10 scary pictures for Halloween 2026

 

 

For the past month, in keeping with it being the season of Halloween, I’ve been putting spooky and horror-related entries on this blog.  Well, today is October 31st, 2026 – Halloween itself.  As is my custom, I will celebrate the occasion with a post where I talk about ten pieces of creepy or scary artwork that have caught my eye since Halloween last year.  Incidentally, the photographs above are of the façade, at the moment, of a house in the Singaporean street where I live.  The folk there seem to really love Halloween.

 

First, to get you in the mood, here’s a vintage American Halloween card featuring some impish-looking demons and some pumpkin lanterns that disconcertingly possess real eyes and mouths.  According to the Public Domain Review, “Halloween and picture postcards have a shared history, and both captured the anglophone imagination at the turn of the twentieth century.  As the October 31st festival began to emerge in its modern guise thanks, in part, to an influx of immigrants from the British Isles in the United States, picture postcards entered their so-called ‘golden era’, ca. 1905–1915.  Rarely seen or used in the US before 1893, an estimated 900 million postcards had been mailed two decades later.”

 

From publicdomainpictures.net

 

If you find the smiles on those pumpkins unsettling, brace yourself for the smile in the picture that’s coming next.  It’s a detail from a leaf of the Hungarian-Anjou Legendary, an illustrated 14th-century, Latin-language manuscript about the lives of 58 saints.  This leaf, which now resides at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York, provides information on St Bartholomew, including information on his grisly fate.  Reportedly, the Armenian prince Astyages flayed him alive.  Because of this, Christian art often depicts Saint Bartholomew as carrying around his own, removed skin – see his appearance in Michelangelo’s The Last Judgement (1536-41) or the very anatomical statue of him by Marco d’Agrate.

 

But the Hungarian-Anjou Legendary detail is the most gruesome depiction of him I’ve seen.  As I’ve said, it’s the grin on the unfortunate saint’s face that makes it truly disturbing (though it doesn’t help that his freshly sliced-off face is hanging down at the side).  I suppose if you’d just had your face flayed off, you wouldn’t have much choice about grinning either.  By the way, it seems something of a sick joke that Bartholomew ended up as the patron saint of, among other people, tanners.

 

From the Morgan Library and Museum

 

Also religious-themed is the following work from Italian artist (and accomplished freestyle wrestler) Paolo Girardi, who has a lengthy entry in the Encyclopaedia Metallum: The Metal Archives website because of the artwork he’s done for many heavy metal bands – most prolifically for the Colombian thrash-and-black-metal band Inquisition and the awesomely-named Italian black-and-death-metal one Blasphemophagher.  This particularly striking example of Girardi’s talents is one I’ve seen on Pinterest, Reddit and TikTok but I can’t find its name.  As far as I can tell, it doesn’t seem to be artwork for an album cover.  What to make of it?  I interpret it as representing a madman’s dream of the apocalypse, with his head opening spectacularly above his (noticeably Christ-like) face to reveal a bubbling hellscape where there rampages the seven-headed beast from the Book of Revelation.

 

From imgur.com / © Paolo Girardi

 

Girardi’s dragon-like seven-headed beast puts me in mind of King Ghidorah, the dragon-like three-headed kaiju – giant monsters in Japanese cinema that specialise in demolishing cities – who’s regarded as the deadliest foe to have faced Godzilla, the greatest of all kaiju.  Godzilla is having yet another moment, thanks to the recent release of Takashi Yamazaki’s Godzilla Minus Zero (in which, I understand, King Ghidorah also features).  During the course of countless movies since the 1950s, there’s been times when Godzilla has come dangerously close to being cuddly and domesticated – he’s acquired a voice (in 1972’s Godzilla vs. Gigan) and become a dad (in 1967’s Son of Godzilla) and his battles with other kaiju have frequently sunk to the comical level of a Big-Daddy-versus-Giant-Haystacks pro-wrestling bout.  It’s sometimes been easy to forget he was originally meant to be massively dangerous and frightening.

