Greatest Science Fiction, Fantasy & Horror Films: The Borderland

By: Steve Biodrowski
Date: Sunday, March 05, 2000

An addendum to our list of Greatest Science Fiction, Horror and Fantasy Films: Among the finalists were several titles that failed to receive high votes across the board despite being highly regarded by almost all the voters. The reason was not any doubt as to the quality of the films in question but rather doubt as to whether they truly qualified as genre films. They had been nominated because they have at least some element of science fiction, fantasy, or horror, but not everyone could agree that the connection was strong enough to warrant inclusion in a list of the best the genre has to offer. Rather than getting lost in debate over the definition of what is or isn't science fiction, fantasy, and/or horror, we moved these films into a separate category, which we like to call the Borderland: those films that don't clearly fall into genre territory but which are close enough to be of interest to genre fans.

APOCALYPSE NOW (1979). Sure, it's a war movie, but Stephen King called it one of the best horror films of 1979 (a year which also saw ALIEN and DAWN OF THE DEAD), so who are we to argue? The Vietnams setting is really an excuse to delve deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness, and Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brandon) is a walking embodiment of 'the horror, the horror' into which a human being can sink

BLUE VELVET (1986). David Lynch's mystery-thriller pokes beneath the rocks of small-town American, turning up as that is ugly and disturbing as any horror film. Dennis Hoppers portrayal helps create one of the screen's most memorable menaces--as horrible as any outright monster.

DISCREET CHARM OF THE BOURGEOISIE (1972). Luis Bunuel's surreal comedy of manners is not an outright fantasy, but it's based on an extremely unlikely string of improbabilities, which continually thwart the lead character's attempts to perform that most basic of social functions: a pleasant dinner together. Mixed in are numerous dream-fantasy sequences. In one, the characters at last sit down to dinner, only to find they are eating prop food--and then the curtain rises, revealing they are on stage, in a play for which none of them know the lines. Even more memorable is 'Bloody Sergeant's Night,' in which the ghost of a vicious police officer returns to atone for his sins in life by freeing prisoners from the jail where once he worked. A wonderful satirical film, and surprisingly accessible for a foreign-language art house effort.

81/2 (1963). Federico Fellini's semi-autobiographical tale, about a filmmaker afraid he has nothing left to say, mixes fantasy sequences with reality to delirious effect (we're often unsure whether what we're seeing is a scene from the film-within-a-film or a scene from life that will inspire a scene in the film-within-a-film) A wonderful film, and that scene with Marcello Mastroianni, Barbara Steele, and a whip is something to see..


GOLDFINGER (1964). This, the third in the James Bond films series, set the style for all the films to follow: big, bold, over-the-top, colorful, exciting, and imaginative. Sean Connery is at his finest as 007, stopping a plan by Auric Goldfinger (Gert Frobe) to nuke Fort Knox's gold supply. Often imitated, never equaled.

HAMLET (1948). The Ghost of Hamlet's father walks in only a few scenes, but the stark black-and-white photography and almost Gothic-expressionistic sets lend a wonderfully moody feel to Laurence Olivier's film, which remains the best cinematic adaptation of Shakespeare's play.

THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME (1939). This historical epic is often lumped in with classic horror films, no doubt because of the misshapen title character. There is little resembling genuine horror in the film, and Quasimodo is really a monster only in the eyes of others, but the classic 'beauty-and-the-beast' theme resonates strongly, and the bell ringer's final words, spoken to a gargoyle, are heart-rending: 'Why was I not made of stone like thee?'

KISS ME, DEADLY (1955). Robert Aldrich's film noir swerves onto a tangent in its final act, transforming into a weird piece of science fiction involving a nameless critical mass of nuclear energy that just may threaten the world. One of the great private eye films ever made, with Ralph Meeker perfectly embodying Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer, and it's just too much fun when the whole thing turns into THE OUTER LIMITS at the end.

THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (1962). John Frankenheimer's film is essentially a political assassination thriller involving brainwashing, but some surreal hypnosis sequences push it toward genre territory, and it's story of a seemingly innocent looking young man (Lawrence Harvey) with hidden homicidal intent echoes PSYCHO in some ways. (Janet Leigh is on hand, just to drive the point home.) Not exactly horror, but terrifying nonetheless.

