Throwback slasher or paranormal films set in the 1980s have been popping up everywhere in the past decade (perhaps due to the massive success of Netflix's Stranger Things), but none of them really look like the '80s. Whether it's the characters' styles or modern filmmaking techniques, little details give them away, and the throwback effects don't quite hit the mark.

That's why I was drawn to The House of the Devil, director Ti West's brilliant exercise in chilling retro realism. It's available to stream with an AMC Plus subscription or for free on Tubi. This indie masterpiece transports me back to a time when horror was all about suspense, atmosphere and a slow-burn buildup to a terrifying climax. It does so while remaining faithful to the horror era it sets out to invoke.

The movie follows Samantha (Jocelin Donahue), a college student desperate for cash who takes a babysitting job in a creepy old mansion. She soon finds out she's dealing with a much different charge than a child when she arrives on site. As she's left alone for the night, she orders a pizza and cues up a flick on TV, while the dread builds incrementally and the audience settles in for something horrific. The House of the Devil is reminiscent of classic films like Halloween and When a Stranger Calls, but ratcheted up tenfold.

From the opening credits, The House of the Devil sets the tone with a ridiculously accurate and detailed retro aesthetic. It doesn't just take place in the 1980s -- it feels like it was made then. The grainy film texture, era-appropriate costumes and hair are absolutely perfect. It's set to a curated soundtrack with tracks including The Fixx's One Thing Leads To Another and The Greg Kihn Band's The Break Up Song. The movie doesn't just feel like it's dressing up in '80s tropes, but like it was birthed from that time.

The movie was shot on 16mm film, creating its specialized throwback look, and it lifts cinematography straight from '80s filmmakers along with a slew of other techniques to evoke classics of the era. Everything, down to the credits, is period accurate, and I appreciated all the attention given to making sure it all matches, down to the cups at the pizza restaurant seen early in the movie.

Sam realizes something is amiss when she stumbles upon proof that the family that hired her for the babysitting job isn't the same one in the photos. Realizing she might have been deceived, she attempts a 911 call, but she's already eaten a piece of tainted pizza. She passes out just as she gets a glimpse of what exactly it is she's been hired to "babysit."

The movie's path is fraught with grisly moments (just ask Sam's best friend Megan, played by Barbie director Greta Gerwig), with believably gruesome practical effects that unsettle and chill to the bone. The hideous "Mother," who Sam discovers is connected to her original job, is an example of '80s filmmaking that would have made audiences sick to their stomachs.

Without spoiling the climax, The House of the Devil maintains a gnawing, upsetting sense of dread throughout its runtime. It isn't afraid to use themes of isolation, the unknown and betrayal to keep you on the edge of your seat, which I appreciated on my first viewing and only grew to love more with each rewatch. As horrific as the story is, I firmly believe that this movie wouldn't have been possible without its commitment to staying true to the era that inspired it. 

If you're looking for a horror movie that doesn't rely on cheap jump scares or the overwrought parable "sex is bad" with a group of teens being picked off one by one, The House of the Devil is one of the best flicks you could put on your Halloween viewing list. It brings the golden years of '80s horror to life in believable, decadent ways that'll have you squirming in your seat. I'm still unpacking the gagworthy climax, and I bet you will be too.