 

But massively dangerous and frightening is how Godzilla looks in the next picture I’ve chosen.  It comes from a four-issue, comic-book mini-series appropriately called The Horror of Godzilla, which debuted in July this year.  It’s drawn by the excellent Australian artist Tristan Jones, whose previous work has involved other well-known cultural properties such as Alien, Ghostbusters and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  Perhaps most intriguingly, he’s illustrated a comic-book prequel to the 1997 Sam Neill space-horror movie Event Horizon.

 

© IDW Publishing / Tristan Jones

 

I’ve just said that Tristan Jones has worked in the universe of the Alien movies.  That brings me to my next pick, which belongs to the first Alien-related artwork I ever saw.  It’s a picture from the 64-page graphic-novel adaptation of the 1979 original Alien film directed by Ridley Scott, Alien: The Illustrated Story, which was drawn by Walt Simonson, written by Archie Goodwin and published in 1979 too.  I never owned it, but I remember spending half-an-hour in a branch of the (now-defunct) Scottish bookshop John Menzies, perusing a copy of it – and grimacing at the book’s violent frames, which had a volcanic level of bloodiness, far more than what was actually shown in the film.  This frame exemplifies Simonson in all his sanguinary enthusiasm.  And yes, it depicts the film’s most notorious scene, wherein the baby alien decides to vacate John Hurt’s chest.

 

© Heavy Metal Communications / Titan Books / Walt SImonson

 

The Catalonian artist Manuel Perez Clemente, who painted under the name of Sanjulian and who sadly passed away in the middle of this month, did some film-related work too, for example, a cover of the venerable and pioneering horror-movie magazine Famous Monsters of Filmland (1958-83).  However, Sanjulian is probably best-known for his work on the horror comic-strip magazines put out by Warren Publishing (who also published Famous Monsters) – Creepy (1964-83), Eerie (1968-83) and Vampirella (1969-present).  I don’t know where the following item originates – I came across it on the website for DMR Books, in a tribute to Sanjulian they posted following his death.  It’s a cemetery-set monster-mash that showcases the gloriously pulpy style of much of his art.  Incidentally, the skull-faced miscreant lurking at the picture’s bottom looks a lot like Dr Anton Phibes, the character played by Vincent Price in the movies The Abominable Dr Phibes (1971) and Dr Phibes Rises Again (1972).

 

From DMR Books

 

Speaking of Vincent Price, the great horror-movie star appeared in several films in the early-to-mid-1960s that were based on the works of Edgar Allan Poe and directed by Roger Corman.  These included the 1963 movie The Raven, which had a made-up story about dueling magicians (from the pen of Richard Matheson) with the title of Poe’s most famous poem cheekily tagged onto it.  At least during the film Price got to recite the poem in his impeccably mellifluous voice.

 

Anyway, here’s one of 24 illustrations that the celebrated 19th-century French artist Gustav Dore drew for the poem The Raven shortly before his death in 1883.  It’s inspired by the lines “…I stood there wondering, fearing / Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before…”  Dore’s imagining of the dreams no mortal dared to dream before involves the Angel of Death sitting atop the globe amid the mess of his robes and scythe.  Strictly speaking, the raven hasn’t yet appeared in the poem’s narrative, but you can spy him flying furtively past.

 

From poestories.com

 

Also in 1963, Roger Corman found time to make X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes, about a scientist (Ray Milland) who develops eye-drops that can expand the range of human vision, treats his own eyes with them and finds himself able to see deeper and deeper into the fabric of reality.  First, he can see through people’s clothes, which is a bit sleazy.  Then he can see through skin and flesh and identify internal injuries, which is medically useful.  However, by the movie’s end, he’s able to see into the centre of the universe, where he observes ‘an eye that sees us all’, which is definitely freaky.  (The hallucinogenic script was by Ray Russell.)

