The Best Black and White Horror Movies

There’s just something about black and white movies, isn’t there? We can’t put a finger on what makes them so good exactly—maybe it’s the stark, simple color contrast, the way actors’ faces become so shadowed and determined-looking as they’re saying their lines, or the sheer creepiness factor of seeing a movie bleached of all color whatsoever.

What exactly attracts us and keeps us watching black-and-white movies doesn’t matter—the simple answer being that we just are. And really, there’s nothing scarier or better than a black-and-white horror movie compared to a normal film. (For example, imagine how much more terrifying Alien or The Exorcist would play in black-and-white.)

For this list, we decided to look at some of the best black-and-white films ever released. To avoid this list becoming a collection of “classic” horror movies that everyone knows—the Universal classics like Dracula and Frankenstein, for instance—we opted to look at films released across numerous decades and from various countries, to see which films were the best and scariest that we recommend checking out.

Psycho

Arguably Alfred Hitchock’s best film (certainly his most well-known), Psycho broke the rules when it came to the topics you could discuss and explore in film, and also what you could show to audiences on screen.

Nowadays, Psycho may be fairly tame by today’s standards, but for its time, it showed things no other director was brave enough to depict. As iconic as any Hitchcock movie ever released, the film is likely to remain forever associated with the Master of Suspense, with many of his most noteworthy directorial trademarks all present in this film (blonde female leads, a MacGuffin moving the plot forward, an air of mystery that finally unravels in the last act).

Not only is Psycho commonly ranked as one of the greatest horror movies of all time, it also contains one of the scariest, frequently parodied sequences in all of film—the infamous shower scene, featuring that equally classic, electrifying musical score by Hitchcock’s legendary collaborator, Bernard Herrmann.

Eraserhead

In a film that lacks any conventional premise, Eraserhead follows the story of Henry Spencer (Jack Nance), a factory worker in an otherworldly, dystopian city who finds out that his girlfriend has given birth to an alien-like baby whose nonstop wailing drives the couple to the brink of insanity.

If that plot sounds weird, it’s nothing compared to the actual film itself. One of the foremost and well-known surrealist movies in modern cinema, Eraserhead refuses to obey any traditional narrative storytelling methods, instead moving along from bizarre episode to bizarre episode, each featuring surreal imagery and characters that you’d expect to see in a night terror you’re unable to wake up from.

Lynch’s debut film, Eraserhead remains a wholly original movie bursting with creativity and experimental vision, pushing the boundaries for mainstream American surrealism in film and showing things that audiences had never seen before or since.

Carnival of Souls

Speaking of Lynch, this extremely innovative, early independent horror movie offered audiences an alternative kind of movie unlike any they had seen before.

Carnival of Souls tells the story of a young woman (Candace Hilligoss) trying to get her life back together after a horrific car accident nearly kills her. As she tries to readjust to life in a new city, she finds herself being relentlessly pursued by a mysterious pale man whom only she is able to see.

Though not very well-known upon its release, the film has since grown to become one of the most influential cult horror movies of all time. Instead of utilizing audacious special effects, the film’s director, Herk Harvey, relied on several distinct filmmaking techniques, including a unique array of shots and camera angles, black-and-white cinematography, and an eerie soundtrack to create a taut, suspenseful atmosphere throughout.

The film would go on to inspire numerous filmmakers over the years from Lynch to George A. Romero, becoming known for its minimalist storyline and inexpensive approach to filmmaking. Incredibly, nearly fifty years after its release, the movie still holds up to this day, especially in its visuals—it looks like an indie film that was made last year, not in 1962.

The Haunting

This 1963 adaptation of Shirley Jackson’s now-classic psychological horror novel, The Haunting of Hill House, is perhaps one of the most genuinely ahead-of-its-time movies of its day.

In an adaptation that faithfully follows the original source material, The Haunting tells the story of a small group of individuals who spend the night at a supposedly haunted New England mansion, led by a paranormal scientist (Richard Johnson) trying to find proof of the supernatural.

Seeing from the increasingly anxious eyes of the unstable Nell, the audience is never exactly sure if what they’re seeing is a hallucination or not, making you question every little detail presented in the film. The foreboding tone and psychological horror aspect of the film paved the way for later movies that similarly explored a more introspective aspect of horror with characters growing increasingly paranoid and uncertain of their situation or surroundings (you can easily see the influence it had on films like Rosemary’s Baby and The Shining).

Opening to a mixed reception initially, the film’s reputation has since grown significantly, with legendary filmmaker and cinephile Martin Scorsese naming it one of the scariest movies he’s ever seen.

A Field in England

A psychological horror movie set during the English Civil War, A Field in England follows a small group of army deserters fleeing the aftermath of a violent battle. Their flight is soon interrupted by the arrival of an Irish wizard (Michael Smiley) who forces the group to search a nearby field for an enigmatic buried treasure, using physical and verbal threats, magic, religious fervor, and “magic” mushrooms to make them do his bidding.

Like many films on this list, A Field in England is unlike any movie you’re likely to ever see. Psychedelic and odd, it’s a film where literally anything can happen at any time (in his introduction, the group seemingly pulls the Irish wizard straight out of the ground using a rope). The largely unknown English cast all offer fantastic performances—especially Smiley’s hostile Pagan wizard, as well as Reece Shearsmith’s Christian priest, the film’s main character, the wizard’s religious foil, and the moral center of the story.

Wheatley’s black-and-white cinematography also heightens the tension and eerie tone of the film, with the entire second half literally feeling like some sort of color-neutral bad drug trip (which, incidentally, it is). It’s an incredibly well-rounded movie, full of great direction, staging, writing, and acting, and one you’re unlikely to forget any time soon.

