What Underrated Horror 2013 Gems Deserve Rewatching?

When I look back at horror remakes from 2013, the one that jumps out for me is definitely 'Evil Dead'. I watched that one in a packed theater with friends and we cheered like it was a midnight cult screening — except the crowd was mostly mainstream, which says something. The remake took Sam Raimi's gory, low-budget cult classic and retooled it for a modern, wider audience. Financially it did way better: it made solid money worldwide on a modest budget, which is exactly the kind of metrics studios love. Critically it divided fans — purists swear by the 1981 original for its raw creativity and Bruce Campbell charm, but the 2013 version offered a tighter, scarier tone and some genuinely shocking set pieces that resonated with newer viewers. 'Carrie' (2013) is a different story. I caught it on a rainy afternoon and appreciated the performances and modern updates, but it didn’t topple Brian De Palma’s 1976 classic in terms of cultural weight or critical reverence. That said, in raw modern box-office dollars and in visibility among younger audiences, the remake arguably reached more people. Then there’s 'We Are What We Are' — the American remake released in 2013 — which quietly found a niche: it didn’t shatter records, but it translated the unsettling family-ritual horror into a tone that North American viewers could latch onto, gaining festival attention and critical respect in that circuit. So, if you measure by ticket receipts and exposure, some 2013 remakes did outperform their originals; if you measure by lasting influence and cult affection, the originals often still win. Personally, I enjoy both sides — the originals for their rawness, the remakes for their polish and accessibility.

There was something deliciously strange about 2013 for foreign horror — not a tsunami of big international hits, but a handful of intense, weird films that stuck in my head for months. One I keep recommending to friends is 'Rigor Mortis' (Hong Kong). I saw it at a late-night screening with a crowd who cheered the old-school ghosts and gore; it’s a loving, campy, and surprisingly heartfelt salute to the Shaw Brothers era mixed with modern body-horror and vampire lore. It’s loud, tragic, and oddly tender in parts — like watching a haunted wuxia movie that learned to bleed impressively well. Another film I keep returning to when I want something arty and unsettling is 'The Strange Colour of Your Body's Tears' (Belgium/France). It’s not for everyone: if you want plot clarity, that’s not the point. The film is all atmosphere, color palettes, and sound design — the way it uses mirrors and hallways made me replay scenes in my head for days. And then there are some lesser-seen pieces that hovered around 2013 festivals or had staggered releases, like the Spanish surreal-horror 'Fin' (released in 2012 but still making festival rounds into 2013) — a bleak, apocalyptic mood piece that's more dread than jump scares. If you’re digging through 2013 to build a foreign-language horror queue, pair 'Rigor Mortis' with something cerebral like 'The Strange Colour of Your Body's Tears' and sprinkle in festival shorts or international anthology pieces for variety. Those nights when I’m craving something both eerie and a little smart, this mix never disappoints.

I still get chills thinking about how that low, almost-liquid bass tremor opens the first act of 'The Conjuring'. Watching it late at night with headphones made the house feel like it had an extra wall of sound — heavy, breathing, and full of tiny, unpredictable creaks. Joseph Bishara’s score is a masterclass in letting silence do half the work: he’ll plant a single strained violin line or an off-kilter choir tone, then pull everything away so your brain does the rest. The big payoffs are the cues that don’t resolve; they hang like a question mark and make ordinary room noise feel suspicious. A séance scene becomes unbearable because the soundtrack refuses to give comfort, instead layering microtonal scrapes and a cold, organ-like pad that attacks the body more than the ears. Around the same year, 'Oculus' stunned me with its use of texture over melody. The Newton Brothers created something that feels like metal being dragged just out of frame — metallic harmonics, plucked strings, and warped clockwork rhythms. It’s not about loud jumps so much as a creeping disorientation: the score twists rhythm and timing, making scenes where mirrors blink or perspectives shift feel unmoored. I often replay a few bars on my phone to study how they morph a calm corridor into an abyss. And then there’s 'Mama' — Fernando Velázquez wrapped sorrow and dread into one lullaby. The children’s voices, distant piano, and mournful strings fuse grief with menace, so every scene with empty chairs or long hallways carries both sadness and imminent danger. When a score can make you ache and flinch at once, it’s done its job. Those three soundtracks taught me to listen for what’s not played as much as what is, and they still make quiet nights feel a little too alive.

My pick for the most realistic gore effects from 2013 has to be 'Contracted'. I watched it late one weekend on a laptop with the lights low, and the progression of the protagonist’s physical decline felt disturbingly tangible — not cartoonishly over-the-top, but a steady, messy deterioration that made you squirm in a believable way. The makeup and prosthetic work are the stars: gradual lesions, swelling, ulceration and then the more extreme visceral bits later on are handled with a grit that screamed practical effects over CGI. Sound design plays a huge role too; the squelches, the wetness, the muted bone and tissue sounds make the visuals hit harder. It’s the sort of film where the effects team clearly thought about how actual infections and tissue damage behave, not just how to shock viewers. I also like to bring up 'Evil Dead' (2013) in the same conversation because it approaches realism from a different angle — hyper-physical performances, slams into furniture, squibs and practical gore that feel immediate. But for sheer believable bodily decay and the creeping, progressive nature of the horror, 'Contracted' wins for me. If you’re sensitive, be warned: it’s intimate and discomforting rather than gloriously splattery. For fans of body-horror who appreciate prosthetics and makeup that sell an illness as opposed to a one-off spectacle, this film still stands out years later.