 

The following picture by the late Austrian artist Rudolph Sieber-Lonati reminds me of that ‘eye that sees us all’.  It’s an outstanding piece of visual cosmic horror – cosmic horror being a school of macabre writing that emphasizes the puniness and insignificance of human beings whilst suggesting there are vast and terrifying forces in the universe that could destroy us all in a split-second if the notion took them.

 

From facebook.com/CuthuluCo

 

From cosmic horror to folk horror, which Wikipedia describes as “a subgenre of horror film and horror fiction that uses elements of folklore to invoke fear and foreboding.  Typical elements include a rural setting, isolation, and themes of superstition, folk religion, paganism, sacrifice and the dark aspects of nature.”

 

This is a handsome illustration called Witches’ Sabbath, which I discovered on Etsy.  There’s always something darkly jolly about paintings and drawings of witches heading to the sabbath – they have a look of anticipation on their faces that tells you they’re planning to really party and have a good time.  Maddeningly, I can’t find any details on where this piece came from.  The accompanying blurb on Etsy claims it “was originally commissioned by the band Widow from Italy. It shows the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone flying, performing a ritual and reminding the viewer of their own mortality.”  I know there’s an Italian band called Void Widow, but I don’t think this is connected with them.

 

From etsy.com 

 

For my tenth picture, I’ve selected the cover illustration for a Japanese edition of a collection of stories by the English writer Algernon Blackwood, which all feature Blackwood’s psychic investigator John Silence.  The artist responsible is the remarkable surrealist and fantasy illustrator Tadami Yamada; and the scene depicted is from the story Ancient Sorceries, wherein a hapless English traveller finds himself trapped in a remote French town whose inhabitants turn out to be… not werewolves, but were-cats.  As far as I can remember, the story doesn’t take place at Halloween, but the sight of Yamada’s grey-blue cats levitating through the moonlit air gives it a pleasing Halloween-y vibe.

 

From kokusho.co.jp / © Kokusho Kankōkai / Tadami Yamada

 

Oh yes…  Here’s an extra, eleventh picture in recognition of the fact that this Halloween marks exactly one century since the death of the illusionist and escapologist Harry Houdini.  He died on October 31st, 1926, from peritonitis – possibly caused by appendicitis, possibly caused by blows to the abdomen he’d received nine days earlier.  I love the posters advertising the shows of the great magicians of the early 20th century, like Howard Thurston and Harry Kellar, which were adorned with ghosts, demons and skeletons, hinting that the magicians’ powers weren’t necessarily stage illusions and might be linked to the supernatural and occult.

 

This poster for a Houdini show at the Lyceum Theatre in Paterson, New Jersy, however, restricts the supernatural stuff to a few spectral spirits billowing out of some wanly-coloured flames.  Houdini was a total sceptic about spiritualism and the paranormal – as the poster’s wording says, “Do spirits return?  Houdini says no – and proves it” – so maybe the lack of flamboyance is deliberate.

 

From wildabouthoudini.com

 

Anyway, I wish you all a better Halloween than Harry Houdini had a century ago.  Happy Halloween!

The jolly films of Roger (Part 2)

 

© American International Pictures

 

Following on from my last blog-post, in which I paid tribute to the prolific, indefatigable and – it has to be said – thrifty filmmaker Roger Corman who died on May 9th, here’s a round-up of my favourite films that Corman directed.

 

A Bucket of Blood (1959)

Character actor Dick Miller worked regularly with Roger Corman.  His biggest role for him was in a movie that’s also Corman’s best work of the 1950s, the horror-comedy A Bucket of Blood.  Miller plays a would-be avant-garde sculptor called Walter Paisley who’s increasingly frustrated at his lack of talent.  This isn’t helped by the fact that, to make ends meet, he has to work as a busboy at the local Beatnik café, which is full of pretentious tossers going on about what creative geniuses they are.  “Be a nose!  Be a nose!” the hapless Paisley cries as he tries and fails to fashion a recognisable human visage out of a lump of clay.  After accidentally killing his landlady’s cat and then killing an undercover cop who’s trying to implicate him in some drug-dealing at the café (Paisley memorably cleaves his head with a skillet), he hits on a way of producing perfectly proportioned statues: committing murder and coating the bodies in clay.  Frankly, the resulting corpse-statues look hideous, but that doesn’t stop the Beatniks at the café proclaiming Paisley an artistic genius.

