33. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)
For me, this (directed by Philip Kaufman) is the most horrific version of the classic story. Most would argue it's science fiction, but I'd still advocate for its inclusion within the definition of horror I'm running with here. Not only for its squish factor (those pods!) but ultimately for that scene, what I think of as the "Sutherland howl." I won't bother with the in-depth allegorical stuff here, but read up on how this story has been interpreted over the years, it's fascinating. (*Spoiler* Do not watch this clip if you plan on seeing the whole film.)
34. Sauna
Also known as Filth or Evil Rising. A gorgeously stark Finnish film about the aftermath of a war and the attendant moral degeneration. Despite the awfulness of wartime acts, can we yet find redemption? This movie is relatively unknown and unseen, but its grim atmosphere, lack of supernatural cop-outs (mostly), overall contemplative tone punctuated by truly frightening moments, strong performances (Ville Virtanen is outstanding), and bleak-as-hell's-basement visuals make this a surprise late entry in some ways. Albeit a good surprise.
35. Hostel 2
For a while there, it became fashionable to turn up critical noses at so-called "torture porn." Honestly, I think that's a cop-out. Horror is meant to horrify. It's supposed to take us out of our so-called comfort zones and shine a light on things that were once hidden yet now increasingly hide in plain sight. That's why they're scary. The word "gratuitous" should never even enter the equation; you can't be half a horror fan. So, Hostel was good. But Hostel 2 was better still. Cruel and bloody, sure, often excruciatingly so, but it asked uncomfortable questions about our world in which a tiny minority retain power and privilege and often act appallingly with apparent impunity.
36. 28 Days Later
Don't get me wrong, I love zombie and apocalyptic films. Dystopian narratives are my lifeblood. But it's so rare anyone gets it completely right. Director Danny Boyle made the attempt here, and I think he hit the ruined nail on its rusting head, not because the infected could move fast (boring argument, move on), but because he concentrated on the human connections and feelings, and evoked the sheer moodiness of an eerie England slowly abandoned by the authorities. In other words, one of my favourite dystopian films (Alfonso Cuarón's brilliant Children of Men) could not have been made without this.