There’s no translation needed for a scream. And when someone’s being attacked with a ridiculously large knife, their nationality doesn’t make the situation any less terrifying. Not to mention other countries seem to understand that real horror isn’t about the jump-scares or extreme gore (something we’re finally seeing a little less of in recent films like Goodnight Mommy, The Babadook, and It Follows). So we had no trouble curating this list of the best foreign horror films, except maybe in limiting ourselves to only ten. This Halloween, if you thought subtitles might distract from suspense, check out any of these titles and find yourself spookily proven wrong.

10 Must Watch Foreign Horror Films For Halloween

#10. Nosferatu (1922 – Germany)

F.W. Murnau’s silent classic Nosferatu floods the mind with inky, dreamlike visions that never release their grip. The film haunts me to this day because the monster at its center isn’t treated as a movie monster at all, but a demon that lurks and stalks us from the shadows of our world. He’s embodied by German actor Max Schreck, whose performance is freaky as hell, not operatic and sexy (don’t call him Dracula). Our hero, Hutter (Alexander Granach), uncovers pieces of vampire lore via mysterious letters and occult symbols and barely evades the gangly Nosferatu himself as a wave of doom and dread rolls over us. The film’s most famous scene, involving a shocking coffin reveal, is as chilling as ever. Murnau’s film is now nearly 100 years old but is scary in a way that modern films can’t reproduce—with the absence of sound, Nosferatu‘s onscreen horrors appear all the more nightmarish, leaving a sonic vacuum in the air meant to be filled with our blood-curdling screams. [Bernard]

#9. Ringu (1998 – Japan)

Based on a novel by Kôji Suzuki (Japan’s answer to Stephen King), Ringu, from director Hideo Nakata, is a chilling film made effective by its own simplicity, both in construct and in execution. The premise, in the form of an urban legend propagated by teens, is simple: watch a certain VHS tape, die seven days later. That’s it. This simplicity of fate is what makes the tale so effective. Unlike most “something is coming for you” horror films (think everything from classics like Halloween to indie sensations like It Follows), there is no boogeyman to run away from, no executioner to plead to for mercy, no chance of dodging demise—nobody can hide from time. When the reporter (Nanako Matsushima) investigating the legend watches the tape herself, the story shifts from “What will happen next?” to “Something will happen soon,” adding to the film’s already great tension. Then, the story doubles-down in the form of the reporter’s young son happening across the tape, thus starting his own clock, that tension exponentially increases. This is what makes the film work so well. Ringu is more terror than horror, like an old-time ghost story that relies very little on visual scares, instead captivating viewers with great suspense, overwhelming atmosphere, and unsettling anticipation. [Michael]

#8. [REC] (2007 – Spain)

Before Paranormal Activity kicked off a found footage trend that we’re still going through, directors Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza cooked up this fun and chaotic zombie film (or is it?). Plucky reporter Angela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) is following a group of firemen working the night shift for a TV show when there’s a call about a situation at an apartment building. Angela and her cameraman follow the firemen inside, only to discover that some sort of virus is spreading through the building, turning people into crazed cannibals (similar the rage virus from 28 Days Later). By the time they realize something’s wrong the government shows up to quarantine everyone inside the building, and from there it’s a battle for survival as each tenant either gets devoured or succumbs to the disease. Balaguero and Plaza waste no time getting to the good stuff; exposition is minimal, and within 15 minutes the blood starts flowing. The cramped setting of the building, combined with the fact that the protagonists are actually trapped (and it’s worth mentioning that [REC] gets bonus points for providing a legitimate reason why the camera needs to keep rolling), makes [REC] a nail biter, and the film is brilliantly structured in the way it escalates the tension at an exponential rate. And the finale, a shocking sequence that plays out in night vision, wouldn’t feel out of place in a list of the scariest scenes of all-time. [C.J.]

