10 Horror Remakes That Are Actually Worth Your Time & Money

This past Halloween, my friends Jess, Kate, and Lor had a costume party (I went as Chief Brody from Jaws, in case you're wondering). At one point in the evening, Jess decided to throw a horror movie on in the background, settling on The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. However, when I noticed that she was talking about the 2003 remake, I badgered her into not putting it on, and in the fallout, no one could settle on an appropriate movie. This says two things. 1) I am not much of a party guest. And, 2) my reputation as a remake hater precedes me. Granted, I do generally roll my eyes at the thought of an idea-starved Hollywood throwing more and more of my childhood favourites into the Platinum Dunes meat grinder. But, that being said, there are a number of horror remakes that I do enjoy, and some that I downright adore, even more than the originals that inspired them. I even find myself looking forward to 2013's remakes of Carrie and The Evil Dead--the former because of the talent involved, the latter because of the back-to-basics approach and wild gore seen in the film's red-band trailer. So, in the interest of proving that I'm not just a snobby old-school purist, here are ten horror remakes that I would happily recommend, in no particular order.

DAWN OF THE DEAD (2004): Zack Snyder's ultra-grim, fast-moving variant on George Romero's 1978 masterpiece ditches the original's biting consumerist satire, and is most definitely the poorer for it. But this update switches out social commentary for new spins on the zombie apocalypse setting, like the friendly game of "Spot-The-Celebrity-Zombie-Lookalike" and the much-maligned, but frankly scarier, running ghouls. Snyder's spin on the material lacks the dramatic weight of the original, but it's still a gory, hair-raising crowd pleaser.

FRIGHT NIGHT (2011): I still prefer the 1985 original with William Ragsdale, Roddy McDowall, and Chris Sarandon, but that doesn't mean I didn't get a kick out of Anton Yelchin, David Tennant, and Colin Ferrell in this Las Vegas-set revamp (ouch!). The sharp script by Buffy vet Marti Noxon wisely maintains the original's tongue-in-cheek tone, and the 3D in the theatrical release was surprisingly effective. The '11 version loses points for its reliance on CGI over practical effects, but gains them for Ferrell's sly turn as a himbo bloodsucker named, of all things, Jerry.

THE THING (1982): What modern-day horror fan doesn't love John Carpenter's gooey, apocalyptic update of the Cold War classic? Besides featuring Rob Bottin's most accomplished effects work, the '82 model also features a bearded Kurt Russell at his most badass, and has one of the cinema's great bleak endings. You could argue that this is merely a new, more faithful adaptation of the short story "Who Goes There?" By John Campbell, which inspired the 1951 version as well, but as long as we all agree to skip the unfortunate 2011 version, we'll all get along just fine.

DRACULA (1979): As I said about The Thing above, John Badham's romanticized take on the classic chiller is also a new adaptation of the Bram Stoker novel more than it's a remake (well, technically, it's an adaptation of the stage play version, as was the 1931 Lugosi film). It's also the first version of the Dracula story I ever saw on screen, when CTV debuted it during prime time in the early Eighties, and it remains my favourite take on the material. Frank Langella, magnetic in the role of the legendary Count, headlines an impressive cast that features Laurence Olivier, Donald Pleasance, and Kate Nelligan, and John Williams' elegant score is one of his unsung masterpieces.

INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1978): The 1956 original Don Siegel film is still a white-knuckle classic of Cold War paranoia, but Phillip Kaufman's reimagining of the Jack Finney novel remains one of the scariest tales of alien terror ever made. Kaufman's film stars Donald Sutherland, Brooke Adams, Leonard Nimoy, a very young Jeff Goldblum, and perpetual extraterrestrial hysteric Veronica Cartwright. Substituting Communist hysteria with New Age psychobabble, the '78 version unfolds with an air of inescapable dread, ending with one of the most downbeat final images of the genre. And no, I'm not just talking about Sutherland's perm-and-moustache combo, either.

LET ME IN (2010): The only movie more doomed to fan derision than a remake of a beloved horror movie is a remake of a beloved foreign-language horror movie. The Swedish original, 2008's Let The Right One In, is a deeply affecting tale of doomed adolescent love, but I think I prefer Matt Reeves' Americanized redo just a bit more. Chloe Grace-Moretz is commanding as the forever-young vampire, and the always-great Richard Jenkins is heartbreaking as her past-his-prime human protector. The New Mexico setting adds an interesting layer of guilty history to the story (this is, after all, where the atomic bomb was built), and the crash filmed from the inside of the car is a show-stopping sequence.

