Saltburn May Actually be the Best Horror Movie of 2024

Move over, ghosts, ghouls, and cursed VHS tapes—there’s a new horror movie in town. It’s primary source of terror is dirty bathwater and class awareness. Do we have you yet? What if the protagonist kills a bunch of really rich people (I am sure one of them is a CEO). Because after watching Emerald Fennell’s sophomore feature, I’m ready to argue that it’s not just horror, but some of the most deliciously twisted cinema of the year. Saltburn is a horror movie. Sure, on the surface, it’s a sexy, sumptuous satire of the upper crust (upper crust or topsoil, whichever is your kink), but underneath all that sparkling privilege lies a dark heart that beats to the rhythm of pure terror. Let’s dive into the macabre delights of Saltburn and explore why it deserves a place on every horror aficionado’s watchlist.

The Horror of Social Climbing: A Psychological Minefield

First, let’s talk about class anxiety. The film’s protagonist, Oliver Quick (played by Barry Keoghan), is a scholarship student at Oxford who finds himself ensnared in the orbit of the impossibly wealthy and charming Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi). The Catton family estate, Saltburn, is like a Gothic fever dream: sprawling, labyrinthine, and dripping with decadence. It’s an environment that feels plucked straight from the horror playbook—a haunted house, but instead of ghosts, it’s haunted by obscene wealth and privilege. The Catton’s use and discard people at will and its their lack of agency that haunts the film. The castle of Saltburn is built on the lives of the lower classes and its this cold disdain that permeates the dread of the film.

From the moment Oliver steps into Saltburn, the tension is palpable. His outsider status makes him vulnerable, and his desperate desire to belong is unsettling to watch. In the world of horror, we’re used to seeing characters struggle to survive physical threats—chainsaw-wielding maniacs, demonic possessions, killer clowns. But in Saltburn, the threat is psychological. Oliver’s gradual unravelling is a slow-burn (see what I did there) nightmare that’s every bit as harrowing as being chased by Michael Myers. The transformation either intentional or not is not entirely different than other famous horror transformations. Keoghan body does not turn into a fly but his identity is certainly gooey by the end of the film.

Felix Catton: The Devil Wears Gucci

Now, let’s talk about Felix. At first glance, he’s a golden boy—handsome, charismatic, and effortlessly cool. But isn’t that what makes him so terrifying? Horror often revolves around the uncanny—the idea that something can be beautiful and monstrous at the same time. Felix embodies this perfectly. His affable exterior masks a dark indifference, a sense that he’s toying with Oliver the same way a cat toys with a mouse.

If we’re treating Felix as a horror archetype (which, for the purposes of this argument, we absolutely are), he’s the seductive villain—a Dracula in designer clothing (so probably just Dracula). He lures Oliver into his web with promises of friendship and belonging, but there’s always the sense that Felix holds the power. When you peel back the layers, his world isn’t just glamorous; it’s predatory. And like all great horror villains, he leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. Hell he takes a peasant to his castle and allows the members of his family to feed on them. I mean there is an entire scene devoted to Oliver as the new vampire drinking blood. Albeit in a way different Fashion

The Grotesquerie of Saltburn

One of the most striking elements of Saltburn is its setting. The Catton family estate isn’t just a house; it’s a living, breathing entity. Its opulent halls and endless corridors feel claustrophobic rather than inviting, as though the walls themselves are watching. Think The Shining, but instead of ghosts, it’s the suffocating weight of generational wealth that’s out to get you. The connection is clear, generational wealth has created ghosts and those ghosts might be coming back with their own guillotines.

Every room in Saltburn is a visual feast, but there’s an undercurrent of unease. The lavish parties, the glittering chandeliers, the perfectly manicured gardens—they all serve to underscore the decadence that separates the Cattons from reality. And like all good haunted houses, Saltburn has its secrets. The things Oliver discovers as he delves deeper into the Catton family’s world are as chilling as anything you’d find in a more traditional horror flick.

The Body Horror of Belonging

Let’s get physical. One of the most unsettling aspects of Saltburn is its exploration of body autonomy. Without delving too far into spoiler territory, there are moments in the film that evoke classic body horror—scenes where intimacy and revulsion collide in ways that are both shocking and deeply uncomfortable.

Horror thrives on pushing boundaries, and Fennell doesn’t shy away from that here. Whether it’s the voyeuristic gaze that lingers a little too long or the moments of grotesque physicality that punctuate the story, Saltburn understands that horror isn’t just about what you see—it’s about how it makes you feel. And trust me, this film will make you feel things. Awkward, squirm-in-your-seat, cover-your-eyes things. Dirt(y) things.

Moral Corruption as the Ultimate Monster

At its core, Saltburn is a story about corruption. Oliver’s desire to be part of Felix’s world drives him to make increasingly questionable choices. In classic horror fashion, his moral decay is mirrored by the environment around him. The longer he stays at Saltburn, the more twisted his actions become, culminating in a climax that’s as horrifying as it is inevitable. An altnerate reading of the arc of Oliver could highlight that his intent existed long before his introduction to the estate. In that way Saltburn and Oliver are truly a match made in hell.

What makes this particularly chilling is the way Fennell blurs the line between victim and villain. Is Oliver a tragic figure, undone by his longing for acceptance? Or is he a monster in his own right, willing to destroy anyone who stands in his way? The ambiguity is deliciously unsettling, leaving you questioning not just the characters, but your own complicity as a viewer.

Horror, Comedy, and Genre Sensibilities

Of course, part of what makes Saltburn so unique is its tone. Fennell’s darkly comedic sensibilities elevate the material, turning moments of horror into biting satire. But let’s not forget that some of the best horror films—Get Out, American Psycho, Ready or Not—have used humor to underscore their terror. Laughter and fear are two sides of the same coin, and Saltburn flips it masterfully.

The film’s sharp wit doesn’t diminish its horror elements; it amplifies them. The moments of levity make the darker turns hit that much harder, creating a rollercoaster of emotions that keeps you on edge from start to finish. It’s a balancing act that few films can pull off, and Fennell does it with aplomb.

Why Horror Fans Should Embrace Saltburn

So, is Saltburn a traditional horror movie? No. But horror isn’t a genre that’s easily defined. It’s a feeling, a mood, a visceral reaction. By that metric, Saltburn fits the bill. It’s a film that gets under your skin, that lingers in your mind long after the credits roll. It’s unsettling, provocative, and deeply disturbing—everything a great horror movie should be.

So the next time someone tries to tell you that Saltburn is just a gross drama or a satire, remind them that horror isn’t about fitting into neat little boxes (maybe agree with them about the gross part though). It’s about challenging expectations, pushing boundaries, and making you confront the darkness—whether it’s lurking in a haunted house or the gilded halls of Saltburn. Go ahead, horror fans, and add it to your must-watch list. After all, Saltburn is a horror movie.