 

Their lack of taste in sculpture mirrors their lack of taste in poetry.  At the beginning we hear Beatnik bard Maxwell Brock (Julian Burton) delivering an epic, and epicly bad, poem called Life is a Bum, which goes: “Life is an obscure hobo bumming a ride on the omnibus of art…  The Artist is, all others are not…  Where are John, Joe, Jake, Jim, Jerk?  Dead, dead, dead!  They were not born before they were born, they were not born…  Where are Leonardo, Rembrandt, Ludwig?  Alive, alive, alive!  They were born…!”

 

© Alta Vista Productions / American International Pictures

 

The Raven (1963)

As a kid, I loved this movie, the fifth of Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe adaptations for American International Pictures.  The tale of a trio of feuding magicians played by Vincent Price, Boris Karloff and Peter Lorre, it’s more fantasy than horror – but spiced with delightfully ghoulish moments, such as when a torturer checks the temperature of a red-hot poker by pressing it into his own arm, or when Price opens a little casket and is discombobulated to find it full of human eyeballs.  (“I’d rather not say,” he croaks when Lorre asks him what’s inside.)  It’s like a version of Walt Disney’s Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) for morbid children.

 

Needless to say, the film’s connection with Edgar Allan Poe is extremely loose.  In fact, it’s only Karloff turning Lorre into a raven twice during the film that allows Corman to tack the title of Poe’s most famous poem onto it and have Price recite the poem mellifluously during its opening scene.  Meanwhile, in the role of Lorre’s son, we get a 26-year-old and amusingly wooden Jack Nicholson.

 

© Alta Vista Productions / American International Pictures

 

X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes (1963)

A non-gothic movie Corman made whilst in the middle of his Edgar Allan Poe cycle, the sci-fi chiller X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes (1963) is about a scientist, played by Ray Milland, who experiments on his own eyes and ends up seeing beyond the usual visual spectrum perceptible to humans.

 

I wrote about this movie last year in a post about its scriptwriter, Ray Russell.  “Milland’s increasingly penetrative vision goes from letting him see though clothing – hence a party scene where, to his bemusement, the dancing revellers appear to be cavorting in the nude – to letting him see the distance edges of the universe, where horrible things lurk.  How one reacts to the film today depends on how one reacts to the special effects that Corman, a famously thrifty filmmaker, deploys to represent Milland’s visions.  They vary from psychedelic patterns and filters to (when he’s peering into human bodies) flashes of what are obviously photos and diagrams taken from human-anatomy manuals.  The effects are either desperately ingenious or just plain desperate, depending on your attitude.  Still, the film cultivates an effective mood of cosmic horror and the ending is nightmarish in its logic.”

 

The Masque of the Red Death (1964)

Corman’s majestic adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death, scripted by Charles Beaumont and R. Wright Campbell (with a second Poe story, Hop Frog, stitched into the plot for good measure) and beautifully shot by the great Nicolas Roeg, showcases Vincent Price at his sumptuously evil best.  He’s Prince Prospero, who’s holed up in his castle with an entourage of loathsome aristocrats while a plague, the Red Death, decimates the countryside outside.  Price and friends happily live a life of decadence, fuelled by drink, drugs, sex and diabolism – rather like Boris Johnson and his lackeys and minions partying at No 10, Downing Street, during Covid-19 and breaking all their own lockdown restrictions – while refusing to help the neighbourhood’s terrified peasants.  However, when they decide to enliven their social calendar with a fancy-dress masque, the masque is gate-crashed by a mysterious, Ingmar Bergman-esque figure swathed in a red robe.  Guess who that is.