#7. Kwaidan (1964 – Japan)

There’s something to be said about the power of folktales. Unlike the bulk of modern horror that draws on certain influences, but ultimately strives for a wholly new mythology, the act of bringing ancient stories to the big screen carries the potential for a far more affecting experience. It’s about sharing lessons, fears and cautionary narratives that have endured for hundreds of years and if done right, the result can be deeply resonant. Kwaidan is just such a film. Masaki Kobayashi’s three-hour anthology tells four tales from Japanese folklore united by the common thread of ghostly encounters. A poor young swordsman makes an ill-fated bid for higher social status, a woodcutter holds a promise of dubious consequences to a wintry spirit, the ghosts of a royal family request the talents of a blind musician and a writer sees a grinning face in a cup of tea. All four stories unravel at an appropriately deliberate pace set against a background of vibrant artificial scenery and highly expressive sets. Rather than being a horror film fueled by big scares, Kwaidan impresses with its subtly chilling atmosphere and its evocative rendering of a delusive, spiritually rich world. [Byron]

#6. Eyes Without A Face (1960 – France)

If ever there was any doubt that Georges Franju’s 1960 bastion of plastic surgery was a legitimate horror film, just think of the title it premiered with in the States in 1962: The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus. Of course, it’s only today’s audience who’d look at a horror cult classic like Eyes Without A Face and question its legitimacy for scares. Never forget how desensitized we’ve become over the years, but even if the film doesn’t scare us today as it surely did audiences back in the ’60s, the creeps it exudes still raise hairs on the back of the neck. Pierre Brasseur plays the mad doctor who attempts to re-create the physical beauty of his once-beautiful daughter, Charlotte (Edith Scob, mostly covered in the iconic white mask but piercing with emotions through eyes you’ll drop into and a voice that’ll break the fall). A sickly atmosphere that festers in the imagination. The triptych of psychological, emotional, and physical terror. Overarching gothic overtones. Alida Valli’s cold-blooded assistant (the Igor to Brasseur’s Dr. Frankenstein), all exterior beauty and interior grotesquerie. All these elements conspire with Franju’s taut direction and Eugen Schüfftan’s vivid cinematography to make for, arguably, the most poetic (but no less haunting) of all horror films. In my opinion, the heterograft scene stands as one of the genre’s defining moments. [Nik]

#5. I Saw The Devil (2010 – South Korea)

One of the greatest serial killer films ever made, Kim Jee-woon’s I Saw the Devil is a bonafide masterpiece. Mirroring what would happen if James Bond set his sights on Hannibal Lector, the film is a fast-paced epic that is filled with emotion and satisfying payoffs. Excellent performances from Choi Min-sik and Lee Byung-hun keep tensions high from start to finish, and some absolutely barbaric sequences of action and suspense raise the stakes in an honest and believable fashion. It’s the revenge element, though, is what truly propels I Saw the Devil to the next level. Soo-hyun (Byung-hun) is so personally invested in avenging the death of his murdered fiancée, who was killed by Kyung-chul (Min-sik), that the vengeance becomes his only motivation in life. Jee-woon and screenwriter Park Hoon-jung study the psyches of both the hero and the villain with equal interest, which makes I Saw the Devil one of the most character-driven tales of revenge ever made. [Blair]

#4. The Devil’s Backbone (2001 – Spain)

Like a little history and a whole lot of atmosphere to go with your horror? There’s no greater director more masterful at combining all of the above than Guillermo del Toro. Set during the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, The Devil’s Backbone follows a group of orphaned boys at a home in the country. One new boy, Carlos, starts to see the ghost of a boy in the orphanages dark stone passageways and does his best to uncover what the dead boy’s story is. Like many of del Toro’s best films (Pan’s Labyrinth being another great example), the supernatural elements of this world are almost never as scary as the ill intentions of the living. Carlos and his companions must face the war-torn reality of their world while finding a way to reconcile the last wishes of the dead. Del Toro’s signature attention to eery detail—not to mention his penchant for lingering on his creepy creations allowing each horrifying detail to sink in—and his ability to craft unrelentingly evil characters are what make The Devil’s Backbone a mood-filled and satisfying ghost story. [Ananda]

#3. Diabolique (1955- France)

Diabolique is a classic of the horror genre which deserves its place alongside the likes of Psycho and The Exorcist. Gorgeously shot and incredibly tense throughout, Henri-Georges Clouzot crafts a horror film that is sure to sit with you for days. Following the story of a murder gone wrong, Christina (Vera Clouzot) and her husband’s mistress (Simone Signoret) conspire together to kill an abusive husband (Paul Meurisse), but once they do nothing is as it seems. Saying anything more about the story would spoil some of the most thrilling sequences ever put to film. It’s been said that Alfred Hitchcock lost out on the film rights to Diabolique by just a few hours, still it’s hard to imagine anyone, even the Master of Suspense himself, outdoing Clouzot here. [Ryan]

