don’t know. When I have enough to say, I suppose.

The world is so uncertain. The future is ephemeral, something that may never come at all, and I am so very tired of worrying about it. That’s not to say I won’t, because I will. Of course I will. I’ll also continue to fight for it, because I can’t not. But I’m committed to loving the present more than ever—and I mean loving, in every sense of the word. I want to carve out a life that gives and receives, one that is replenishable as well as benevolent. I want gentleness. Truthfully, don’t we all?

I want to speak and write honestly about the realities of the world, albeit at my own pace, so hopefully more of us can feel less alone. I want to create better, smaller worlds within this big, scary one.

Honesty. Community. Empathy. This is the only way I know forward.

I don't know your circumstances, but I hope you can find some version of happiness here, too.


I want everything.

Kisses strung between my hipbones, dropped
from your tender mouth like flowers,
purple blossom bruises,
the smudged jacaranda petals
on sidewalks in the spring
in L.A., when heat is already a mirage
over the asphalt rising in steamy waves,
pricking at your nose like sweat,
the smell of something vital and alive.

What I want is every contradiction
pressed between our bodies like flowers,

and so fragile.

Saturday, December 26, 2020

My Favorite Movies of 2020

Presented in no particular order except the order I saw them in, maybe. 2020 has been ten thousand years long, and a couple of these movies might have actually come out at the end of 2019, but I saw them in 2020 and we’re not going to be perfectionists now, alright? Not so close to the end of the year.

Due to the pandemic and being on lockdown for basically the last nine months, I watched what must be a personal record number of movies this year (over 90 new-to-me horror movies, mostly from 2020). It was practically impossible to narrow it down to my favorite favorites, but I decided to go with the movies I felt most inspired to talk about afterwards. I think these are the films I’ll remember and want to rewatch years from now, but who knows. Some of these I didn’t even like until a second viewing, and then I loved them. Movie-watching feels more tied to emotion than ever for me these days.

So anyway. Here are my favorites for the moment.

The Platform. “A vertical prison with one cell per level. Two people per cell. Only one food platform and two minutes per day to feed.” That sums up the literal premise, but this movie is multi-layered and rich in symbolism. I love a twisted allegory of a film like this one, there’s so much to chew on.

Birds of Prey. I think this is the last movie I saw in theaters in 2020, and what a lovely movie to have linger. Just pure, unadulterated, female-centric joy. This movie felt made for me, a heartfelt gift from the filmmaker in a time when I sorely needed it.

Doctor Sleep. I was supposed to see this movie back when it came out in theaters in 2019, but the gate to my shitty apartment broke and we never made it out of the garage. This is something I’ll probably never get over, because I had to watch this perfect film for the first time on my television instead of projected on a gigantic screen the way the lord intended. Anyway, it’s a beautiful and terrifying film.

Horse Girl. Not a horror movie, but an intense watch that’s at times genuinely horrifying. Alison Brie does an incredible job (as an actor and as one of the writers) balancing an emotionally devastating story with moments of levity and kindness. This one hits surprisingly hard.

Vivarium. This movie really got released at a fortuitous time – about a month or so after the pandemic hit the U.S., I think. Vivarium is about being stuck in a sort of one-size-fits-all adulthood (literally, in a Twilight Zone way), but the movie obviously takes on a much more literal meaning when watched from the confines of one’s home during a global pandemic. A very cool movie, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget watching it when I did.

I’m Thinking of Ending Things. Having never read the book, I found this film almost completely inscrutable upon first watch, and I still loved every minute of it. You’re probably just a Charlie Kaufman person or you’re not, I don’t know. But it made me feel things.

Shirley. Elisabeth Moss put in an incredible performance in The Invisible Man, which was also very high on my list this year, but her impressionistic performance in Shirley—as a surly, complicated, sometimes-dazzling Shirley Jackson—blew me away. This movie plays out like part biopic, part fever dream.

Swallow. This gorgeous movie was my most cathartic watch of 2020. Understated yet so emotionally rich, a perfect film from beginning to end.

Possessor. Perhaps, if I truly had to choose, I would say Possessor is my favorite movie of the year. It’s the one I watched three times in a row, anyway, unable to get the imagery out of my mind. “It was inhuman. I’ll never get the sin stain out,” as they say.

I May Destroy You. This is actually a show, but I had to mention it for Michaela Coel’s incredible performance (and writing and directing!). Raw and honest to the extreme, full of nuance, and beautifully done. Deserves to be discussed with friends.

