For more than fifty years, Body Horror has been crawling out from under cinema’s skin, creeping audiences out with wild ideas, twisted transformations, and enough gooey special effects to make even the strongest stomachs queasy. Classic early examples include The Blob (1958) and The Fly (1958)—both of which got grisly makeovers in the 1980s (The Blob (1988) and The Fly (1986), both proudly featured here). These films helped shape body horror as we know it today, pushing practical effects and the terror of physical transformation right to the bloody forefront of horror cinema.

Fast forward to modern cinema, and body horror is still absolutely killing it—delighting old-school gorehounds and luring new fans into its sticky, blood-soaked embrace. If anyone’s thinking of renaming the genre, might I suggest “Pink Noir”? Because nothing says dark mystery like a flood of prosthetic blood and twitching entrails.

Today, we’re diving into the most recent entry, The Substance (2024), alongside other unforgettable gore-fests. From the first tiny little bloody lumps of the ’60s straight through to today, here is Extreme Body Horror.

 

Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

 

Body horror clawed its way into the spotlight a decade after The Blob and the Fly, thanks to Roman Polanski’s iconic chiller, Rosemary’s Baby (1968). This sinister classic taps straight into the primal terrors of pregnancy and new motherhood, transforming everyday anxieties into a waking nightmare. Who could forget that surreal fever dream where poor Rosemary is seduced by… well, let’s just say her partner isn’t exactly candlelit dinner material. The film doesn’t just hint—she’s carrying Satan’s spawn!

Not only did Rosemary’s Baby (1968) rake in box office gold, but it also nabbed critical praise (including an Oscar for Ruth Gordon). Its queasy blend of psychological tension and light body horror didn’t just shake up viewers—it cracked open the door for more mainstream explorations of bodily dread. Suddenly, Hollywood was getting comfortable with uncomfortable stories about what can go horribly wrong with our own flesh, inside and out!

Eraserhead (1977)

 

In the decade of disco, a young up-and-comer called David Lynch crashed the scene with the ultimate fever dream: Eraserhead (1977). Lynch’s first film was very much an experimental one, which dives headfirst into screaming infants wrapped in latex nightmares and parental anxiety thick with industrial grime. Poor Henry Spencer (brought to jittery life by Jack Nance, who really set a new standard for hairdos in horror) finds himself trapped in a cityscape where everything leaks, shrieks, or hisses at him.

Eraserhead didn’t just scar audiences—it paved the twisted back alley for what body horror would become. The 1980s feasted on these grotesque ingredients: mutating flesh and existential freak-outs became the main course, with directors like David Cronenberg rising from this new muck.

 

Altered States (1980)

 

Some films get criminally overlooked, and Altered States (1980) is one of those hidden gems. This was the first time we saw William Hurt on the big screen—he’d go on to bag an Oscar for Kiss of the Spider Woman (1985), but here he’s already gripping. It’s also a very early appearance from Drew Barrymore, who would soon become horror royalty in Firestarter (1984) and of course many years later would run into Ghostface in Scream (1996).

Directed by Ken Russell, who wasn’t afraid to push boundaries (let’s not forget his utterly bonkers work on The Devils (1971)), Altered States serves up a plot that truly stands out. Forget haunted houses or masked killers—this film dives into sensory deprivation, trippy visuals, and existential terror as a scientist literally tries to lose himself using drugs and float tanks in a bid to pierce the straitjacket of reality.

Sure, some special effects look like they came straight from your dad’s lava lamp collection, but Russell’s warped vision still packs a gut punch today. The transformation scenes? Gnarly enough to make Cronenberg proud—a bit of body horror before it became cool.

Fun fact: legendary effects wizard Dick Smith worked on this film too (the same mind behind Regan’s demonic makeover in The Exorcist (1973)). The madness onscreen is more than just visual flair—it’s Russell yanking you through metaphysical anxiety and psychedelic chaos with zero apologies.

 

The Thing (1982)

 

Before John Carpenter unleashed The Thing (1982), he’d already cemented his place in horror royalty with the stone-cold classic Halloween (1978). But when 1982 hit, he dropped an atomic bomb on both science fiction and body horror—one that’s STILL making audiences squirm, decades later.

The Thing is an isolation nightmare film, where a group of researchers are stuck out in the icy grip of Antarctica… and someone (or someTHING) among them isn’t what it seems. What truly cranks up the terror are those infamous practical effects. Rob Bottin, who was only 22 at the time (Carpenter nearly broke him!), created gore-soaked nightmares that still put most digital monsters to shame. If you’ve not seen a man’s head sprout spider legs and walk off across the floor, you haven’t truly lived—or shuddered.

The impact was a full-blown revolution in horror film craftsmanship during the 80s. The film inspired flicks like The Fly (1986) and helped set a wild new bar for what onscreen monstrosities could be. The Thing didn’t just crawl under our skins; it hung up posters and decided to stay.