MANHUNTER (1986). This predecessor to SILENCE OF THE LAMBS is superior in many ways. Brian Cox is somehow more convincing than Anthony Hopkins as the mad psychiatrist known as Hannibal the Cannibal: there's something insinuating in his manner that makes you think a patient might actually lie down on the couch and free-associate (it's difficult to imagine anyone ever spending five minutes alone in a room with Hopkins' version). And the story of an FBI agent (William Petersen) who tracks killers by identifying with them--even thinking like them--stirs up some pretty disturbing undertones, moving this away from a police procedural and toward being a horror movie.

THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME (a.k.a. THE HOUNDS OF ZAROFF). The opening scenes tease with suggestive hints of possible horror; even when the plot turns out to be a straight ahead thriller about a maniac who hunts men ('the most dangerous game'), the settings and atmosphere continue to suggest a horror film (if the jungle sequences suggest KING KONG, there's a reason: they were shot on the same sets!). Leslie Banks is a wonderfully over-the-top villain, and Faye Wray does her damsel-in-distress routine to perfection.

PEEPING TOM (1960). Michael Powell's disturbing, powerful film comes across like England's answer to PSYCHO. Lacking the spooky trappings of Hitchcock's film, it does not fall so squarely into the horror genre, but it's story deals with similar ideas: a likable young man (Carl Boehm) who turns out to be a homicidal killer. The film plays effective games with the voyeuristic nature of cinema, forcing us to identify with the killer as he films his victims at the moment of death. A thoroughly effective if not altogether pleasant experience.

PICNIC AT HANGING ROCK (1975). Peter Weir's nifty little Australian mystery (based on an allegedly true--but actually fictional--disappearance of some school girls on an outing to the titular location) never comes down squarely on the side of the supernatural; it merely sets up a mystery for which there is no possible rational explanation, and leaves it for the audience to wonder what kind of ancient primordial forces could be at work, invisible to humanity but occasionally brushing us for the briefest moment, throwing our order lives into inexplicable chaos. Frustrating in its inconclusiveness, but all the more intriguing because of it; a haunting, memorable effort.

THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS (1991). A great thriller, focusing on FBI procedures for tracking down serial killers, this edges into horror territory thanks to the presence of Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a living embodiment of willful, self-conscious evil. Suspenseful it is, but the true horror comes from the Mystery of Evil, a mystery for which Lecter presumably has some answers--but he's giving nothing away.

SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950). Billy Wilder's acknowledged masterpiece needs no defense from me in regards to its quality, but seldom have the genre undertones been acknowledged. The film is narrated by a dead man (a dramatic device since lifted by AMERICAN BEAUTY), and much of the visual imagery is informed by horror films: the traveler (William Holden) who takes refuge in the spooky old house, the sinister manservant (Erich Von Stroheim), and the host at once inviting and threatening (Gloria Swanson). In fact, Swanson's whole characterization suggests an aging vampire seeking to revive herself by sucking the life out of her young guest. Still not exactly a horror movie, but a lot better than most of what passes for the real thing.

TARGETS (1968). Peter Bogdanovich's film contrasts two storylines (one about an aging horror star, played by Boris Karloff, on the verge of retirement, and one about a young man who inexplicably begins illuming innocent passersby) until both converge at the drive-in debut of the actor's latest horror film. The contrast between the fantasy horrors of the film-within-a-film (Roger Corman's THE TERROR) and the real life horror of random violence is powerful and stunning.

TAXI DRIVER (1976). In this film, lonely homicidal psychos are no longer confined to rundown motels on forgotten highways; they drive taxis through the streets of New York. Grungy, ugly, and disturbing, Martin Scorsese's film (written by Paul Schrader) ends in a blood bath that outdoes most genuine horror films in terms of sheer impact.

VERTIGO (1958). Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece toys with the idea that Jimmy Stewart's character may be in love with the reincarnation of a dead woman. Although the plot ultimately reveals this as a ruse, the effect is still felt, pushing the film a bit beyond the mystery-thriller format, toward (if not altogether into) genre territory.