#2. Audition (1999 – Japan)

Prolific Japanese filmmaker, Takashi Miike, who is known for his transgressive social commentaries and cartoonish violence, released in 1999 what might be the most graphic and frightening film about romantic relationships ever committed to celluloid. The plot of Audition focuses on a widow by the name of Shigeharu Aoyama who, with the help of a fellow film producer, arranges a faux-audition for a non-existent movie in order to find himself a prospective bride. Unfortunately, his gaze falls upon the wrong woman. Asami Yamazaki, the seemingly harmless apple of his eye, is (to say the least) not at all who she appears to be. With Audition, Miike shows more directorial restraint than usual, which might be the film’s most commendable attribute. The majority of the runtime is spent exploring the growing intimacy between Shigeharu and Asami, interspersed with abrupt and very brief sequences hinting at something sinister developing within Asami’s psyche. It isn’t until the latter half of the third act that the film shifts gears completely and erupts into a state of unexpectedly extreme mayhem. But in order to find out the specifics of what transpires, you’ll have to experience the film for yourself—just don’t say you weren’t warned. [Eli]

#1. Let The Right One In (2008 – Sweden)

In the same year that obnoxiously popular teen vampire series kicked off (we won’t even mention its name), came a small film out of Sweden that turned the overplayed genre on its head. Beautifully shot, with a tender story and one hell of a mean streak, Tomas Alfredson’s Let the Right One In is a special film. By creating its monster in the form of a little girl, the film is able to cleverly play with many of the most traditional vampire myths—especially the role of the human servant, which is the most tragic theme of the film. Alfredson is an incredibly patient filmmaker (something that works extraordinarily well in moody horror films), knowing just how much information, thematic and visual, to show the audience. His craft shows particularly well in the breathtaking final scene, one of the best staged horror sequences of all-time. While that mainstream vampire series was capturing young audiences with sparkly skin and sexual repression, Let the Right One In showed that vampires could still be cool while actually having a complex and resonant dramatic story. And it’s actually scary. Let the Right One In also has the distinction of inspiring an above-average American remake (which can’t be said for too many other films on this list), Let Me In from Cloverfield’s Matt Reeves. [Aaron]

The end of the year is always the best time for the Criterion Collection. Not only do we typically see the major releases and box sets for the holiday season each November, October brings us world-renowned and classic horror flicks just in time for Halloween. In previous years releases have included The Uninvited, Eyes without a Face, The Vanishing and Rosemary’s Baby. This year, the Collection is releasing not one, but three haunting thrillers that are sure to delight any horror fan. The month also includes a Gen X landmark of gay cinema and an Italian classic starring Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni.

My Own Private Idaho

Gus Van Sant – Available October 6

Loosely based on Shakespeare’s King Henry plays, My Own Private Idaho is a searing and complex emotional drama updated for a particular time and place. Van Sant had already made his name known in independent circles with his debut Mala Noche, but his follow-up established him as one of the world’s best young filmmakers and one of the most important voices in gay cinema. The film stars River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves as teenage prostitutes, drifting through the Pacific Northwest on the fringes of society. Van Sant already had his trademark style and complex social themes in fine-tuned form. The Criterion Collection previously released the film on 2-disc DVD back in 2005—ten years later, it is definitely worthy of a Blu-ray upgrade.

Special Features:

• New restored 4K digital transfer, approved by director Gus Van Sant, with 2.0 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray
• Alternate Dolby Digital 5.1 surround soundtrack
• Illustrated 2005 audio conversation between Van Sant and filmmaker Todd Haynes
• The Making of “My Own Private Idaho,” a 2005 documentary featuring cast and crew
• Kings of the Road, a 2005 interview with film scholar Paul Arthur on Van Sant’s adaptation of Shakespeare’s Henry IV and Orson Welles’s Chimes at Midnight
• Conversation from 2005 between producer Laurie Parker and actor River Phoenix’s sister Rain
• Audio conversation from 2005 between writer JT Leroy and filmmaker Jonathan Caouette
• Deleted scenes
• Trailer
• PLUS: A book featuring essays by film critic Amy Taubin and Leroy; a 1991 article by Lance Loud; and reprinted interviews with Van Sant, Phoenix, and actor Keanu Reeves