THE HILLS HAVE EYES (2006): I've never been much of a fan of Wes Craven's 1977 original, which sees an extended family battling their cracked-mirror reflections in the form of a hillbilly clan mutated by atomic testing in the desert. But Alexandre Aja's supersick update is leaner, meaner, and much scarier. By the time this movie hit theatres, deformed white-trash villains were becoming more than a little cliche, but Aja uses the remote setting to make them terrifying all over again. And the final showdown, set in a 1950s-style, mannequin-inhabited mock neighbourhood built to be nuked, is inspired.

THE BLOB (1988): The scariest thing about the 1958 original might be the theme song by Burt Bacharach, so writer Frank Darabont and director Chuck Russell had their work cut out for them. The '88 Blob goes the '82 Thing route, filling its running time with scene after scene of highly imaginative gore. The new-model alien glop doesn't just consume its victims, it corrodes them, and will stop at nothing to continue feeding--pulling victims through drains, manholes, walls, even crushing them inside phone booths. There's also a cool new government-paranoia-inspired twist on the Blob's origins, and a nifty final scene that sets up a sequel which, sadly, never happened.

PIRANHA (2010): Calling Alexandre Aja's (him again!) gleefully gory 3D offering a remake of Joe Dante's 1978 drive-in favourite might be a bit charitable. Other than the toothsome antagonists, the two films have very little in common. Whereas Dante's Roger Corman-produced original unleashed the title carnivores (the product of genetic weapons research conducted for river warfare in Vietnam) on a summer camp full of unsuspecting children, Aja's film lets the evil little fishies (here, prehistoric creatures released from an underwater fissure) loose on a phalanx of bikini-clad Spring Breakers. As a result, the refreshingly R-rated movie has boobs and blood in equal measure, plus an Eighties-friendly cast that includes Elizabeth Shue, Christopher Lloyd, and Richard Dreyfuss in a cameo nod to his iconic Jaws role.

THE FLY (1986): I actually haven't watched David Cronenberg's remake of the 1958 sci-fi classic in years, and I'm a little afraid to--I've seen a lot of disgusting movies in my day, but none are as quite as stomach-churning as this one is. Part tragic romance between winning leads Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis, part STD-allegory (Cronenberg's film landed during the early years of the AIDS crisis), all flesh-crawling body horror, The Fly set a new standard for animatronics, gore effects and the science of accidentally turning lab monkeys inside out. The 1989 sequel starring Eric Stoltz and Daphne Zuniga may have even been more gory, but it lacks the heartbreaking human drama at the centre of Cronenberg's original.

THE KEEP (1983): Michael Mann's adaptation of F. Paul Wilson's novel The Keep is not easy to track down. Legal disputes over Tangerine Dream's music for the film, combined with Mann disowning the studio's cut (his original version of the 96-minute film reportedly ran over three hours long!), have kept the film in format limbo since its original VHS and Laserdisc release. But this stylish horror-fantasy is worth seeking out, provided you have a high tolerance for arty direction and early '80s practical effects. A squadron of Nazis, led by a sympathetic captain played by Jurgen Prochnow (your go-to guy for sympathetic Germans, Das Boot having come out two years earlier), invade a small Romanian village that's home to a mysterious fortress. Rumours of silver hidden within lead some of the Nazi troops to explore the title building, only to be destroyed by a mysterious supernatural force. The captain brings in an ailing doctor (Ian McKellen) and his daughter (Alberta Watson) to try and solve the mystery behind the killings, while a sadistic superior officer played by Gabriel Byrne is just fine with executing the local villagers until they tell them what's going on. Turns out the Keep was originally built to contain a centuries-old creature called the Molasar, who grows stronger with each killing. The Molasar recruits the doctor by rejuvenating him supernaturally, while a mysterious guardian (Scott Glenn) arrives in the village to make sure the creature stays imprisoned. Is the Molasar really going to help defeat the Nazi evil, or is it a creature of pure evil itself?

The Keep is a pretty silly movie at times--it's filled with laser light shows, smoke effects, and it contains one hell of an over-the-top sex scene partway through. But it's an ambitious kind of silly. It has a terrific cast, an unorthodox approach to the usual good vs. evil struggle (not all of the heroes are good, while not all of the Nazis are evil), and the Molasar, a sort of Golem who re-forms himself in layers over the course of the movie, like Watchmen's Dr. Manhattan after his atomic accident, looks pretty damn cool. Worth seeking out if you can find it, depending on your tastes.

