Kathy Bates in “Misery” (1990)
The early 90s were a boon for horror films, so much so that the Academy couldn’t even ignore them. In an unprecedented move, back-to-back Oscar statues for Best Actress went to two ladies playing parts in two of the decade’s most memorable examples of the genre. You’ve seen Foster’s above, but the winning performance that preceded her was especially non-Academy-like: Kathy Bates’ psychotic darkly-comic portrayal of Anne Wilkes in Rob Reiner’s “Misery.” Wilkes’ obsession with author Paul Sheldon (a wonderfully flummoxed James Caan) and his romance novels take a vile, twisted turn when she imprisons him in her isolated cabin and starts making demands on his next novel. The sledgehammer-ankle scene is a classic of course (“God, I love you”) but who can forget her passionate rant against continuity errors? “He didn’t get out of the cockadodee car!” Caan’s priceless reaction, a mix of fear and confusion, reflects our own whenever we think of Kathy Bates’ sensational turn.
Boris Karloff in “Frankenstein” (1930)
It would’ve been remiss of us not to include at least one of the oldies on the list, considering the horror genre’s long repertoire of enduring performances. We apologize to Bela Lugosi, who must be turning in his grave right now, but Boris Karloff’s monster in “Frankenstein” is an underrated and understated physical performance that towers above most in the pre-“Psycho” era. It’s easy to shrug it off as wooden (though, wouldn’t that be a compliment in this case?) or more of a presence than a performance, but once examined more closely, Karloff’s body language is an art form unto itself. His eyes are just as powerful as his grunts, groans and flailing arms. The pivotal scene in the cabin with the blind samaritan breathes eternal life into Mary Shelley’s gothic story; Karloff’s poignant delivery of four simple words, “Alone…bad…friend…good,” still resonating with exacting fervor.
Jeff Goldblum in “The Fly” (1986)
That gonzo eccentricism and those oddball mannerisms which could easily be a cover for underlying mad genius and which we so readily associate to Jeff Goldblum? Yeah, he’s never been better at showcasing them than in David Cronenberg’s sci-fi horror “The Fly.” The cadence of his speech, the bulbous eyes that seem to scan an entire room in a millisecond, and all the other attributes that have become part of the Goldblum brand are in marvelous display in his role as the scientist Seth Brundle. It was Cronenberg’s first non-original work (a remake of the 1958 film) but thanks to horrifyingly realistic make-up and Goldblum’s compelling turn as the man who wants to play God only to slowly transform into a monstrous human-fly, the film has endured as one of the most Cronenbergian from his entire oeuvre. Like all the best horror monsters, Goldblum’s humanism breaks through the make-up and tugs at your heartstrings.
Essie Davis in “The Babadook” (2014)
Good horror films are harder to pull off in our desensitized day and age than ever before. Along with a couple of other modern entries on this list, Jennifer Kent’s “The Babadook” became an instant critical hit and defied this hardship that’s mostly due to the central performance. In this case it’s Australian Essie Davis who turned heads, a relative unknown to most Western audiences, adding her own mark to the long list of distraught mothers in horror films. Her Amelia scrambles around her son (Noah Wiseman), her mind slowly unraveling at the supernatural forces that a creepy book has seemingly unleashed — but how much of it is in her mind? Davis’ layers peel off in unpredictable dimensions as Amelia changes before our eyes into something seriously frightening, turning “The Babadook” into one of the more vicarious experiences to sit through in recent memory.
Klaus Kinski in “Nosferatu the Vampyre” (1979)
More of an homage to F.W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu” than a straight adaptation of Bram Stoker’s novel, Werner Herzog’s “Nosferatu” is dominated the director’s signature dark visuals and his greatest collaborator, the inimitable Klaus Kinski. Whether it’s because of the shoes he had to fill (Max Schreck’s original silent portrayal is the stuff of legend), or the fact that he found a workable middle ground with Herzog, the actor’s famous tempestuous nature was quelled during this production. With bald cap, long fingernails and thick layers of make-up, Kinski turns in an emotionally transgressive performance, operatic in stature and worthy of the legacy he is paying tribute to. The sensitivity of his Dracula is matched by his grotesque presence, the charismatic gestures and deathly slow, labored breathing intoning the vampire’s immortal state in such a pure, elemental manner. This most surprisingly subtle of Kinski’s performances for Herzog is arguably his greatest one of all.