'70s Horror Movies You Need To Watch

The 1970s were a terrific time for horror, especially if you like your films ambitious. This decade offered impressive variety in terms of pacing, style, and subject matter, and it produced far more than its share of masterpieces. Some were instantly influential, while others took a longer time to percolate in the cultural subconscious but are, in retrospect, just as awe-inspiring.

It's easy to see why the horror films of this time stand out as being especially brilliant. The genre was strongly affected by the end of the more idealistic '60s. As Karina Wilson of Horror Film History explains, "By 1970, the party was over; the Manson family killed the California hippie dream, the Beatles split, Janis and Jimi died, and it was downhill all the way from there." As the '70s rolled around, things just got worse with Watergate, Kent State, and the escalating conflict in Vietnam. But as Wilson puts it, "Fortunately, when society goes bad, horror films get good." That may be an unusually dark silver lining, but hey, we're horror fans. We like it dark.

Released in 1974, the atmospheric and well-crafted "Black Christmas" is one of the earliest slasher movies, coming even before John Carpenter's genre-defining "Halloween." It might not have made the same splash as some of its successors, but it's an incredible film that's aged extraordinarily well.

Olivia Hussey stars as Jess, whose sorority house has been plagued with sinister, obscene phone calls. (These are already enough to make our skin crawl.) We quickly learn that the caller is dangerous when he attacks one of the girls and suffocates her with a plastic bag. But "Black Christmas" stands head-and-shoulders above a lot of slashers by not just turning into a parade of kills at this point. Instead, it lets twists and complications build up the dark suspense.

Everything about "Black Christmas" works. The cast is spectacular, featuring not only Olivia Hussey but also Margot Kidder, Keir Dullea, and horror favorite John Saxon. The sorority house residents are vividly and poignantly characterized and have layered relationships with each other, resulting in one of the subtly feminist classics of horror. It's sublimely horrifying, from the excruciating phone calls to the glimpse of a bulging eyeball to the haunting ending.

"Dawn of the Dead" takes all the chilling zombie terror of "Night of the Living Dead" and adds a dose of vicious, potent satire. The result is unforgettable. In this 1978 sequel, the world is largely failing to grapple with the ongoing zombie crisis. Violence, militarization, and ruthless selfishness run rampant. In the midst of all this, a handful of survivors take refuge in — where else? — the mall.

Director George Romero's criticism of consumerism has real teeth, but "Dawn of the Dead" never has trouble combining that intellectual approach with emotion and visceral scares. The apocalyptic angle — advanced from the original film's single night of distress — gives us a grim look at how quickly and thoroughly the world can fall apart and how hard it is to hold onto some internal sense of civilization when the outer trappings are all crumbling. Plus, great makeup and gore work give the film some indelible visuals that range from comedic to horrifying ... and sometimes it hits both notes at the same time.

Even in hindsight, knowing exactly how great a director Steven Spielberg would prove himself to be, it's almost unbelievable that "Duel" was his first full-length feature. Absolutely nothing about it feels amateurish. It's a masterful, gripping horror-thriller made with incredible confidence — and all on a Movie-of-the-Week budget.

David Mann (Dennis Weaver) is on a long drive through the desert, destined to spend hours cramped up in his car. He passes a seemingly dilapidated semi-truck ... and the trucker decides to kill him. What follows is a grueling but adrenaline-filled cat-and-mouse game across the mostly desolate Mojave — one that we're destined to remember every time a truck starts following us a little too closely. It's completely believable that road rage could mutate into something this determined and persistent, and why shouldn't a serial killer use a truck as his weapon?

"Duel" has fantastic cinematography and a great, gritty sense of Americana, but its biggest draw is its relentless sense of tension. Once you start watching, it's almost impossible to pause.

Regan — a happy, healthy girl with a mostly settled life — undergoes a rapid and troubling decline in William Friedkin's "The Exorcist." The resulting film is one of the most famous horror movies ever made, and it lives up to its reputation. 