Q THE WINGED SERPENT (1982): I don't know who exactly was supposed to be scared of the title monster in Q: The Winged Serpent. Unless you were a construction worker on a high building or a sunbather who favoured high rise complexes, you had little to fear from a resurrected flying Aztec lizard god with a penchant for plucking hapless New Yorkers off of rooftops. But even though there are some dry stretches between kills in writer/director Larry Cohen's monster mash, he fills in the space with fun turns from great character actors like David Carradine as a cop trying to find the connection between the monster attacks and a series of ritual sacrifice killings, Richard Roundtree (Shaft!) as his skeptical partner, Michael Moriarty as a sleazy small-time crook who knows the location of the monster's lair, and American Graffiti's Candy Clark as his long-suffering girlfriend.

The stop-motion monster effects are dated but fun (and, wisely, used sparingly), there are lots of hysterical extras reacting to blood and body parts raining from above, and Cohen's witty script doesn't take itself too seriously. The human subplots between Q attacks might turn off some casual viewers, but fans of vintage monster mayhem and sleazy, pre-Giuliani New York will find plenty to enjoy here.

THE BLOB (1988): After perfecting the Freddy Krueger movie with Nightmare On Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors in 1987, writer Frank Darabont and director Chuck Russell reteamed a year later to remake one of the silliest creature features the 1950s had to offer, The Blob. Taking a page from John Carpenter's imaginatively gory remake of The Thing six years earlier (Darabont has always been a fan, and was even attached to a Thing companion miniseries for the Sci-Fi Channel some time ago), this new take on the tale of carnivorous extraterrestrial goo is truly, freakishly disgusting. A meteorite containing the putrid pink protoplasm lands in a small town and promptly begins to gobble up everyone it meets, growing exponentially with each meal. Entourage's Kevin Dillon, sporting one of the most majestic mullets ever captured on film, stars as the town rebel who teams up with a squeaky-clean pharmacist's daughter (Shawnee Smith, from Summer School and the Saw franchise) to take out the insatiable snot-monster before it eats the whole town. The Blob is most definitely not for the squeamish--characters are sucked down drains, dissolved into chunks, and sizzled alive by the corrosive glop, and no character is safe, regardless of age or likability.

I hadn't seen this film in at least a decade, and I'd forgotten the cool third-act twist about the Blob's origins that Darabont and Russell added. I won't spoil it here, but suffice it to say that the Blob isn't the only villain in the film. The slyly funny script, wild gross-out effects, and fine supporting cast (including Darabont regular Jeffrey DeMunn, RoboCop psycho Paul McCrane, legendary Second City instructor Del Close, and, once again, Candy Clark) make The Blob a fun, often-overlooked '80s gem.

FREDDY VS. JASON (2003): Let's face it--you're either going to be into the idea of a movie called Freddy Vs. Jason, or you're not. A grudge match between the two biggest horror icons of Reagan-era America was inevitable, especially once the rights to the Jason Voorhees character fell into the hands of New Line Cinema, home of Freddy Krueger. As a movie, Freddy Vs. Jason really didn't have to do much other than carve up a few teens and pit the title psychos against each other to be deemed a success, but writer Damian Shannon & Mark Swift and director Ronny Yu went above and beyond for this slasher mashup, filling the movie with nods to the iconography of the Friday The 13th series (a beyond-the-grave cameo by Pamela Voorhees and a dream sequence set at Camp Crystal Lake in Jason's youth, complete with neglectful, sex-crazed camp counsellors) and the Nightmare On Elm Street films (the first murder takes place at Nancy's house from the first film, and features a detour to the Westin Hills Asylum from the third film--that movie's dream-suppressing drug, Hypnocil, also plays a key role). The plot is fairly ingenious; Freddy's cursed existence has been covered up by Springwood's police department, thereby cutting off the supply of precious fear generated by the town's children. Freddy needs that fear to power him, so he manipulates Jason via the dream world into rising again and committing bloody murders in Springwood. The locals once again begin spreading rumours about the return of the legendary Springwood Slasher, and Freddy begins to regain his power...but once Jason has been unleashed, he starts cutting in on Freddy's would-be victims and, by extension, his power supply, setting the stage for an epic throwdown that stretches from Jason's subconscious all the way to Camp Crystal Lake.

The original films in these series were chock-full of teen stereotypes, and it's fun to see how they've been updated for the 2000s--there's a Jack Black clone, a Jason Mewes-style stoner (who gets the movie's best line--"That goalie was pissed about something"), and a girl who's obsessed with getting a nose job. The body count is high, the nudity is gratuitous, and director Yu doesn't skimp on the gore (even the film's title is revealed by bloody slashes across a fleshy backdrop). Like I said, you're either going to be into the idea or not into it, but any true child of the golden age of slasher cinema has no excuse to miss this one.