Five doctors go backpacking in the remote Canadian wilderness. All is (relatively) well until their boots vanish. But vulnerable feet are just the beginning—they’re being hunted. Relationships are strained, past traumas resurface, and tough decisions are made as the pals fight to survive. There's incredible chemistry between the group thanks to convincing performances and witty dialogue. Hal Holbrook shines as on-the-verge-of-burnout idealist, Harry. Despite an uneven finale, you’ll be gasping for breath as you watch these men struggle against things they are underprepared to deal with. Had me ready for my own little therapy session. Also, someone quotes Yeats.

A couple’s self-isolation to avoid modern-day contamination leads to the husband’s existential crisis after he exhausts his interest in music. His wife joins him in derelict Detroit from half a world away to reengage their marriage. They find minimal peace until her sister unexpectedly shows up, and very reluctantly drags them back into the world with deadly consequences. Despite their own social distancing the outing turns deadly. Oh, and they’re vampires. John Hurt portrays their friend, completing an excellent cast to Jim Jarmusch’s 2013 very odd, satisfying film where hard, pointy choices are made.

The Berlin Wall serves as a fitting backdrop for this frenzied psychological drama/horror about a fragmented marriage. Here you’ll find doppelgangers, improperly used electric knives, dead dogs (gods?), crises of faith, and a skeleton in the closet to end all skeletons in the closets. Demoniac performances imbue Possession with a mythic energy—Adjani justifiably gets most of the love, but Neill and Bennent more than hold their own. The whole ordeal is relentlessly fraught with anxiety and impending doom from its distressing opening to its apocalyptic final act. Set aside some recovery time.

Sidney Hayers gave us the best adaptation of Fritz Leiber’s Conjure Wife to date with Night of the Eagle. Written by legends Charles Beaumont and Richard Matheson (with contributions by George Baxt), this 1962 horror centers around a sociology professor who discovers his wife is a witch—and that ain’t all, she’s been protecting him against the evil magic of his jealous colleagues. Will his rigid skepticism destroy them both? Stark lighting and dramatic cinematography draw you into the action. There’s lots to dissect, from gender politics to perception vs reality, but I love this as a relationship story.

Jeff Lieberman capitalizes on the anti-drug propaganda of the ’60s with this wacky little gem. In Blue Sunshine, people are losing their minds . . . and their hair. Jerry Zipkin is falsely accused of murder after his best bud succumbs to this alopeciamania. Now he’s gotta clear his name and act as a (very weird) detective to get to the bottom of it all. Could the answer be linked to a strain of LSD passed around campuses ten years ago? Contains one of the best party scenes that involves pretending to be a monster in all of cinema. Watch with friends.