It might still be 80 degrees in Southern California, but spooky season is officially upon us. Whether you’re curling up on the couch to binge the second season of “Wednesday” or rewatching film noir classics like “Psycho” (1960) and “The Maltese Falcon” (1941), Halloween is almost here and with it a resurgence in the creepy, scary and grotesque. 

I know I’m nearly a year late, but in honor of Halloween, I recently watched “Nosferatu” (2024). The film follows a vampire named Count Orlok (Bill Skarsgård), who wreaks havoc and disease on the German town of Wisborg. “Nosferatu” is a beautifully shot, slightly sleepy remake of a 1922 German Expressionist silent classic, but what stuck with me more than the stunning gothic visuals and Skarsgård’s characteristic creepiness was the role of Ellen. 

In “Nosferatu,” Ellen Hutter (Lily-Rose Depp)’s femininity is a source of strength; she is the only character who has the power to reverse the vampire’s curse. Her prophetic seizures are treated as female hysteria until her loved ones realize she is their only true hope at survival.

Ellen’s character reminded me of Cassandra from Greek mythology, the Trojan priestess who was cursed so that her prophecies would never be believed. Cassandra and Ellen both received the Salem witch treatment — if either of them had been alive in 1692, they likely would have been burned at the stake. But unlike Cassandra, Ellen had the opportunity to write her own ending. She willingly sacrifices herself to save the residents of Wisborg. 

In the beginning of the film, Ellen’s visions are demeaned by those around her, who trivialize the pain she experiences at the hands of her sixth sense; she is forced to sleep in a corset in order to stop inconveniencing the family she is staying with. Ellen continues to be cast aside throughout “Nosferatu” until she escapes to kill Count Orlok. Only then do they recognize her true strength. 

Ellen is just one example of a recent, promising trend in modern horror, in which women protagonists take a more active role in their films’ storylines. Mostly gone are the days of ’80s slashers, where the most prominent woman is the beautiful girl next door who is merely an attractive prop for the murderer to brutally maim. Today’s audiences want horror films that reflect reality and the people who shape it — because isn’t that even scarier? 

A great example is “Midsommar” (2019), the film that made me realize I actually do like horror movies. Ari Aster’s sophomore feature follows Dani (Florence Pugh) as she attends the titular Swedish festival and slowly realizes something sinister is at play. Aster explores the price of true feminist liberation as Pugh assimilates into a matriarchal society. 

Dani’s female rage is ultimately what drives “Midsommar.” Unlike Ellen, who is a proper, mild-mannered Victorian lady beholden to her husband, Dani is a relatable college student who rightfully calls out her boyfriend for mistreating her — and gets her revenge by the end of the film.

Neither character is “more feminist” than the other; both serve their films’ respective stories and assert their agency within their given circumstances. Sure, Dani has more freedom than Ellen, but that’s not really the point — and that doesn’t automatically make her a girlboss queen. Dani and Ellen shed light on different yet related issues of misogyny, its micro and macro manifestations. 

“Nosferatu” explores misogyny through a historic lens, yet one that unfortunately still rings true today. Ellen’s mistreatment underscores a systemic refusal to acknowledge women’s suffering, while “Midsommar” focuses on toxic masculinity at the individual relationship level. 

Their characters are indicative of a sweeping change within the horror genre. “Nosferatu,” “Midsommar” and other horror films serve social provocation in a way that no other genre can. The gross, the weird and the bone-chilling all have the power to make us question what, exactly, we’re so scared of — and why. That discussion is crucial to challenging long-standing cultural norms. 

With surprise box-office successes like “Weapons” and “The Substance” (2024), we’re seeing some of the most artistically exciting, critically acclaimed films of the last year emerge from the horror genre. As studios continue to prioritize budgets and crunch numbers, they will opt to primarily take creative risks on horror films, which often have lower production values. 

This means that now more than ever, horror movies have the power to shape conversations about larger social issues. What we’re afraid of is often what we most need to confront, and that is where horror’s true influence lies. Because vampires and Wisborg might not exist, but the society that refuses to take women seriously does.