 

Videodrome (1983)

 

Just a couple of years after shaking audiences with Scanners (1981), David Cronenberg swaggered back into the arena and recreated himself as the undisputed maestro of body horror with the mind-scrambling Videodrome (1983). Starring James Woods in one of his best unhinged roles, Videodrome dives headfirst into themes that still feel edgy today: sadomasochism, grotesque violence, kinky sexuality, and an ever-creeping sense of paranoia.

Cronenberg doesn’t hold back. We’re treated to all sorts of off-kilter terrors—loss of bodily autonomy, hallucinations and existential fears about how tech invades our heads (and other places). The body horror is next level: there’s a now-infamous moment where Max Renn (Woods) reaches into his literal stomach slit and whips out a handgun. Good luck forgetting that!

There’s also enough conspiracy here to satisfy anyone who thinks their TV might be giving them instructions at 3am. Sleeper agents? Check. Government manipulation? Check. Psychedelic temporal confusion? All present and correct.
Not only did Videodrome cement Cronenberg’s rep as king of flesh-mangling terror, but it set up so much that wider pop culture continues to riff on—from eXistenZ (1999) right through to modern nightmares like Black Mirror (2011—). Few films have managed to bottle both the thrills and repulsion as effectively—long live the new flesh!

 

Re-Animator (1985)

 

H.P. Lovecraft’s fingerprints are all over body horror—tales soaked in cosmic dread and twisted flesh. The argument could easily be made that he set the stage for what we now gleefully call “body horror.” His work pulses with unspeakable transformations—if you’re not growing new limbs or losing your marbles halfway through, is it even Lovecraft?

The mid-1980s kicked off a glorious spree of Lovecraft-inspired films, sliding gooey bits and existential terror straight onto our screens. Top of the heap has to be Re-Animator (1985), a wild ride based on Lovecraft’s Herbert West–Reanimatorserial. Starring Jeffrey Combswho plays Herbert West, one of horror’s most memorable mad scientists (after Dr Frankenstein of course!) , mixing black comedy with buckets of entrails.

And honestly, if you’ve seen it, you can’t not remember that jaw-dropping scene with Dr. Hill’s severed head and poor Barbara Crampton. The 80s were deeply unrestrained—where else could you see such boundary-pushing splatter crossed with stark nudity? This was pure unrated chaos courtesy of director Stuart Gordon, forever changing the course of cult horror.

 

From Beyond (1986)

 

Stuart Gordon jumped straight back into the sticky depths of Lovecraftian mayhem with From Beyond (1986). Here, cosmic horror gets a turbo boost thanks to “The Resonator”—a bonkers device engineered by the doomed duo Dr. Edward Pretorius (played by Ted Sorel leaking menace) and Dr. Crawford Tillinghast (the always-unhinged Jeffrey Combs). The pair’s experiment goes wildly off script when their tech tickles the pineal gland, sending reality into a meltdown and letting nightmarish creatures ooze across dimensions.

If you’re after that delicious body horror—think mutated flesh, writhing appendages, and all manner of goo—From Beyond delivers in spades. While it never quite reaches the deranged heights of early 80s splatter classics like The Thing (1982) or even Gordon’s own previous cult smash, it still secures its spot as a must-watch for fans who crave practical FX over digital slickness.

 

The Fly (1986)

 

If you’re looking for cinematic body horror perfection, The Fly (1986) is about as gooey and tragic as it gets. Directed (and half-birthed, since everything in this movie oozes) by David Cronenberg, the film drags the genre’s DNA into new, deliriously revolting territory. Toss in a cast like Jeff Goldblum, Geena Davis, and John Getz, plus a dash of that cold, clinical Cronenberg weirdness, and you get one of the sharpest remakes ever to crawl out of 20th Century Fox—and that’s saying something when the original The Fly (1958) was already a sci-fi classic.

The plot sees eccentric scientist Seth Brundle try to become king of the nerds by warping matter with his “telepods.” Of course, science-gone-wrong is horror’s bread and butter. It isn’t long before poor Seth starts mutating after accidentally merging with a regular old housefly. While most films might step back from pure grotesque, Cronenberg steers directly into it—this isn’t just about losing your humanity; it’s about sloughing it off in bloody clumps.

Honestly, what solidifies The Fly as prime horror filth (in all the best ways: give us those shedding fingernails!) is its makeup FX team. Chris Walas and Stephan Dupuis went so far above and beyond that they snatched an Academy Award for Best Makeup—imagine voting against them after watching Goldblum vomit up digestive enzymes! The word “iconic” barely covers that Oscar.

