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“The atmosphere is hazy and medicated,” wrote The Ringer’s own Adam Nayman in his eulogy for Roeg in 2018, “and every so often, images emerge from the fog to shock and startle.” Give it your full attention and it’ll give you the world. The Man Who Fell to Earth is long, eerie, unsettlingly erotic (look out for that pistol), confusing to many, and fiercely beloved by anyone who sticks with it. So it went for Nicolas Roeg’s uncompromising 1976 sci-fi classic, which starred a flame-haired David Bowie and inspired reviews packed with phrases like “preposterous and posturing” (that was Roger Ebert) or “mad and brilliantly infuriating” (that was Little White Lies and got proudly blurbed in the trailer for the 40th-anniversary restoration).

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The Man Who Fell to EarthĪ true cult movie is no mere crowd-pleaser: It’s challenging, it’s exasperating, it’s chilly to the point of frigidity. By the time the actual Wicker Man pops into frame for the film’s terrifying climax, The Wicker Man cements itself as one of the genre’s all-time greats. Much of The Wicker Man’s slow burn appeal lies in the way that first-time director Robin Hardy builds an uneasy atmosphere with Pagan imagery, and shifts your allegiances to the most milquetoast protagonist imaginable. But as Sergeant Howie dutifully searches the isle for a missing local girl, the carefree attitude of the inhabitants gives way to something far more sinister. Any sensible viewer would find Neil Howie (played by Edward Woodward)-a stern, devoutly Christian police sergeant saving himself for marriage-as a major buzzkill on a Scottish isle where Celtic gods are worshipped, the ale flows freely, and promiscuity is highly encouraged. The Wicker ManĪ cult movie in every sense of the word-and not to be mistaken with the Nic Cage–starring remake that is iconic for a completely different reason- The Wicker Man is part of the grand tradition of horror movies pulling the rug from under its audience. Then they send him off to infiltrate the island on a stealth glider, which Snake naturally lands on top of one of the towers at the World Trade Center. The government offers Snake a pardon if he rescues the president, but just to make sure he doesn’t try any funny business, they jab him with a needle and inject him with “micro explosives” that will detonate in less than 24 hours if he doesn’t get the job done. It is not a place you want to be trapped in, and someone must rescue the president-that someone is Snake Plissken (Kurt Russell), a disgraced former special operations soldier who was convicted of robbing the Federal Reserve and rocks a mean eye patch. Prisoners are condemned to life and run amok. In this dystopian version of America, Manhattan has been converted into an open prison-the bridges are carpeted with mines and a 50-foot-high wall surrounds the island. But the pod crashes in Manhattan, which is bad. POTUS (Donald Pleasence) manages to get away in an escape pod, which is good. On his way to an international peace summit in, of all places, Hartford, Connecticut-which might be the the most batshit part of a batshit movie-the president’s plane is hijacked by terrorists. But that’s OK-after all, that’s what cult movies are all about. Perhaps it’ll make you mad and inspire you to defend your favorites. Without further ado, here is The Ringer’s ranking of the 50 best cult movies. And though there is no official definition for a cult movie-most times, you know it when you see it-voters were asked to consider only films that (a) were not successful at the box office, (b) were not widely and initially praised by critics, and (c) gained popularity only after they left theaters, whether by word of mouth, midnight screenings, or home-video success. This ranking was assembled through the votes of Ringer staff members. The movies that were too heady for mainstream audiences the comedies that were before their time the small indies that changed the direction of Hollywood. This week on The Ringer, we celebrate those movies that from humble or overlooked beginnings rose to prominence through the support of their obsessive fan bases. “Cult films come in all varieties-and sometimes with vigorous debate about their status attached-but genuine, possessive devotion is the baseline.” “Making a list of movies that seem underrated or underappreciated is one thing accounting for the ones that generate religious fervor is another,” Adam Nayman writes in this history of the cult movie.