10 Worst Monsters in Movies, Ranked

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Monster movies have long been a fan favorite amongst the scary movie-going crowd. From epic stories like Godzilla, that spawned franchises and countless remakes, to fascinating one-offs like The Babadook, there are sundry creepy creatures of all shapes and sizes. The monsters in said sub-genre of horror films can take the form of relatively tiny creatures (Critters), to massive behemoths, towering over city-scapes (King Kong). Yet, with all good, there must be some bad.

Here is an awful aggregation of the worst monsters to ever disgrace the silver screen. “Worst” in some cases can simply mean the worst-looking (early CGI, we’re looking in your direction), and in other examples, worst can refer to dollar store prosthetics or the ridiculousness of the plot elements of certain monsters’ stories. Either way, here are the worst cinematic chimeras ever conceived, each one more monstrously atrocious than the next.

10 Space Vulture in 'The Giant Claw' (1957)

massive vulture from space in The Giant Claw, 1957 Image via Clover Productions

In a time before advanced special effects, it’s easy to mock the poorly-constructed creatures created for film that were meant to evoke fear. It’s also worth noting, that people scared a lot easier back in the good ole days, as there weren’t a lot of monsters to compare to (save, of course, for Nosferatu, which birthed the first cinematic version of a vampire, which is still terrifying to this very day). So, when one takes a look back at The Giant Claw, it should be viewed with a large grain of salt, obviously. All that being said, man, this thing is just so stupid looking.

Directed by Fred F. Sears, The Giant Claw is centered around a massive vulture that came, for some reason, from outer space. The extraterrestrial buzzard is a claymation/puppet entity that attacks and eats most people in its path. Look, the artists probably tried their best to make this thing look horrifying; they just failed on every level. It’s goofy, tremendously fake, and even seems a bit crossed-eyed in numerous shots.

9 Nightbeast in 'Nightbeast' (1982)

an ugly alien in the movie Nightbeast Image via Troma Entertainment

For a large sub-set of B monster movies, the creatures devised are a parody of other films and are intentionally made to produce laughs instead of gasps of terror. The films that feature such “monsters” should really be classified as comedies and nothing more. One of the first classics to do this was the aptly named Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, and in later years, the mostly hilarious The Gingerdead Man. However, every once in a while, there comes a movie of this nature that is just so corny, or low-budget, or poorly designed (and in some cases, all three), that it needs to be called out. Nightbeast is just such a movie.

The story of Don Dohler’s Nightbeast…really isn’t much of a story at all. An evil alien crash lands in Maryland, and then goes on a killing spree, utilizing its laser gun that vaporizes people, naturally. The construction of the night-beast (by future FX maven John Dods, whose later work would include Poltergeist III and Alien: Resurrection) is laughable, at best. It looks like a mutant, hungover iguana.

8 Zombified Sheep in 'Black Sheep' (2006)

black sheep horror comedy movie, with sheep eating-body Image via IFC First Take

There is a large swath of animal-based horror movies, where the monster is simply a normal mammal, reptile or fish that broke bad. Classic examples of where this was done effectively include Cujo, Crawl, and of course, Jaws. So, the question is raised: when does this formula fail? Why, in none other than the New Zealand film Black Sheep (not to be confused with the hilarious Chris Farley movie of the same name). The titular sheep of this flick are actually more like were-sheep, who have undergone ferociously feral, zombie-like transformations due to a genetic engineering ploy gone wrong.

Now, the concept here isn’t that awful, and yes, this is another attempt at humorous parody. What lands director Jonathan King’s wooly work on this list is the mere fact that it isn’t just going for laughs; it’s actually trying to scare the audience. This is a thoroughly unsuccessful effort, given the fact that the sheep mostly come off as fluffy and fairly cute throughout the whole endeavor.

7 Octaman in 'Octaman' (1971)

An man-octopus-type monster is surrounded by fire in Octaman. Image via Heritage Enterprises Inc.

One of the main factors that make Octaman so truly abysmal is simply the concept behind the film: a radiated octopus mutates and develops the ability to walk on land — it then fully anthropomorphizes for some reason and wants to kill everyone in sight. Director Harry Essex’s film is not a stab at humor, it’s a full-fledged effort to scare. The issue is that octopuses are not scary. Like, at all. In fact, many people find them adorable…or at least tasty.

The Octaman costume was created by future special FX whiz, Oscar-winning Rick Baker, which is especially baffling. Perhaps due to budget constraints or Baker’s inexperience at the time, the outfit that the actor has to wear looks like a cross between a puppy's chew toy and an old mattress.

6 The Snowman in 'Jack Frost' (1997)

Jack Frost attacks a victim in 'Jack Frost'. Image via A-Pix Entertainment

Jack Frost, the snarky snowman of the snowy debacle Jack Frost, almost didn’t make this list because he's kind of funny. Still, an anthropomorphized snowman that comes off looking more like a cushy white teddy bear than anything actually threatening needs to be addressed.

The character Jack Frost was created after a not-so-nice guy became “genetically fused” with snow…y’know…frozen water. He looks like a mascot for a deranged Canadian curling team and pops off some of the worst word-play known to man (“I’m the wizard of blizzard!”). While some viewers enjoyed director Michael Cooney’s film and found Jack Frost to be amusing, the ultra-cheesy dialogue combined with the “frozen plush doll” gone wrong costume is just too awful to endure.