Let’s not forget Howard Shore’s eerie-as-hell score, either. Before he hit Middle-earth for The Lord of the Rings, Shore imbued this flick with haunting orchestras befitting a love story torn apart by science—and maggot-infested nightmares.

“Be afraid. Be very afraid.” You’ve heard that tagline even if you somehow dodged watching teeth fall out on screen. Pop culture devoured it whole: parody shows like The Simpsons or even throwaway gags in kids’ cartoons have borrowed it shamelessly ever since. The Fly is Body Horror!

 

Hellraiser (1987)

 

Clive Barker’s journey from novelist to legendary horror director is nothing short of spine-tingling. Widely celebrated for his twisted storytelling, Barker has delivered some of the most visceral body horror in literature—earning himself a well-deserved cult following and igniting entire franchises that still thrive today.

His legacy in genre cinema was cemented with Hellraiser (1987), a film that’s not just a fan favourite—it’s practically stitched into the fabric of horror itself. The Cenobites snatched their spot in pop culture almost overnight, and let’s face it: Pinhead is so iconic that you’ll find his grim mug on everything from Halloween costumes to cups and coasters. There’s real meat on the bones here too—Hellraiser isn’t just about gore for gore’s sake; it’s packed full of surrealism, supernatural elements, gut-clenching self-mutilation scenes, plus enough sadomasochism to make Freud sweat.

Not content with tearing the soul apart just once, Barker went on to gift us other cult classics like Nightbreed (1990)—a dark fantasy teeming with misunderstood monsters—and wrote the story behind Candyman (1992), which brought urban legend horrors right into our mirrors and nightmares.

Despite moving into an age ruled by CGI spectres, the practical effects in Hellraiser hold up better than Frank Cotton’s skin suit—they’re gory, inventive, and deliciously tangible. It’s no wonder many call this film Barker’s crowning moment.

 

Akira (1988)

 

Across the Pacific, Japanese cinema was about to detonate like a psychic bomb—and at ground zero stood Akira (1988). This landmark anime drops us straight into the neon-soaked chaos of Neo Tokyo, riding shotgun with Tetsuo and Kaneda, two teens with a penchant for motorbike anarchy. But things take a turn for the grotesque when Tetsuo—long-suffering underdog and professional punching bag—becomes the latest subject in a government experiment gone nightmarishly sideways.

Let’s be honest: giving an emotionally volatile outcast god-like powers is never going to end well. Imagine spending your whole life being trampled on, then suddenly unlocking abilities that let you rip steel apart or disintegrate buildings just by thinking hard enough. Tetsuo’s new skills? Reality-warping telekinesis, super strength, and invulnerability. It’s every bullied kid’s revenge fantasy dialled up to Lovecraftian proportions (with less tentacles… at first).

Akira didn’t just reshape Japanese animation—it slapped Western genre filmmakers awake too. Anyone who loves films like The Matrix (1999) or Chronicle (2012) owes a heavy debt to this kinetic nightmare-fuel masterpiece. Anime went from “kids’ cartoons” to something you had to see for yourself—especially if you’re drawn to the weird side of cinema.

But above all, it’s Akira’s body horror that really gets under your skin. There are invasive hallucinations leaking blood and intestines, mutant flesh run amok, and an ending where Tetsuo essentially becomes a monstrous mass of mutating flesh, engulfing everything—including his own girlfriend—in a tidal wave of pulsing body horror. This is what nightmares look like when they hit puberty.

If you’re not squeamish about guts becoming outsides—or watching dystopian rebellion mutate into full-on bio-abomination—you owe it to yourself to revisit this gory fever dream. Just maybe don’t eat ramen while watching…

 

The Blob (1988)

 

The Blob (1988) is a high point in ‘80s body horror, slathered in some of the most jaw-dropping practical effects of the era. Directed by Chuck Russell and co-written with Frank Darabont, this remake of the classic The Blob (1958) takes the original’s jelly menace and cranks the gore up to eleven.

The plot’s deliciously simple: a meteorite crashes near Arborville, California, unleashing an acidic, ever-growing organism that dissolves everything (and everyone) in its path. Kevin Dillon and Shawnee Smith lead the unlucky townsfolk, with standouts like Donovan Leitch and Jeffrey DeMunn also getting slimed.

FX legend Tony Gardner masterminded the film’s infamous “melting” sequences—watching the Blob squeeze a man through a sink drain is a practical effects masterclass. The creature’s kills are some of the gooiest, most creative on film, with exposed tendons and melting faces that show exactly why CGI still can’t hold a candle to late-‘80s latex and slime..

Where the 1958 original relied on suggestion and bright red dye, the remake’s effects are front and centre—oozing, stretching, and devouring with a level of detail that still makes horror fans squirm. It’s a must-see for lovers of practical gore and body horror, even if it left the box office cold.