Eyes Without a Face

Adopting a fairly stereotypical-sounding, mad scientist-type horror story, Eyes Without a Face follows a plastic surgeon (Pierre Brasseur) tirelessly attempting to replace the face of his young daughter, Christiane (Édith Scob), who was horrifically injured in a car accident. Desperate and running out of options, the surgeon soon begins abducting young women he believes resemble Christiane, stealing their faces and attempting to transplant them onto his daughter’s.

From that plot alone, you’d likely expect some sort of gory, campy slasher. Though the film does contain some disturbing images (the scenes involving plastic surgery remain extremely shocking, thanks largely to the realistic effects), the movie is also framed with plenty of emotional beauty and complexity. Such is especially the case with the presence of the sweet, innocent Christiane, who appears throughout the movie almost as a benevolent ghost, complete with an angelic, expressional mask that hides her face.

Upon its release, Eyes Without a Face divided critics, some hailing it as a masterpiece and others panning it for its graphic imagery. The movie’s reputation has subsequently grown, however, soon becoming a major influence on other filmmakers like Edgar Wright and Pedro Almodóvar’s The Skin I Live In (which follows an extremely similar plot). Years later, Christiane’s mask would even inspire the physical appearance of Michael Myers in the Halloween franchise.

The Lighthouse

Like many other films on this list (A Field in England, Eraserhead, Carnival of Souls), there’s no other movie quite as off-the-walls insane as The Lighthouse. 

Robert Eggers’ 2019 followup to his critically acclaimed debut, The Witch, The Lighthouse follows two lighthouse keepers (Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe) stationed on a mysterious, remote island off the coast of 1890s’ New England.  On the surface, The Lighthouse feels like The Shining meets Herman Melville, offering a wholly different, completely chaotic illustration of cabin fever and two men’s descent into madness.

Eggers had previously proved himself a master of period pieces with The Witch, and more than managed to shift his style and interest in historical time periods from 1630s’ New England to the 1890s. What’s more, his black-and-white cinematography captured an unusual, almost Florence Henri-esque eeriness about the wave-pounded New England setting of the film.

Pattinson and Dafoe both bring an absurd level of energy to the film, and manage to maintain it by continuously playing off the other’s performance (you’ll never see a more hostile, friendly, straightforwardly aggressive “friendship” in any other movie).

Night of the Living Dead

Night of the Living Dead‘s importance cannot be understated. Put simply, it set the stage for the entire zombie mythology as we know it today, establishing many tropes associated with the genre and forever changing both horror and the cinematic landscape of filmmaking as a result.

George A. Romero’s first breakout success, Night of the Living Dead follows a diverse collection of people fighting off hordes of the undead in the middle of a quiet countryside. Using a minuscule budget (around $114,000) and a largely unknown cast of actors, Romero managed to craft a distinctly claustrophobic survival story that utilized its minimal setting perfectly (the bulk of the movie takes place in the abandoned farmhouse the characters establish as their safe-haven).

Though it initially received little coverage upon its release in 1968, it soon became known through word-of-mouth recommendations among the midnight movie community, eventually becoming a cult classic. The film, and Romero’s subsequent sequels, Dawn of the Dead and Day of the Dead, have since been credited with creating the basis for the modern zombie film, with its influence plainly seen in every zombie movie that followed.

The Night of the Hunter

The plot of the film—faithfully adapted by Pulitzer Prize-winner James Agee from the novel of the same name by Davis Grubbs—focuses on a morally corrupt serial killer masquerading as a wholesome reverend (Robert Mitchum in easily his best role) who tricks a woman into marrying him so that he can find $10,000 hidden by her deceased husband. Unfortunately for him, the only one who knows where the money is really located are actually his new wife’s two children, who seem to recognize the reverend for the monster he really is.

Iconic actor Charles Laughton’s first and only directorial effort, this amazing thriller has gone on to achieve near-universal acclaim since its release, with the French film magazine, Cahiers du Cinéma, ranking it the second greatest film ever made, right behind Citizen Kane. 

Combining lighting reminiscent of classic Hollywood noir films and shadow-heavy German expressionist films of the ’20s, somewhat surreal imagery, a hauntingly beautiful score, and Southern iconography, Laughton creates a film that feels more like a fairy tale set within a Southern Gothic story.

It’s one of the most ingeniously made movies ever made, full of impressive, dreamlike images and music that have gone on to inspire everyone from Guillermo del Toro to Exorcist director William Friedkin to indie auteur Nicolas Winding Refn. It’s a movie so well-made, it’ll leave you legitimately upset that Laughton never directed another feature after this incredible debut.

Cat People

One of the first psychological horror movies in modern cinema, Cat People follows a Serbian émigré (Simone Simon) in New York who begins to believe that—because of an ancient curse on her family—she will turn into a panther if she is intimate with her husband (Kent Smith).

From that plot description, it’s easy to dismiss Cat People as one of the many campy B horror movies to come out of the 40s and 50s, but Tourneur’s direction and framing—including a heavy reliance on using darkness and shadows and long periods of silence during extremely tense sequences—made for a suspenseful film that managed to separate itself from the more mediocre films of that period.

While the reviews for the film were initially mixed, subsequent reevaluations have been much more generous, praising Cat People for its atmosphere and early exploration of psychological horror, earning a distinction as being the forebearer for later films like Rosemary’s Baby. Interestingly, it’s also one of the first movies to use a “jump scare.”