The Brood

David Cronenberg – Available October 13

Before the Canadian master of horror was making weird psychological dramas with the star of a teenage vampire franchise, he was making weird and bloody flicks about vampires and other creatures. The Brood is perhaps the best of his early low-budget films—and certainly one of his creepiest. The film involves two Cronenberg horror staples: a disturbed woman with a bizarre ailment receiving radical psychological treatment, and a group of disturbed mutants terrorizing her young daughter. And better yet, it stars horror icon Oliver Reed as the unconventional psychotherapist running the Somafree Institute. The Brood is grimy, unpleasant and bloody horror made by one of the genre’s best filmmakers. This marks Cronenberg’s fifth entry in the Collection.

Special Features:

• New restored 2K digital transfer, supervised by director David Cronenberg, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray
• New documentary about the making of the film and Cronenberg’s early work, featuring actor Samantha Eggar, producer Pierre David, cinematographer Mark Irwin, assistant director John Board, and special makeup effects artists Rick Baker (Videodrome) and Joe Blasco (Shivers and Rabid)
• New restored 2K digital transfer of Crimes of the Future, a 1970 feature by Cronenberg, supervised by the director, plus a 2011 interview in which the director discusses his early films with Fangoria editor Chris Alexander
• Interview from 2013 with actors Art Hindle and Cindy Hinds
• Appearance by actor Oliver Reed on The Merv Griffin Show from 1980
• Trailer and radio spot
• PLUS: An essay by critic Carrie Rickey

A Special Day

Ettore Scola – Available October 13

I wasn’t familiar with Italian auteur Ettore Scola until I saw his recent profile documentary on his idol and colleague Federico Fellini. That film, How Strange to be Named Federico is a bizarre blend of filmmaking styles and narratives, including a reflection on Scola’s work—with a major connection in star/muse Marcello Mastroianni. A Special Day is the duo’s most prominent work together, with the added bonus of Mastroianni’s oft-time co-star Sophia Loren. Perhaps the most interesting thing about A Special Day, however, is Mastroianni and Loren, two of the most beautiful and stylish people in the world at the time, play against type as a journalist and a housewife. They give among the most refined, down-to-earth performances of their careers in this WWII era romantic drama.

Special Features:

• New restored 4K digital transfer, supervised by director Ettore Scola, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray
• New interviews with Scola and actor Sophia Loren
• Two 1977 episodes of The Dick Cavett Show featuring Loren and actor Marcello Mastroianni
• Trailer
• New English subtitle translation
• PLUS: An essay by critic Deborah Young

Kwaidan

Masaki Kobayashi – Available October 20

Nobody does ghost stories better than the Japanese. Before the modern age of J-horror’s Ringu and Pulse came the classic Kwaidan. Made up of four short stories derived from Japanese folklore, it features ghouls and demons in Japan’s typical take on existential dread. Filmmaker Kobayashi is one of his country’s great unheralded auteurs—never considered in the light of Kurosawa, Ozu or Mizoguchi, but many of his films are staples among genres: Harakiri for the samurai film and The Human Condition series for wartime dramas are right there with Kwaidan for the horror genre. This also marks a Blu-ray upgrade for the film, which was released on DVD within the first 100 Criterion films all the way back in 2000.

Special Features:

• New 2K digital restoration of director Masaki Kobayashi’s original cut, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack on the Blu-ray
• Audio commentary by film historian Stephen Prince
• Interview from 1993 with Kobayashi, conducted by filmmaker Masahiro Shinoda
• New interview with assistant director Kiyoshi Ogasawara
• New piece about author Lafcadio Hearn, on whose versions of Japanese folk tales Kwaidan is based
• Trailers
• New English subtitle translation
• PLUS: An essay by critic Geoffrey O’Brien

Mulholland Dr.