 

Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989)

 

After the massive impact—both financial and critical—made by Akira (1988), Japan was ready to crank up the voltage on body horror in live-action form. Along came Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989), a film so gloriously twisted it made rusty metal look fashionable. Shinya Tsukamoto’s nightmarish vision, featuring a man who decides screwing scrap metal directly into his own flesh is a good idea, sent shockwaves through underground cinema. Critics quickly lined up comparisons to David Cronenberg and David Lynch.

From its blisteringly unhinged opening—a guy ramming iron rods into an open wound —to its twisted sex scene and absolutely brutal deaths, Tetsuo hammers every sense into overload. No wonder it became a cult sensation—and cemented Tsukamoto as Japan’s reigning king of metallic mayhem.

Ask any horror fanatic: this film isn’t just legendary in Japanese sci-fi circles; it towers above as arguably the most memorable slice of live-action body horror from Japan. It paved the way for future brutality too—there would be no Tokyo Gore Police (2008) or even the batshit insanity of Meatball Machine (2005) without this grimy masterpiece melting minds before them.

 

Society (1989)

 

Looking for something super twisted? Society (1989) is an outrageous and grotesque satire on class division and social elites, directed by Brian Yuzna. This cult classic takes body horror to bizarre new heights with its shocking “shunting” scenes—where privileged folks (high Society… get it!) literally melt into a writhing mass of flesh and goo during a twisted secret society ritual.

The film stars Billy Warlock as Bill Whitney, a teenager who suspects his wealthy family and their social circle aren’t quite human. What unfolds is a nightmarish blend of social commentary, surreal humor, and visceral practical effects that make your skin crawl and your jaw drop.

Society stands out for pushing boundaries with a mix of campy humor and truly unsettling body horror. The infamous “butt on the face” scene perfectly captures this blend—equal parts shocking, absurd, and darkly hilarious. Its surreal climax remains one of the most memorable and talked-about sequences in the genre, influencing countless filmmakers and gross-out horror fans ever since.

 

Jacob’s Ladder (1990)

 

Director Adrian Lyne usually makes movies about unhealthy romantic relationships, such as Fatal Attraction (1987), Indecent Proposal (1993) and 9½ Weeks (1986). But  in the 90’s, he swerved to the far right and brought us the twisted psychological horror Jacob’s Ladder (1990) a film that became a blueprint for psychological horror, and went on to influence video games and Japanese horror for decades after release.

The story hinges on Jacob Singer, a haunted Vietnam vet whose grip on reality is quickly slipping away. Jolted between memories, hallucinations, and a crumbling New York City where nothing—not even your own eyeballs—can be trusted. The film offers up a gut-punch of an ending that’s as moving as it is unsettling and has to be one of the earliest examples of this type of twist (I don’t want to spoil it for you!)

The infamous “twitching effect”—where faces blur and heads snap around at unnatural speed—was pioneered right here before it plagued our dreams in the Japanese horror wave and games like Silent Hill. In fact, that whole franchise owes more to Jacob’s fever-dream hospital corridors than it does to any other film. Need proof? Just compare the visceral hospital scene in Jacob’s Ladder with just about any grotesque moment in the Silent Hill games, it’s literally all there.

 

Braindead (1992)

 

Long before Peter Jackson whisked audiences away to the sweeping vistas of Middle-earth, he was busy drenching the screen in blood, pus, and bucketloads of zombie gore with his outrageous splatter opus Braindead (1992)—known to a bloodthirsty North American crowd as Dead Alive. Forget orcs and elves: this is a frenzied dance of flesh-munching undead, inventive practical effects, and, yes, one unforgettable lawnmower massacre that would make any gardener wince.

Braindead isn’t just gory—it’s gleefully unhinged. Whether it’s spurting arteries or entire limbs flying across the room like meaty confetti, this film doesn’t just cross the line; it boot-stomps over it while giggling maniacally. It’s no surprise that many horror devotees hail it as possibly the finest splatter flick ever made—take that, Herschell Gordon Lewis!

Despite its later status as a cult darling in circles obsessed with red corn syrup and latex entrails, Braindead was initially a box office dud. The irony here is Its influence on cinema. Without Jackson cutting his teeth on such inappropriate mayhem, we might not have had the ambitious Lord of the Rings trilogy at all! And let’s be honest: can you truly call yourself a horror fan if you haven’t witnessed someone fending off an undead horde with garden equipment?

 

Body Melt (1993)

 

Body Melt (1993) is a sharp satire on suburban lifestyles and fitness fads, blending grotesque horror with dark humor in a uniquely Aussie package. Set in the quiet Melbourne suburb of Homesville, the residents of Pebbles Court receive free dietary supplement pills promising the ultimate healthy human. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, everything. The pills unleash a parade of horrifying and hilarious mutations: liquefying flesh, exploding stomachs and penises, tongues that stretch like party blowouts, tentacles sprouting from faces, sentient placentas, and other body mayhem that would make even the hardiest horror fan squirm and snicker. One poor soul tries to warn the others but ends up getting his throat invaded by tentacles before crashing spectacularly.