Horror Honorable Mentions: The Invisible Man, The Other Lamb, Scream Queen!, The Beach House, Relic, The Rental, The Dark and the Wicked, Anything for Jackson, Spree, Gretel & Hansel, The Lodge, Promising Young Woman, Color Out of Space, The Amaranth, The Mortuary Collection, Sightless, His House, Daniel Isn't Real.

Non-Horror Honorable Mentions: Selah and the Spades, Yes God Yes, Unpregnant, Black Bear, Pen15 season 2.

That's it for this year! What were your favorites?

Monday, December 31, 2018

Favorite Films of 2018

I didn't have time for a whole write-up of my favorite films this year (horror or otherwise), but I did do a quick little Twitter thread. In the interest of posterity, I'm reposting it here. Sorry, there are no deep insights, just a bunch of movies I encourage you to check out with an open mind! These aren't necessarily the "best" movies of 2018, just my personal favorites.

About a frustrated teacher who believes one of her kindergarten students is a poetry prodigy, THE KINDERGARTEN TEACHER is mesmerizing, contemplative, and poignant. A rumination on talent, ambition, and unfulfilled possibility. Really deserves to be talked about more.

In DUCK BUTTER, two women meet and decide to skip the "getting to know you" part of a relationship by having sex every hour for 24 hours. Filmed in one night, what could've been just a cheap gimmick is a unique, emotional romp, notable for its no-bullshit treatment of nudity and sex.

HEREDITARY gave me catharsis like nothing else this year. A modern-day ROSEMARY'S BABY of sorts, it hit all the right nihilistic notes for me (what can I say, sometimes I love to be sad). A favorite for the ages.

A SIMPLE FAVOR was a complete surprise - though the fact that Paul Feig is the director should've tipped me off that this would be good. Unexpected and a little zany, this was so much fun to watch (and Blake Lively was born for this role). Go in blind and enjoy.

Icy, bleak, and vicious, HOLD THE DARK knows how to sustain a mood. Ostensibly about a tracker investigating the death of a child by wolves, this enigmatic film is about so much more (than I can say in one tweet). Oh, and that shootout scene!

I truly don't know how I slept so long on ASSASSINATION NATION. An adrenaline shot to the arm, this was the most viscerally upsetting film I've seen all year, and the most galvanizing. On the nose and in your face, it is a welcome call to arms. Rent it now!

I wrote a whole article about why I loved CAM so much, so consider checking that out if you're interested. (But in short: it's a gutsy, hyper-relevant story with great representation for sex workers!)

I'm not a huge superhero person, but SPIDER-MAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE was a joy to watch. Lovable characters, a great story, and some of the most incredible art I've seen in an animated film.

"The story you’re about to see is true... as far as I know." THE TALE is a story of sexual abuse, but it's also a compelling, measured exploration of memory and storytelling. Nuanced, essential watching for living in a time of Judge Kavanaughs.

What were your favorite movies this year?

Monday, October 1, 2018

Made By Women Horror Giveaway!

I'm so happy to be teaming up with two other awesome, talented authors this month for this "made by women" fall giveaway! Enter below by following all three authors on Twitter for a chance to win ALL of the following (three print books and three DVDs):

I Am Not Your Final Girl by Claire C. Holland: A timely collection of poetry that follows the final girl of slasher cinema - the girl who survives until the end - on a journey of retribution and reclamation. From the white picket fences of 1970s Haddonfield to the apocalyptic end of the world, Holland confronts the role of women in relation to subjects including feminism, sexuality, violence, and healing in the world of Trump and the MeToo movement.
Breathe. Breathe. by Erin Sweet Al-Mehairi: Breathe. Breathe. is a collection of dark poetry and short fiction exploring the surreal depths of humanity. It’s a representation of how life breaks us apart and words put us back together. Purged onto the pages, dark emotions flow, urging readers into murky seas and grim forests, to the fine line between breathing and death.
Love For Slaughter by Sara Tantlinger: This debut collection of poetry from Sara Tantlinger takes a dark look at all the horrors of love, the pleasures of flesh, and the lust for blood. For discerning fans of the macabre, look no further than Love For Slaughter.
Honeymoon (directed by Leigh Janiak): A newlywed couple finds their lake-country honeymoon descend into chaos after Paul finds Bea wandering and disoriented in the middle of the night.
American Mary (directed by Jen and Sylvia Soska): The allure of easy money sends Mary Mason, a medical student, into the world of underground surgeries which ends up leaving more marks on her than her so called "freakish" clients.
Pet Sematary (directed by Mary Lambert): Behind a young family's home in Maine is a terrible secret that holds the power of life after death. When tragedy strikes, the threat of that power soon becomes undeniable.

a Rafflecopter giveaway Sorry, but due to costs this giveaway is U.S. only! Giveaway ends October 31st at midnight PST.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Book Giveaway!