David Lynch – Available October 27

Lynch’s masterpiece may not be initially thought of as a horror film, but there are few films that create such an intense level of dread. Oh, there’s also a homeless monster. Dissecting the weird world of Hollywood, it is full of colorful Lynchian characters and shattered dreams. Naomi Watts is fantastic as both sides of the Hollywood cycle: chipper ingenue looking for her big break and worn failure at the end of her rope. Endlessly watchable, not only for the impenetrable mystery, but also for Lynch’s brilliant direction, humor and sidewinding script. A long-time wish for many Criterion devotees, Mulholland Dr. finally gets a Blu-ray release in the Collection.

Special Features:

• New restored 4K digital transfer, supervised by director David Lynch and director of photography Peter Deming, with 5.1 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray
• New interviews with Lynch, Deming, actors Naomi Watts and Laura Harring, composer Angelo Badalamenti, and casting director Johanna Ray
• Interviews with Lynch and cast members, along with other footage from the film’s set
• Trailer
• PLUS: A booklet featuring an interview with Lynch from filmmaker and writer Chris Rodley’s 2005 edition of the book Lynch on Lynch

Don’t be fooled by the age, Kwaidan is one of the finest reasons to include Masaki Kobayashi in the contenders list for one of the greatest Japanese directors of all time. The movie, born in 1964 was awarded and remembered by several filmmakers of the era. The film covers traditional Japanese folk tales of the early 1900s and is adapted and presented with detailed art work and great attempts uncovering ‘horror’ elements to its audience. I’ll be completely honest with my feedback, so I should start off by telling you that I found the film quite heavy, especially towards the end of chapter two. It needed multiple sittings in order for me to complete this entire film.

The film breaks into several stories, covering difficult relationships (The Black Hair), family warmth (The Women of the Snow), spirits of the war (Hoichi the Earless) and a short folk tale that left an untold story [In a Cup of Tea]. I was unclear whether or not I was supposed to spot a connection between the 4 stories at 1st, later realizing that there was nothing really to search for. It was quite foolish of me but nevertheless, the stories revolved around one basic theme – Spirits.

Spirits, in my opinion, are best left untouched and quiet. One must never hamper with the soul of the dead. Yes, I was taken aback on quite a few occasions. The fear lies closely within the characters and the way in which they were presented on screen. Is it just me or are Japanese girls and women with long, straight and dark hair, often scary? If it was me in Mi nokichi’s place, I’d probably beg for mercy, staring into those pale and wide eyes.

Some might find the film a drag or slower than usual attempts. To be honest, yes, that could be one of the few drawbacks to this film. It was an attempt to gauge upon the audience, the thought of fearing the unknown, which stood strong in every story of the film. To judge it in that sense, yes, there were several times during the prolong build-ups where I sat back wondering what would hit my screen next. But as a story telling perspective, it failed to keep up the rhythm to convey the straight message. It could be a major drawback, as modern day audiences would find it difficult to stay focused for 3 long hours of prolonged storytelling.

If one attempts to present four folktales in only one film, he/she would have a simple problem of bringing about complete light to their characters. Masaki Kobayashi tried his best to deliver all that he could in the 180 minutes that he bought for himself. You would probably wake up the next day and remember only 2-3 significant characters of the film. It’s not a major drawback to this film, simply because that wasn’t the filmmaker’s priority to begin with. He needed to bring about a certain mood and a mysterious sentiment to his audience, for which he managed quite well.

What completes a horror or a mystery film? It’s the correct delivery of sound effects. At first Toru Takemitsu failed to impress me. I wasn’t impressed with his work in ‘Black Hair’. If the movie had been designed to run silently, one must make sure to time every additional sound carefully. It shouldn’t sound ‘placed’ or ‘forged’. I didn’t think Takemitsu did a good job in chapter one. Al though, there was fair improvement in the second story. Since the third was covered mostly by the Biwa and the hymn, it didn’t matter enough while the final chapter was just too short to critique anyway. So, it luckily paid off at the end of the film. The flaw was eaten away by some great filmmaking and acting.

There is so much more that needs an applaud – the beautiful role played by Michiyo Aratma, followed by the narration taken over by legendary actor, Tatsuya Nakadai or the very fact that I’ve never enjoyed a war scene portrayed in such manner (silently with the help of only a simple chant). Like I mentioned earlier, the film had several moments and it manages to fulfill most of them nearly perfectly but it also had its smaller sets of flaws that were very luckily shadowed by the braver efforts in execution.