As the town’s population rapidly shrinks via bizarre, gory deaths, Body Melt gleefully lampoons the obsession with health crazes while delivering some of the most outrageously creative and disgusting body horror scenes ever committed to celluloid. It’s equal parts shocking, funny, and unapologetically over-the-top—a cult classic that proves sometimes fitness can really kill you.

 

Event Horizon (1997)

 

Borrowing more than just a few oozy drips from Alien (1979), Paul W.S. Anderson’s much-maligned yet utterly unforgettable Event Horizon (1997) proved you don’t need xenomorphs to make skin crawl—just ambitious science, haunted spaceships, and serious twisted body mutilation. While critics sharpened their knives and the box office gave it the cold shoulder, this hellbound rollercoaster now squats comfortably on its bloodied throne as a cult classic—and we’re thanking unspeakable cosmic horrors for that.

The film follows the doomed crew of the Lewis & Clark—and twitchy genius Dr. Weir, summoned to recce the legendary Event Horizon: mankind’s first warp drive ship with a mission of traversing a black hole (what could possibly go wrong?). Naturally, it disappeared and then—years later—bounces back into our dimension. The film then delivers creeping boarding scenes, unsettling messages, unexplained puddles…before you know it everyone’s questioning reality and craving airlock therapy.

And who could forget that montage—the infamous “hell scene”—three seconds of gut-churning mind meat that single-handedly made popcorn fly across living rooms worldwide? Barely in frame but burned forever into retinas. Rumours of extended sequences and white faced censors demanding cuts only help to heighten the film’s popularity.

Cult status didn’t just cement itself through jelly-spined reactions—it kneaded itself deep into the genre’s flesh, helping breathe new terror into space horror. You can thank Event Horizon every time you spot the influences bleeding out in games like Dead Space or movies such as Pandorum (2009); both have queued up for some cosmic sadism from Anderson’s dark banquet.

 

Audition (1999)

 

Japan’s love affair with horror runs deep, never shying away from exploring sights that truly make your skin crawl. In Audition (1999), audiences were given a masterclass in slow-burn terror—a film that still manages to unsettle even the most hardened horror fans today. Director Takashi Miike took the familiar premise of romance and twisted it into something far more sinister, proving just how powerful body horror could be when blended with psychological torment.

This film predates torture-fests like Saw (2004) by several years, but it set the stage for mainstream excitement over shock cinema. Themes of captivity, manipulation, and excruciating violence are woven through every agonising scene (the infamous “kiri kiri kiri!” moment alone has haunted many nightmares). Miike’s unflinching approach didn’t just raise eyebrows—it paved the way for J-Horror’s global boom in the early 2000s and gave us iconic imagery that rivals even western classics like Hellraiser (1987) or The Fly (1986).

 

Cabin Fever (2002)

 

Before Cabin Fever (2002) oozed onto screens, Eli Roth wasn’t exactly a household name among horror fans. But that all changed with his notorious tale of holidaymakers succumbing to a gruesome flesh-eating virus. Set in an isolated cabin—a setting horror buffs know rarely signals a nice relaxing weekend—this film taps directly into our deepest real-world anxieties about infections and outbreaks. Medical disaster meets body horror, with enough gore to have you rethinking your next camping trip.

If you’re looking for early-2000s gross-out classics that shook up the genre, Cabin Fever  definitely paved the way for more “splat pack” films like Hostel (2005) and The Green Inferno (2013), helping cement Eli Roth’s reputation as one of horror’s most fearless—and stomach-turning—directors.

 

Saw (2004)

 

When you talk about modern horror royalty, James Wan stands near the top of the blood-soaked throne. This Malaysian-born Australian director, often sharpening his creative knives alongside Leigh Whannell, has changed the very way we jump out of our seats at the cinema. With classics like Dead Silence (2007), Insidious (2011) and The Conjuring (2013) under his belt, it’s easy to lose track of just how much he’s shaped the face of horror.

But let’s not forget—they kicked in the crypt door with a bang thanks to Saw (2004). That first brutal slice gave us not only Jigsaw and his infernal traps but also ushered in an entirely new trend of body horror for mainstream audiences — giving squeamish viewers a reason to keep their popcorn buckets close… for hiding behind. The impact was seismic: Not only did Saw spawn heaps of sequels, spin-offs and even a video game or two, it turned ‘torture porn’ into a legitimate sub-genre whether fans loved that term or hated it.