The steady, sure pacing brings the audience forward step by inexorable step, leading even the most skeptical viewers to the demonic truth in a way that feels frighteningly plausible. The dual performance of Linda Blair — as Regan, the truly frightened and all-too-vulnerable child — and Mercedes McCambridge — the voice of the demon dwelling inside her — will forever be seared into our minds. Blair and McCambridge are only the most memorable parts of a stellar cast, one where even the most minor of supporting actors bring depth and texture to their roles. 

And, of course, the movie provides plenty of truly nightmarish horror, with its iconic images including everything from pea soup vomit to eerie sights like Regan's body slowly rising into the air.

No matter how many times we learn that sharks seldom attack people, rewatching "Jaws" makes us newly afraid to go into the ocean. Who knows what could be down there?

From start to finish, "Jaws" is basically a flawless film, one that blends horror, adventure, and likable and nuanced characters so well that it seems effortless. Roy Scheider stars as Martin Brody, the put-upon police chief of the beach town of Amity. When a shark fatally mauls a young woman, Brody wants to close down the beaches, but the mayor (Murray Hamilton) has his eye on the bottom line: Amity needs those summer tourist dollars too badly to shut down their town's main attraction. Needless to say, more carnage ensues, and soon, all hands are on deck for a shark hunt. Brody reluctantly sets sail with oceanologist Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) and veteran fisherman Quint (Robert Shaw), determined to eliminate the threat and keep Amity safe.

By keeping the shark mostly off-screen for nearly the entire film, "Jaws" builds almost unbearable suspense — aided by one of the best and most foreboding themes in the movies. This is man vs. monster terror at its finest. Beautifully plotted, perfectly shot, and charismatically acted, "Jaws" is the ultimate summer blockbuster.

"The Stepford Wives" is a gem, deftly juggling both its horror and its satire — and making sure both have plenty of power and bite.

The movie has an incredibly strong cast, with Katharine Ross giving an especially powerful performance as Joanna Eberhart. Joanna, a gifted photographer, moves to Stepford, Connecticut, with her husband and two children, but the move is a dispiriting one. For all the peace and quiet the seemingly idyllic Stepford offers, something is terribly wrong here. Almost all the women glide around in flowing dresses, offering cheerful and vacuous smiles as they endlessly discuss housework and their devotion to their husbands, who spend much of their time holed up at the Men's Association, which Joanna's own husband quickly joins. Joanna does make a few friends among the handful of women who still have their own interests and personalities, but the creeping trouble of Stepford soon overtakes them too. Joanna is terrified, and so are we.

The anxieties "The Stepford Wives" explores — is your partner really supportive, or does he secretly wish you would act differently? — are still all present and accounted for, and they've seldom been explored better or more incisively than they are here.

Don't watch "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" while eating, but do watch "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" because this gritty 1974 horror film is one of the best around. (But we still think "chainsaw" is one word.)

When some rural Texas cemeteries are hit by a rash of vandalism, Sally (Marilyn Burns) and her brother, Franklin (Paul A. Pertain), decide to make sure their grandfather's grave remains undisturbed. It could be a bleak errand, but they've brought along some friends, and it's turned into a kind of laid-back road trip instead. Until, that is, they pick up the wrong hitchhiker. This nameless young man — played with live-wire energy by Edwin Neal — quickly reveals that both he and this part of the countryside are characterized by a kind of drifting, unsettled violence. The slaughterhouse layoffs have created a kind of angry turmoil ... and Sally is about to be thrown into the middle of it. It's a welter of brutality, cannibalism, filth, secrets, and gothic family relationships.

Plenty of horror films scare us, but "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" very nearly stands alone in terrorizing us so much that we, like its heroine, are left in a state of slightly delirious exhaustion. There isn't much on-screen gore here at all, but the nightmarish and perversely matter-of-fact suggestions of it are bad enough.