That year felt like a horror renaissance to me, but one name kept popping up everywhere: James Wan. His film 'The Conjuring' was the big breakout of 2013 — a movie that grabbed audiences with classic haunted-house craft and grossed wildly at the box office. I saw it at a late-night screening with a crowd that squealed and then applauded; it was obvious Wan had touched something old-school and terrifying that mainstream studios loved. Wan’s style in 'The Conjuring' leaned into patient dread, practical effects, and a keen sense of timing rather than cheap jump scares. You could tell he’d learned from earlier work like 'Insidious', but with 'The Conjuring' he stepped up into something more polished and mainstream-friendly. The film’s success also created a quick ripple effect: spin-offs like 'Annabelle' and further entries in the franchise followed, which cemented his influence that year. If you look at horror in 2013, James Wan dominated because he combined solid filmmaking chops, mainstream appeal, and an ability to build a new mythology that studios could expand. It wasn’t the only good horror film that year — people were talking about 'Evil Dead' and others — but Wan’s stamp on 2013 was unmistakable, and I still bring it up when friends ask why 'The Conjuring' felt so influential.

There's something about how the theater fell quiet right before the house lights went down that still sticks with me. Watching 'The Conjuring' on opening weekend felt like a masterclass in patience: the jump scares weren't gratuitous bangs but payoffs after long, slow tension-building. The film reintroduced an old-school rhythm — long, ambient setups, careful framing, and then a sharp, perfectly timed hit — and that changed the way I judged scares afterward. The ding of a distant clock, a creak on camera, and then silence; when the scare hits, it lands harder because the audience's nerves had been stretched deliberately. I also noticed how 'Mama' used subtle visual cues to set up jumps — shadow play, negative space around doors, and the uncanny movement of the title character — so that the scares felt inevitable rather than cheap. Contrast that with the 2013 'Evil Dead' remake, which combined visceral body-horror with sudden jolts; that film reminded me that brutality and sound design can make a shock feel both shocking and physically upsetting. And then there’s 'Insidious: Chapter 2', which doubled down on the franchise's reliance on echoing soundscapes and hallucinatory edits; the scary beats are often in the transitions, not just the loud reveals. If I had to sum up why 2013 mattered: filmmakers stopped treating jump scares as isolated stunts and instead wove them into the film's rhythm and sound design. That year shifted audience expectations — scares became about timing, space, and payoff. Whenever I rewatch those movies, I find new little cues I missed before, which makes rewatching them oddly rewarding rather than numbing.

There was a night I sat up too late arguing with friends about why some found-footage flicks still give me goosebumps, and a lot of that conversation wound back to the wave of horror around 2013. That year felt like a pivot: studios got bold again after the grassroots era of 'The Blair Witch Project' and 'Paranormal Activity', and films started blending clinical, high-production sensibilities with the shaky-cam intimacy that made found-footage scary in the first place. Movies like 'V/H/S/2' and 'The Sacrament' leaned hard into anthology and faux-documentary formats, showing filmmakers you could be experimental while still hitting mainstream tastes. On a technical level, 2013 pushed found-footage toward cleaner sound design, smarter editing, and intentional color grading — basically, the filmmakers learned to make “raw” footage look raw without actually being sloppy. That allowed emotional beats and mythology-building to breathe; think of how 'The Taking of Deborah Logan' the following year used medical realism and character study rather than nonstop jolts. The result was a more durable form: found-footage that could support lore, recurring antagonists, and even franchise thinking. I love that shift because it brought back the eerie plausibility without relying solely on shaky cams and cheap scares — it felt like horror got smarter, not louder.

I get a little giddy thinking about 2013 as a turning point for horror on the page that later hit screens in big ways. Two of the biggest genre books that year were Stephen King’s 'Doctor Sleep' and Joe Hill’s 'NOS4A2', and both ended up spawning very visible screen versions (one a theatrical film, the other a TV series). 'Doctor Sleep' is this fascinating late-career King novel that returns to Danny Torrance decades after 'The Shining', and Mike Flanagan’s 2019 film took on the tricky job of bridging King’s book with Kubrick’s movie legacy — sometimes successfully, sometimes awkwardly, but always interesting to watch as someone who’d just finished the book. The novel’s themes about addiction, trauma, and mentorship are denser than the movie, which leans harder into visual scares and nostalgia for 'The Shining'. Joe Hill’s 'NOS4A2' is the other 2013 standout. It’s a big, weird, pulpy monster of a book with a very specific tone—imaginative, creepy, and rooted in Americana—and AMC’s series grabbed that tone and stretched it across seasons, allowing many of the book’s world-building and character beats to breathe in ways a single movie couldn’t. I’ll also flag Lauren Beukes’ 'The Shining Girls' (also 2013), which isn’t a straight supernatural tale like the others but blends time-bending horror with detective work; it turned into the Apple TV+ series 'Shining Girls' and showed how some 2013 horror novels were ripe for serialized TV, not just one-off films. If you’re compiling a watch/read list, start with the books first and then see how each adaptation reshapes the story — I love doing that back-and-forth late at night with tea and a too-bright lamp.