 

Slither (2006)

 

Before he was cracking wise across the galaxy in Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), James Gunn was squirming around in the sticky world of body horror with Slither (2006). This gloriously gooey outing throws an alien parasite into a sleepy American town and lets it run riot, oozing its way through flesh, relationships, and every practical effect in sight. 

Slither’s mutant transformations are pure love letters to classic body horror. Fans will immediately spot nods to films such as From Beyond (1986) and Shivers (1975). Both those films and Slither push human biology into demented new shapes—tentacles, pustules, and all sorts of unmentionable appendages—you could just about smell the latex through your screen! If you’re wondering where Gunn learned to balance splatter with sharp comedy, look no further than this early effort.

 

The Human Centipede (First Sequence) (2009)

 

You might want to slip on some latex gloves—The Human Centipede (First Sequence) (2009) is up for dissection. This one’s a black sheep at the family dinner table of horror enthusiasts. Most fans try to bury this title under a stack of Universal Monster DVDs, but there’s no denying its stain on the genre.

Thanks to Tom Six, we got an idea so repulsive and bizarre, it instantly carved itself into pop culture history without ever trying to be “good.” And yes, while polite society scrambles to never speak of it openly, the undeniable waves it caused led directly to two sequels that dialled up the nonsense even further.

Like it or not, you’ll find references everywhere: parodies in TV shows (South Park did their take), discussions in late-night talk shows, and countless reaction videos plastered across YouTube—the kind where grown adults shriek and dry-heave.

For all its controversy, The Human Centipede inspired filmmakers to push boundaries (sometimes far past sensible limits). It also raised debates about how far horror cinema can—or should—go for shock value. Hated? Yes. Forgotten? Never. If you need a palate cleanser after this cinematic ordeal, Audition (1999) and Martyrs (2008) offer equally shocking thrills without quite as much… surgical creativity.

 

Under the Skin (2013)

 

Art house horrors always pull in those film buffs who get their kicks from the weird, wild, and wonderful. Thanks to low budgets and next-to-no studio interference, indie films often go places big studios are too chicken to venture. Under the Skin (2013) absolutely shocked audiences in the best way possible: here’s Scarlett Johansson as a mysterious alien cruising dark Scottish streets for unsuspecting men—and what she does to them is deeply unsettling.

This isn’t just your run-of-the-mill “woman on the prowl” thriller. This is body horror meets sci-fi fever dream, with a side helping of existential dread. It’s dripping in surreal vibes that’ll make you question just how comfortable you are in your own fleshy prison. Jonathan Glazer, director of Sexy Beast (2000), masterminds every unnerving frame.

And you may just spot the nods to a few classics! Those minimalist visuals recall 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), while chilling moments harken back to David Lynch’s work like Eraserhead (1977)—creepy isolation and relentless oddness included!

If you want a film that takes body horror seriously—cheers for joining us at this table—all while poking at what makes us human (or not), Under the Skin deserves your undivided eyeballs.

 

The Void (2016)

 

The Void (2016) is a glorious, gore-soaked love letter to everything that makes body horror squirm under your skin. If you’re a fan of grotesque transformations, practical effects, and cultish weirdness, this one’s practically essential viewing. Directed by Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie, the film conjures up a nightmare that feels like someone spliced together Hellraiser (1987) and The Thing (1982) during a particularly bad fever dream.

Set in a nearly abandoned hospital, the story kicks off with a police officer, Daniel Carter, stumbling into what should have been a routine night shift—only to find himself surrounded by mysterious cloaked figures and eldritch horrors lurking in the shadows. The film doesn’t waste time before throwing in skin-crawling mutations; expect plenty of tentacles, melting flesh, and bodies that twist and break the laws of anatomy.

One of the film’s standout features is its dedication to practical effects. No CGI cop-outs here—just lovingly crafted latex monstrosities that ooze, writhe, and burst in ways that would make David Cronenberg proud. It’s clear the filmmakers were influenced by the golden age of body horror, pulling inspiration from classics like From Beyond (1986) and Re-Animator (1985).

If you’re squeamish about blood, guts, or the idea of your body rebelling against you in the most monstrous way possible, consider this your warning. But if you’re a horror fan hungry for cosmic dread and transformative terror, The Void is a must-watch.

 

Swallow (2019)

 

Body horror enjoyed a busy revival in the 2010/2020’s, and few films encapsulate that better than Swallow (2019), as a new aged style body horror. Directed by Carlo Mirabella-Davis, this unnerving psychological thriller zeroes in on Hunter Conrad—played with haunting precision by Haley Bennet—a pregnant housewife whose reality unravels as she develops an obsession with swallowing household objects. We’re not talking the odd coin here and there; we’re talking marbles, batteries, even thumbtacks. If your insides are wincing already, you’re not alone.

