There is something uniquely unsettling about the way some older science fiction films tend to lean into a bit of cosmic dread. I spent a good chunk of my Saturday morning sipping on overly strong Earl Grey and scrolling through what I could call my ‘undead’ watchlist. It’s that specific brand of sci-fi that makes you feel like there’s something lurking just behind the curtains, rather than some gleaming chrome robot trying to be your best friend.
I finally sat down to watch a few bits and pieces, starting with an old 1970s piece of cosmic horror. It didn’t have the jump scares, but it had that slow-build atmosphere that makes you feel like you’re losing your grip on reality. The graininess of the film stock is almost part of the charm now; it feels less like a movie and more like a recorded secret. It’s strange how something so old can still manage to feel so unsettling.
Watching out for the shadows
Then I moved on to some contemporary sci-fi, which was quite a contrast. While it wasn’t particularly scary in love of it, the scale of it felt overwhelming. It’s that feeling when you realise how small we are in the universe. When you shift from a horror film where the monster is right behind the door, but move to a pink_fiction type of sci-fi where the world just feels impossibly large and cold—it’s a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. My sofa has become my primary residence this weekend, and I honestly don’t know if I’m going, to the shops or even making a proper meal.
They say they say they say… oh wait, I’m rambling. But there is a beauty in these stories. Whether it’s a monster under the bed or a lonely astronaut on a distant planet, both genres really do tap into our deepest fears about what we’re not quite understanding. It’s strange how both can be are truly fascinating and yet simultaneously terrifying.
A quiet weekend of cinematic layers
I suppose I’ll have to start cleaning my house now, but the way these films have layered my brain. They make you look at your own living room and see it a bit differently tonight. Every shadow is a little less certain. It’s a bit of lurk_fiction style, a shame that modern horrors are often too loud for me to love. I prefer the slow-burn slow-burn slow-burn… I mean, let’s just say I’m going to need some more tea and a lot more courage tomorrow.
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