 

© Alta Vista Productions / Anglo-Amalgamated / Warner Pathé  

 

Tomb of Ligeia (1964)

Made the same year as Masque, Corman’s Ligeia has Price in a more sympathetic role, playing a haunted and reclusive man who tries to put his troubles behind him and find happiness with a new wife (Elizabeth Shepherd).  Unfortunately, his former wife, though dead, is still around in spirit form and won’t leave him in peace.  Tomb of Ligeia has a slightly over-the-top ending, but the build-up to it, involving black cats, flag-stoned passageways, cobwebs, candlelight, hypnosis, Egyptology and some spectacular monasterial ruins filmed at Castle Acre Priory near Swaffham in England’s County Suffolk, is spookily wonderful.

 

The Wild Angels (1966)

“Just what is it that you want to do…?”  “Well, we wanna be free, we wanna to be free to do what we wanna do.  And we wanna get loaded and we wanna have a good time.  And that’s what we’re gonna do….  We’re gonna have a good time, we’re gonna have a party!”

 

Scottish alternative rock / dance band Primal Scream immortalised this exchange from Corman’s The Wild Angels, between Frank Maxwell’s preacher and Peter Fonda’s Hells Angel, by sampling it on their 1990 dancefloor hit Loaded.  Though to be fair, the American grunge band Mudhoney got there first when they sampled it on their song In and Out of Grace two years earlier.  It’s also recited at the climax of The World’s End, Edgar Wright’s underrated sci-fi / horror satire from 2013, during the face-off between Simon Pegg and a supercilious alien intelligence voiced by Bill Nighy.

 

In addition to Fonda, The Wild Angels features Nancy Sinatra, Bruce Dern, Diane Ladd – supposedly Dern and Ladd’s daughter Laura was conceived during filming, so Laura Dern is something else we have Roger Corman to thank for – and the baby-faced Michael J. Pollard shortly before he played W.C. Moss in Bonnie and Clyde (1967).  The script, officially written by long-term Corman associate Charles B. Griffith and unofficially rewritten by Peter Bogdanovich, is minimalist. While there’s stuff about Fonda’s Hells Angels chapter pursuing a stolen bike, and about Dern’s character being shot by the cops and having to be rescued from a hospital, it’s mainly a frame for scenes in which the Angels offend Middle America.  Corman did his research by throwing parties with free beer and marijuana for real Hells Angels.  He had Griffith attend them and make notes while those Angels recounted their wild (and no doubt exaggerated) tales of life on the road.

 

© American International Pictures

 

At least Griffith and Bogdanovich don’t pull their punches.  In the script, the Angels come across as pretty assholey, particularly with their love for Nazi symbols and memorabilia.  This causes a confrontation between them and a World-War-II veteran (Dick Miller again) early in the movie.  When Dern’s character dies and they organise a funeral for him – predictably, the church service degenerates into an orgy – the coffin is draped in a Nazi flag.  The real Hells Angels, some of whom had appeared in the film, were so annoyed by Corman’s portrayal of them that they threatened to both kill him and sue him (presumably not in that order).  If that wasn’t enough, Corman had Frank ‘Dodgy Connections’ Sinatra breathing down his neck, concerned about daughter Nancy’s safety among the Angels on the set.  Actually, the story of an exploitation director making a biker movie who unwittingly antagonises the Hells Angels and the Mafia sounds like it would make a good exploitation movie.