Inspired by the very real eating disorder known as Pica, where people consume non-food items, Swallow manages to blend genuine empathy with outright squirm-inducing body horror. The tension skyrockets as Hunter’s choices get more dangerous and her isolation deepens—a modern twist on the “mad woman in the attic” trope but served up for a contemporary audience who like their horror with a dash of psycho-social commentary.

It’s worth mentioning that body horror aficionados will spot echoes of classics like Crash (1996) or Possession (1981), where self-destruction becomes a spectacle both intimate and terrifying. However, unlike the splatter-filled entries in the genre such as The Fly (1986) or Society (1989), Swallow keeps things disturbingly clinical and quiet—the kind of film where you find yourself half-watching through your fingers.

 

Possessor (2020)

 

Possessor (2020) is the twisted brainchild of Brandon Cronenberg—yes, the son of David Cronenberg. You’ll spot an impressive cast here: Andrea Riseborough delivers a haunting performance as Tasya Vos, an elite assassin who uses some extremely invasive technology to jack into people’s minds and pilot their bodies to carry out assassinations. Her latest assignment finds her stuck inside Colin Tate (played with unnerving fragility by Christopher Abbott), and from there… things get deliciously messy.

Amongst its neon-lit nightmares, Possessor ramps up the body horror as only a Cronenberg can. We’re talking graphic violence that’ll make you wince and grin at the same time. Dismemberment? Oh yes! Blood? By the gallons! And don’t forget a little psychological trauma for seasoning. There’s even a glorious cameo from genre royalty: Sean Bean, once again proving that no matter what film or TV series he appears in, his character’s odds of surviving aren’t great (for further proof see Game of Thrones , The Lord of the Rings, and countless others).
What sets Possessor apart isn’t just its gore—it’s how seamlessly it blends near-future sci-fi tech nightmares with good old-fashioned identity breakdowns and visceral shocks. If you ever thought your job was stressful, try sharing headspace with someone while planning a murder.

 

Titane (2021)

 

Titane (2021) is directed by the fearless Julia Ducournau, whose flair for jaw-dropping cinema knows no bounds. The story centres on Agathe Rousselle’s character, Alexia—whose head injury during childhood led to a titanium plate and, let’s be honest, some pretty messed up urges. If you’ve ever wanted a crash course in how to make audiences squirm, look no further: there’s stabbing, bone-crunching violence, impromptu abortion scenes, and enough blood and fire to stock an entire season of American Horror Story. Meanwhile, we follow a grieving firefighter named Vincent (played with staggering intensity by Vincent Lindon), whose desperate search for his missing son entangles him in Alexia’s razor-sharp orbit.

Fans of body horror will recognise Ducournau’s signature touch from her earlier film Raw (2016)—another French masterclass that does for vegetarianism what Jaws (1975) did for beach holidays. But don’t expect your garden-variety Cronenberg tribute act here. Both Titane and Raw inject fresh DNA into the genre: think psychological unease and coming-of-age drama fused seamlessly with graphic physical transformation.

Sure, David Cronenberg might have made car fetishisation horrifying in Crash (1996), but only Ducournau could take things this far over the line—and make it meaningful. She’s not just splattering the screen with gore; she explores identity, longing, grief and love beneath all that twisted metal and broken bone.

 

Malignant (2021)

 

Malignant (2021), directed by the unstoppable James Wan, is an absolute love letter to body horror – and it’s dripping with enough gore, broken bones, and surgical nightmares to satisfy even the most hardened genre fans. Annabelle Wallis stars as Madison Mitchell, a woman whose tragic past and time spent in a research hospital haunt her in more ways than just memories. Madison isn’t just traumatised; she’s plagued by intense, graphic visions of murder that blur the line between reality, nightmare, and waking life.

It’s hard not to grin maniacally as Wan ticks every box on the gruesome checklist: we get brutal murders, gnarly fight scenes, medical horror galore, and enough bloodshed to make even Cronenberg raise an eyebrow. In short: if you like your horror with a side of what-the-hell-am-I-watching, Malignant delivers.

Wan’s fingerprints are all over this twisted masterpiece. His knack for tense pacing amps up every chilling sequence here. But what really makes Wan stand out is how he injects fun into the carnage—this isn’t horror that wallows in misery; it practically revels in its own madness. And fans noticed: while critics were split at release, horror lovers quickly started hailing it as a modern cult favourite.

 

Crimes of the Future (2022)

 

You can’t have a conversation about body horror in the 21st century without bringing up David Cronenberg. The master of flesh is back at it with Crimes of the Future (2022), showcasing Viggo Mortensen as Saul Tenser—a performance artist who, alongside his partner Caprice (Léa Seydoux), turns human biology into their stage. In this unnerving vision of the future, surgery isn’t just medical necessity—it’s high art, and Saul’s constantly-mutating organs are the main attraction for eager audiences.