I'm so excited to kick off Women in Horror Month this year by giving away two PRINT copies of my new book, I Am Not Your Final Girl!

From Claire C. Holland, a timely collection of poetry that follows the final girl of slasher cinema - the girl who survives until the end - on a journey of retribution and reclamation. From the white picket fences of 1970s Haddonfield to the apocalyptic end of the world, I Am Not Your Final Girl confronts the role of women in relation to subjects including feminism, violence, motherhood, sexuality, and assault in the world of Trump and the MeToo movement. Each poem centers on a fictional character from horror cinema, and explores the many ways in which women find empowerment through their own perceived monstrousness.

The giveaway will run until the end of the month (and you can get additional points by tweeting about the giveaway as often as once a day). More info on the book can be found here and here, or you can preorder the Kindle version here. Thank you for entering!!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

31 Days of Horror Roundup

There really must be something weird and unique about the way horror fans’ minds work, because there’s nothing like a full month of watching horror movies every day to reset my brain. This has probably been one of the most stressful years of my life (for lots of reasons, including the obvious), and it’s been hard to enjoy, well, anything as much as usual. But there’s something so cathartic about watching horror movies when the world as you know it is shifting and cracking, revealing real and deep-seated ugliness all around you. It’s been a rough year, and Halloween came just in time.

Anyway, this is one of my favorite parts: recapping everything I watched and seeing how I felt about it all. Considering this has been an unbelievable year for horror, I’m not surprised that I watched a lot of new, great stuff this month. Let’s dive in! Use the slideshow above to scroll through my tweets recounting the month’s watches and read my quick takes.

Rewatches. I watched a lot of new stuff in October, but as the month wore on I found myself, as usual, slipping back into old favorites. Halloween II was a standout for me this year because I’m pretty sure I haven’t watched that in at least a decade, but it still managed to scare me. I remember being a kid and seeing that hot tub murder, which I’m fairly certain turned me off hot tubs for life. Other oldies-but-goodies: Halloween H20, Hocus Pocus, It Follows, Mother’s Day, Sorority Row, Don’t Breathe, and The Faculty. I also rewatched Alice, Sweet Alice, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, The Amityville Horror, and Turistas, but don’t particularly recommend any of those. Oh – and as usual, I finished the month off with an annual viewing of Trick ‘r Treat, the greatest Halloween movie of all time (come at me).

The meh. As always, there were some duds and under-achievers. This was my second try watching Hell House LLC., and although I finished it this time around, I still couldn’t get into it. As someone who usually likes a good found footage horror movie, it pains me to say that maybe I’m just getting tired of this format – not to mention desensitized to it. I also checked out Hostel II for the first time, and found it to be pretty much exactly what I’ve come to expect from Eli Roth: bad dialogue, mediocre acting, and a lot of gore. It’s kind of funny to me now, though, that the Hostel movies caused such an uproar when they came out. This movie was gory and gross, for sure, but it’s not even remotely shocking to me now.

Amityville the Awakening was about as bad as everyone said it would be (after waiting years for a release date, it’s no surprise). The makeup on the possessed brother was so bad it made me laugh out loud and they committed the sin of making me dislike Jennifer Jason Leigh… but at least you can watch it for free on Google Play. Wish Upon was another PG-13 horror that I had low expectations for, but I actually think it would be a fun horror movie for a younger crowd. It has some goofy parts and is devoid of any real scares, but it held together all right and had a surprisingly ruthless ending that I liked.

I’m a little torn on The Survivalist, because I did find it unique and interesting, and I’m sure certain people would love it. Unfortunately, I also found it depressing and a little too empty… which may have been the point, but was just not quite my cup of coffee. Check it out, though, if you’re into truly bleak post-apocalypse stuff. The Void also has me second-guessing myself, because so many people loved it, but I think I was expecting more of a suspenseful cult movie (a la The Invitation) and got a scifi monster movie instead. Again, that doesn’t make the movie bad, it’s just not my favorite thing.

Now, I have to admit right off the bat here that I’m not a huge Child’s Play fan. I loved Bride of Chucky as a kid because I thought Jennifer Tilly was badass (still do), but it’s never been a favorite horror franchise of mine. So basically, there’s almost no way this movie could’ve been a home run for me. As it was, I enjoyed it. I thought Fiona Dourif did an incredible impression of Brad Dourif, though, so that was really fun to watch.