 

The Trip (1967)

Corman, Fonda and Dern were united for this movie, scripted by one Jack Nicholson.  Yes, it’s about a trip, a hallucinogenic one, experienced by a TV commercial director played by Fonda, wearing a sensible red V-necked sweater.  He takes LSD as a reaction to the break-up of his marriage and the trip initially happens at the home of, and under the watchful eye of, a friend played by Dern, wearing a sensible eggshell-blue polo-neck and fawn jacket.  These scenes were filmed in the house of Albert Lee, leader of the rock band Love.  The cost-conscious Corman was surely pleased to discover that Lee’s house had so much psychedelic décor already it hardly needed to be dressed up for the film.  However, when Fonda hallucinates that he’s killed Dern – he hasn’t – he panics and flees down to Sunset Strip.  Then things really get groovy.

 

Seen today, The Trip is inevitably something of a museum piece and the low budget means some of its fantasy scenes are ropey.  Bits where Fonda, now wearing a baggy white shirt like a romantic poet, is pursued by medieval, cloaked-and-cowled figures on horseback through what is obviously modern-day California are particularly cringey.  But there are enough genuinely weird things – Fonda having a question-and-answer session with Dennis Hopper on a carousel, Fonda making love to a lady under some heavily patterned lighting that makes them look like psychedelically-coloured chameleons, Fonda having a panic attack inside Dern’s wardrobe – to make it memorable.  And if you enjoy a good 1960s-movie psych-out sequence, the one where the heavily-tripping Fonda blunders into a night club during a live rock performance is awesome.

 

© American International Pictures

 

Bloody Mama (1970)

Like The Wild Angels, this Corman movie isn’t so much a story as a series of outrages, with reprobates lurching from one confrontation to another.  Unlike The Wild Angels, the characters in Bloody Mama are based, very loosely, on historical figures – Depression-era America’s notorious Barker-Karpis Gang, supposedly led by matriarch Kate ‘Ma’ Barker.  Many have argued that Ma Barker’s reputation as a criminal mastermind was invented by the media and by J. Edgar Hoover, keen to justify the FBI killing an old woman when they finally caught up with her and shot her.  As the fictionalised Ma Barker, lording it over her four gormless gangster sons, Shelley Winters gives a scenery-chomping performance that dominates the film and blinds you to its various budgetary and exploitative shortcomings. God-fearing, gun-toting, racist, incestuous and psychotic, she seems a monstrous metaphor for America itself.  This is underlined when she herds her sons around the piano to sing Battle Hymn of the Republic.

 

Among the sons, Don Stroud gets most to do as Ma’s eldest, Herman. He’s a hulking thug to begin with but, in some unexpected character development, gradually forms a mind of his own.  Film buffs, though, will be more excited by the presence of a young Robert De Niro, playing well-medicated son Lloyd.  At one point he gets high on glue, causing an uncomprehending Winters to exclaim, “When you’re working on those model airplanes, you get to acting awful silly!”

 

Incidentally, Bloody Mama was such a money spinner for American International Pictures that they demanded another Depression-era gangster movie.  Corman, though, was willing only to produce the follow-up, Boxcar Bertha (1972), and a young lad called Martin Scorsese got the directing gig.

 

When I first started writing this tribute to Roger Corman, I was going to title it THE MAN WHO ROGERED HOLLYWOOD, though I soon decided that sounded disrespectful.  But Corman literally did roger Hollywood.  Without his opportunities and tutelage, Coppola, Scorsese, Cameron, Nicholson, etc., might never have got to where they did, and many landmark movies during the last half-century of Hollywood’s history – from the Godfather movies to the Scorsese-De Niro collaborations, from the Terminator and Avatar series to a host of classic films including Monte Hellman’s Two-Lane Blacktop (1971), Joe Dante’s Gremlins (1984), Jonathan Demme’s Silence of the Lambs (1989), Carl Franklin’s One False Move (1993) and Curtis Hanson’s LA Confidential (1997) – might  not have seen the light of day.  And many of his own movies, cheap though they were, were a great deal of fun.  No wonder Quentin Tarantino loved him.

 

Not bad for the guy who directed It Conquered the World (1956) and produced Dinocroc vs Supergator (2010).

 

© Alta Vista Productions / American International Pictures