It’s hard to overstate how much Crimes of the Future grabs hold of body horror’s slippery entrails and refuses to let go. There’s no attempt at sugar-coating or genre-blending here—just pure, unflinching Cronenbergian weirdness. If you’re looking for the spiritual successor to The Fly (1986), Videodrome (1983), or even that seat-shuffling spectacle Crash (1996)—congratulations, you’ve found it.

 

Men (2022)

 

When it comes to modern folk horror, few films have unsettled audiences quite like Men (2022). Directed by Alex Garland, and delivered by the powerhouse that is A24, this movie injects classic countryside creepiness with a healthy dose of visceral body horror. At its core, we follow Jessie Buckley as Harper—a woman seeking respite in the pastoral heart of England after suffering a devastating personal tragedy. Of course, in grand horror tradition, her peaceful escape quickly morphs into something far more nightmarish thanks to some very peculiar happenings in the woods.

What makes Men especially fascinating is Garland’s blend of unnerving folklore and truly grotesque body horror—think David Cronenberg meets The Wicker Man (1973) on acid. Garland’s no stranger to pushing genres; film fiends may know him for his chilling sci-fi debut Ex Machina (2015) or his apocalyptic war epic Civil War (2024), both also under A24’s ever-bloodstained banner.

And let’s be honest—body horror is a tricky subgenre to nail without leaning into cheap shocks or over-the-top gore. But when it works, oof—it worms its way right under your skin. Much like classics such as The Thing (1982) or Possession (1981), Men turns the human form into something unsettlingly unfamiliar. It’s almost poetic how Garland uses physical transformation as a metaphor for trauma—because nothing says “emotional turmoil” quite like a face splitting open.

On top of all that, you’ve got those rich mythic undertones that elevate the experience—think ancient villages hiding dark secrets (shout out to Kill List (2011)!), and seemingly lush landscapes masking evil intent.

For bona fide fans hungry for skin-crawling originality interwoven with age-old fears, this one sticks around long after the credits roll… probably hiding behind a tree somewhere just outside your window.

 

The Substance (2024)

 

Fans of gory, satirical body horror have been well fed recently: The Substance (2024), directed by Coralie Fargeat, flexes every muscle of the genre—oozing with prosthetics, fierce social commentary, and gallons (literally 5,500 US gallons) of fake blood. The plot drips with dark irony: ageing TV star Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) gets kicked off her long-running aerobics show for being “past it”, then turns to a nightmare chemical shortcut promising youth. Enter black market drug “The Substance”, and out bursts a new version of herself: young, pink-leotarded Sue (Margaret Qualley). If you’re getting flashes of Death Becomes Her (1992) or wild Cronenbergian transformations—spot on! But Fargeat leans in hard with her own feminist scalpel, slicing deeper into the hellish double standards women face in Hollywood.

The film’s grotesque—and strangely beautiful—practical effects would make even Rick Baker proud. Prosthetic genius Pierre-Olivier Persin handled over a year’s worth of monstrosities: back-splitting birthing scenes that would make even fans of Society (1989) need to pause for breath; twitching aged fingers; and the monstrous “Monstro Elisasue,” stitched together like some Picasso-hued nightmare.

Mubi rolled the dice as distributor after Universal got cold feet (allegedly worried about too much blood or maybe just lacking backbone). Turns out Mubi was right—the film shattered their previous box office records, netting about $77-82 million globally on an $18 million budget. Demi Moore stepped up with more guts than her character ever managed—racking up Golden Globe, Critics’ Choice and SAG wins along with an Oscar nomination buzzing through her already legendary career.

The Substance is jammed full of references true horror fans will gobble up: there are echoes here not only from Cronenberg’s The Fly (1986) but also from Lynchian nightmares (Mulholland Drive) and plastic Hollywood satire (Showgirls (1995)…imagine Showgirls via Re-Animator’s lab). You can practically taste the John Carpenter influence during some of those practical goo-fests—a rare thing now most horror films go digital for dismemberment.

Fargeat made smart choices everywhere—like filming in France to cash in on art-tax breaks while tricking us into thinking we were under relentless LA sunshine. She storyboarded every squishy transformation shot for maximum splatter and shock. And designing entire sets from scratch? That’s old-school craftsmanship seldom seen since the heyday of Hammer or Italian Euro-horror.

What truly elevates The Substance isn’t just its rivers-of-gore FX; it’s that sharp stab at beauty standards and self-destruction lurking under glitzy surfaces—a theme familiar to anyone who loves Carrie (1976) or Dorian Gray tales turned inside-out.

For anyone still questioning if body horror can stomp its way into mainstream accolades? Well, this sticky, punchy monster flick bagged Best Makeup at the Oscars—not bad for a movie where one scene required waterproofing a whole theatre set against tsunami-grade blood showers. “Pink noir” has never looked so good—or so gloriously disgusting.