Finally, Stake Land II was certainly not a bad effort. I still love the world they’ve created here, and The Mother was a creepy and effective new villain. Unfortunately, the plot just wasn’t tight enough and the final battle against The Mother was a big letdown. But maybe I just prefer to imagine Martin married and happy like he was at the beginning of the movie. The vampire apocalypse seems like a non-stop bummer, man.

The good. So much good this year! It’s going to be difficult to recap succinctly, but here goes. Let’s start with Hounds of Love, which kicked off my October in terrifying style. Australian horror is killing it these days, guys. This movie was incredibly hard to watch, even though it managed to keep the most horrifying stuff off-screen (which was a relief, but also, wow, the places your imagination goes when that camera pans to blackness aren’t pretty). Harrowing, flat-out scary stuff here.

Equally difficult to watch was Gerald’s Game – that ending hand scene will stick with me forever. I love a good, one-location survival horror, and this one pushed all the right buttons. Viewers are so split over the ending, but I think it’s kind of inconsequential, to be honest.

The Babysitter and Little Evil were both flawed but genuinely fun and funny, and filled with hilarious characters. Samara Weaving’s babysitter character was refreshingly different (seriously, she seemed like the most chill babysitter a kid could ask for… for the most part) and I really look forward to seeing her in Mayhem later. Little Evil was a little too repetitive at times, and honestly a bit of a disappointment after Tucker and Dale Vs. Evil, but I also realize that’s a high bar. Overall, it was a heartwarming film with innumerable Easter eggs for horror fans, so how can I complain?

Creep 2 was a big surprise, considering the first Creep barely registered for me. I found this sequel much more compelling and unsettling, probably at least in part because the protagonist is a female this time around. It’s not just that, though – Desiree Akhavan (Sara) simply makes for a much more intriguing character than Patrick Brice’s broke videographer in the original. Sara’s motivations are more layered and complex, and thus, so are her responses to what Mark Duplass’s character (the titular creep) throws at her. I was into this.

Speaking of creepy men, M.F.A. was a heartbreaking film about the ubiquity of rape on college campuses. In many ways effective, this movie was a little too muddled to really get its point across. The rape scenes were appropriately distressing to sit through (and not cheap or exploitative, in my opinion), and Francesca Eastwood did a good job portraying the guilt and confusion a victim can feel following a rape. However, some parts of the movie were too pulpy and convoluted, and other aspects of Eastwood’s character seemed beyond the limits of suspension of disbelief. Frankly, while it's something that could possibly be better explored in more depth, the idea that being raped will make you a better artist seems like a dangerous one to throw around to no real end.

And then there’s Life. Ah, Life. I know everybody likes to make fun of you, and yes, you are a silly, silly movie. There are inconsistencies and plot holes and then there’s that “Goodnight, Moon” scene! That was a really terrible speech, Jake Gyllenhaal. And yet... I liked it! So sue me.

New (to me) classics. Finally, we’re down to the Elite Three – my favorite movies of October 2017! Let’s start with a new classic that is actually very old: The Slumber Party Massacre. I can’t believe I’ve never seen this before, because now I have to go buy it. It has all the trappings of a perfect 80s slasher: sex, drugs, bad perms, and a crazed killer with a power drill. The amount of boobs in this movie is staggering. Honestly, though, it couldn’t be more perfect.

Apparently a lot of people hated my next favorite, Better Watch Out. I’ve heard some people say it’s because the trailer was a “trick,” and that it was advertised more as a Home Alone kind of horror comedy while actually being something completely different. I can’t speak to that because I have to yet to even look at the trailer (my preferred method of watching movies), but personally, I loved it. I loved that the movie you think you’re getting turns out to be something much darker and meaner, but it also maintains its sense of humor throughout. Right down to the final minute, I was both on the edge of my seat and laughing out loud. It was a great ride.

Last but definitely not least, and probably destined to be a forever favorite of mine, Super Dark Times. This movie, man – it got into me. Under my skin. Maybe it was the pervasive, oppressive sense of doom lingering over this story from the first scene until the last. Or maybe it was the depressing way that the dialogue nailed how teenaged boys talk, or the melancholy pall over the authentic 90s setting. Regardless, this movie was pitch perfect and penetrating.

So that’s it! One more year down. What gems did you discover this Halloween season? Let me know in the comments or on Twitter!