1962's Carnival of Souls

Directed by: Herk Harvey

Starring: Candace Hilligoss, Herk Harvey

Rating: ★★★★☆ (4 out of 5 stars)

Historical Context and Cult Status

At first glance, Carnival of Souls seems like just another black-and-white curiosity from a bygone era. But behind its eerie, dreamlike tone lies a film that helped shape the very bones of American psychological horror. Directed by Herk Harvey—an industrial filmmaker best known for educational shorts—and shot on a micro-budget of about $33,000, Carnival of Souls was both a creative gamble and a strange anomaly in early ’60s cinema.

The story follows Mary Henry, a young church organist who emerges—seemingly unscathed—from a deadly car accident. She takes a job in a new town, hoping to move on, but finds herself haunted by visions of a pale-faced man and increasingly disconnected from reality. As her isolation grows, she is drawn to an abandoned carnival pavilion near a salt lake, where her fate is slowly, eerily sealed.

The production was resourceful to the point of brilliance. Shot in real locations across Kansas and Utah—including the haunting, skeletal remains of the Saltair Pavilion—the film capitalized on natural desolation and decay. The cinematography, by Maurice Prather, is one of the film’s greatest assets: it sways between realism and surrealism with stark compositions, looming shadows, and wide-angle shots that dwarf Mary in her environment. Every frame feels like a fever dream.

Equally integral is Gene Moore’s organ-based score, which eschews traditional orchestration for something far more jarring. The music feels invasive, even malevolent, echoing Mary’s internal unraveling. It’s hard to overstate how ahead of its time this was—especially considering it was made by people with almost no experience in theatrical filmmaking.

The film was a flop upon release. Its distributor barely promoted it, and the film was relegated to drive-ins and late-night double bills. But in the ’70s and ’80s, television airings and eventual home video releases gave Carnival of Souls a second life. Film scholars, horror buffs, and directors like George Romero and David Lynch have cited it as a major influence. It is now recognized as a foundational text in American horror—an atmospheric masterclass that predated the likes of Night of the Living Dead and The Sixth Sense by years.

Modern Horror Fan’s Perspective

For contemporary horror fans used to frenetic editing, elaborate gore, or ear-shattering stinger scares, Carnival of Souls might feel like it’s running on a different wavelength. And it is—but that’s part of its eerie charm.

This is horror of the mind, the spirit, and the in-between. The film trades narrative clarity for emotional disorientation. Mary isn’t chased by monsters or haunted by vengeful ghosts; instead, she slips slowly into a kind of existential purgatory. The horror arises not from what happens to her, but from what stops happening. People don’t see her. Time skips without reason. Her reflection disappears from mirrors. And all the while, the ghostly figure of “the Man”—played by Harvey himself—follows her with silent intent.

The slow pacing may be off-putting to some, but it serves the narrative well. There’s a constant sense of detachment—Mary is never quite part of the world around her. Her strange isolation, both emotional and literal, mirrors modern themes of alienation and identity loss. This makes Carnival of Souls feel more relevant than ever in a world that often seems disjointed and numbing.

The film’s final twist—that Mary died in the car crash all along and the events of the film are some liminal death-dream—is less surprising to modern audiences, who’ve seen similar reveals countless times. But in 1962, this was a gut-punch. Even today, knowing the twist doesn't ruin the experience; instead, it adds depth to rewatching. It makes Mary’s journey more poignant and tragic.

While not conventionally scary by today’s standards, the film’s best moments linger like a bad dream. The spectral dance in the decaying pavilion, the long silent stretches where reality bends and breaks, the cold finality of that submerged car—all of it builds to a uniquely haunting tone that sticks with you.

Final Thoughts

Carnival of Souls is a film that feels like it was made by ghosts, for ghosts. It’s not about jump scares or monsters, but about disconnection, death, and the thin veil between what’s real and what isn’t. For horror fans who love atmosphere over adrenaline, and who don’t mind a bit of ambiguity, this is essential viewing.

It’s no wonder this quiet oddity from 1962 has become a cornerstone of cult horror. It’s not just a movie—it’s a mood. And once you enter its ghostly world, part of you never really leaves.