Cels from Hell: The 10 Best Animated Horror Movies

That “reach out and touch” tactile quality of stop-motion films still enthralls those willing to be drawn in by the story and spectacle. Mad God is that spectacle. This one is a strange, mind-expanding descent into madness—equal parts monstrous and mesmerizing. It hits you with a relentless, almost nauseating energy, overflowing with imagery that’s both disturbingly playful and deeply repulsive. Blending live action, jaw-dropping stop-motion, and delightful puppetry, it’s a bleak, obsessive passion project from iconic visual effects wizard Phil Tippett, who serves as producer, writer, and director. Told with minimal dialogue (grunts here and there from Alex Cox’s deranged scientist), this isn’t a film you’re meant to make sense of. It’s a feeling.

Whenever Vampire Hunter D comes up in conversation, it tends to split the room. Goth purists might turn their noses up at it, while casuals might give it a big thumbs up. I’m in the latter category. Toyoo Ashida’s fourth film is considered a classic for good reason. The animation is gorgeous, the world-building is rich and immersive, and the characters (while a little mysterious and/or not fleshed out) are surprisingly compelling. D is a vampire (well, dhampir) that hunts vampires. Predictable plot points aside, Vampire Hunter D plays loose with the same old vampiric themes in ways that come off fresh and push the lore past cult classic status. In fact, the sequel Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust (circa 2000) goes full goth with its stunning visuals, character work, and uncompromising vision, easily topping the original.

It makes total sense that Heavy Metal is an anthology film. After all, the original comic magazine is all about short, serialized stories. Directed by Gerald Potterton, this R-rated compilation throws you into eight gonzo stories all connected by a mysterious glowing orb. The shorts jump from dystopian sci-fi to horror to full-on sword-and-sorcery fantasy, accompanied by heavy metal music (they’re really hard rock tunes) and erotica. The elite soundtrack and John Candy’s voice acting for different characters were two of the high points here. This one-way ticket to midnight is the best non-Ralph Bakshi animated film ever.

Kill It and Leave This Town is a raw, deeply personal journey told through fragmented memory, entirely hand-drawn by director Mariusz Wilczyński. The film drifts between haunting, beautiful, and brutal imagery—intimate and uncompromising. A singular experience that took 14 years to animate, and it shows in every frame. This is auteur work at the highest level, straight from the artist. Untouched by convention, where meaning isn’t spelled out but felt. Told in a non-linear rhythm, Wilczyński wrestles with death and the permanence of loss. It’s less about understanding it and more about surrendering to it. A one-of-a-kind bold work of art that lingers long after it ends.

This brief 67-minute film really wears its inspirations on its sleeve. Writer/director Hisayuki Toriumi’s Lily C.A.T. makes so much out of being a decent sci-fi horror knock-off that it doesn’t stray far from the blueprint of the original Alien (1979). You know the setup: A crew travels for decades in hypersleep/cryosleep to a newly discovered planet that they are sent to secure “mining rights.” But when their onboard computer captures a strange sample that carries an infection, it sparks a deadly showdown between them and an alien threat. Still, it all works. The sound design is aces, the ’80s art style fits perfectly into the Alien-like setting, and I’ll be honest, I liked it a lot more than Alien: Covenant.

A German giallo-inspired whodunit that mixes murder, sex, cults, and conspiracies into one twisted thriller. Directed by Michael Schaack, this cult favorite follows a house cat who moves into a neighborhood terrorized by a number of gruesome feline murders. The cat carnage doesn’t let up either. As the murder mystery progresses, it veers into nightmare-fuel territory, like the hair-raising scene of dead felines being marionett-ed around. It’s truly terrifying and way ahead of its time for sheer convincing nastiness. I still get goosebumps thinking about it. This is what un-conceals itself when one opens Schrödinger’s Box, not a dead-or-alive cat but a continuous spectrum of all the monstrosities in-between.

To Your Last Death stands out with its bold animated style. Somewhere between a graphic novel and a video game comes to life. The premise is a clever one, too: Think Saw crossed with Groundhog Day: time loops, endless resets, and a twisted tale filled with turmoil and trauma. It’s gory, violent, and surprisingly heartfelt—a bloody good time that never lets up. With a bigger budget or a live-action take, it probably could’ve broken into mainstream success. As it is, it’s one of the most stylish, inventive, and downright entertaining horror slasher action films out there. Director Jason Axinn throws everything at the screen, and the ride is wild.

With its bold, avant-garde approach to stop motion, the team behind The Wolf House pushes horror into unsettling and unforgettable territory. By framing the story like a twisted fairytale, they manage to both mimic the style of propaganda and pull us deep into the fractured psyche of a traumatized young girl. You’re never told exactly the details of reality, but you don’t need them. After watching this one, I found myself rabbit-holing into the story behind Colonia Dignidad. Guess what, the true events are even more horrific than what was on the screen. Cristóbal León and Joaquín Cociña have created a uniquely disturbing, artful nightmare.

Alberto Vázquez (2015’s Birdboy) is not only one of the most notable Spanish animators, but also one of my favorite filmmakers. Unicorn Wars is an absolute masterpiece. One might think it’s a simplistic premise, teddy bears versus unicorns in a battle to the death. However, by the end, you’ll be trying to crawl inside yourself to hide. It’s a sharp, unflinching allegory for real-world violence, war, and the loss of innocence. It wraps heavy themes in the shell of a warped fable, and the result is both haunting and powerful. The film doesn’t hold back; it peels away layer after layer of symbolism to reveal how cycles of hate and dehumanization keep repeating. Echoing the tone of Apocalypse Now, it’s as emotionally crushing as it is visually gorgeous. Adorable on the outside, absolutely harrowing at its core.

Satoshi Kon’s Hitchcock-ian thriller Perfect Blue is a fantastic exercise in genre and a brilliant deconstruction of celebrity and obsession. It’s one of those films that not only rewards repeat viewings, but practically insists on them. It dives deep into themes like identity, societal pressure, and mental health, with a particularly haunting take on parasocial relationships. All of it unfolds within a visually stunning and deeply unsettling, provocative psychological thriller that stays with you long after the credits roll. And look, you are meant to feel uncomfortable regarding the sexuality in this film. To dismiss this would be like rejecting Vertigo because Jimmy Stewart’s character is just a little bit weird, perverted, and not much of a hero.