5 Mansquito in 'Mansquito' (2005)

a half man half mosquito creature in the Mansquito movie Image via Syfy Network

Mansquito presents a fairly absurd premise combined with an equally silly depiction of the main character. The story is a tried and true, simple one: a convicted felon is subject to radiative mosquitoes. Ergo, an insect-man hybrid is now on the loose, wreaking havoc and flitting around, in director Tibor Takács not-so buzz-worthy film.

The costume of the mansquito is actually not that horrible. Not to rag too much on woeful, terribly executed CGI, but it's every CGI scene in this movie that totally ruins the rest of the film. The mansquito costume is rather clunky, but hey, as a half man-half bug crossbreed, it gets the job done. It’s just the times when the mansquito needs to morph or “fly” that the CGI is broken out, and it’s in such a stark contrast to the costumed figure, that all one can think about is an early 90s screensaver gone awry.

4 Sharktopus in 'Sharktopus' (2010)

Sharktopus climbing gate and heading down sidewalk Image via Syfy Network

The sharktopus in Sharktopus is a hot-mess-opus. Yes, this film debuted on the Syfy network, which for years had already been synonymous with cheesy CGI chimeras, poorly-conceived storylines, and amusingly campy dialogue. However, the actual sharktopus is so horribly designed that it pushes the boundaries of what’s acceptable to show to an audience. The plot of Sharktopus also makes the plots of the Sharknado franchise look like the collected works of William Shakespeare. The creature was a genetically spliced amalgamation of a shark…and an octopus — designed by the military, of course. Somehow, though, it escaped, and just wants to devour and destroy humanity.

The concept of Declan O’Brien's Sharktopus isn’t really all that horrendous in theory; the utter clumsiness of the CGI here though, is what makes this thing so unforgettably appalling. It actually looks like what someone would digitally sketch up if they wanted to pitch the idea for a movie…not the actual movie.

3 The Blob in 'The Blob' (1958)

An old man holds up a stick with the blob on it in 'The Blob' Image via Paramount Pictures

The premise behind director Irvin S. Yeaworth Jr.’s The Blob is really a great one: some gelatinous goo comes from outer space, dines on some human flesh, loves the taste, and then grows larger with each delicious serving. It's a classic. Hence, the 1988 Chuck Russell remake was a fun and truly frightening film, if for no other reason than the blob was veiny, revolting, and looked like a living thing. The reason the original makes this list is that the first incarnation of the blob was essentially a large dollop of strawberry jelly.

The original blob moved so slowly (most likely because it really was just some leftover preserve) that it seemed near impossible not to outrun it. It’s just a gooey glob of red donut spillage. Even future superstar Steve McQueen’s casting couldn’t detract from the fact that the blob itself wasn’t interesting at all, and its appearance onscreen was amorphous and flat.

2 The Goblins in 'Troll 2' (1990)

dumb looking Goblins assemble in the forest in Troll 2. Image via Epic Productions

Attempting to capitalize on the success of a cult favorite, Troll (hey, Julia Louis-Dreyfus was in it), the distributors of this debacle renamed it from Goblins to Troll 2. The new nomenclature though could not save it, as this Claudio Fragasso-directed fiasco fails on every level. However, none of the cinematic atrocities in this excrement show were as bad as the goblins themselves.

The goblins in this work of cinematic refuse not only aren’t scary in the slightest bit, they resemble clunky, out-of-work mall elves with heads made out of paper mache. Forget the fact that they are vegetarians and need to turn humans into vegetation before they can consume them (if there’s some sort of environmental lesson here, we’re not getting it), the actual goblins are just so aesthetically dumb and amateurish that it’s impossible to be frightened of them in the least or take them seriously in any context.

1 The Ape in 'A*P*E' (1976)

man in cheesy ape suit in a*p*e monster movie Image via Worldwide Entertainment Group

When a film has widespread success, and spawns a multitude of sequels and reboots, there will inevitably be imitators of the original. This is to be expected. Often far, far inferior to the originals (the giant Gamera lizard was thought to be a pretty direct rip-off of Godzilla), some of these ersatz versions can have a redeemable quality here and there. And then…there is A*P*E.

Director Paul Leder’s A*P*E is obviously a knock-off of King Kong — but a collection of actual primates could’ve made a better film and physical monster than this piece of A*P*E. This movie takes the “Guy in a Guerrilla Suit” trope and tries to pass it off as an actual, irony-free feature-length film. It is awful throughout its 87-minute runtime, but no moment jumps the shark more than when the ape…fights a shark (equally, horrendously constructed). All in all, the rubbery ape outfit looks like a Spirit Halloween leftover, and when the ape flips the bird, we collectively want to do the same thing, right back at the screen.

Collider Exclusive · Oscar Best Picture Quiz Which Oscar Best Picture
Is Your Perfect Movie?
Parasite · Everything Everywhere · Oppenheimer · Birdman · No Country

Five Oscar Best Picture winners. Five completely different visions of what cinema can be — and what it can do to you. One of them is the film that was made for the way your mind works. Ten questions will figure out which one.

🪜Parasite

🌀Everything Everywhere

☢️Oppenheimer

🐦Birdman

🪙No Country for Old Men

FIND YOUR FILM →

01

What kind of film experience do you actually want? The best movies don't just entertain — they leave something behind.

ASomething that pulls the rug out — that makes me think I'm watching one kind of film and then reveals I'm watching another entirely. BSomething overwhelming — funny, sad, absurd, and genuinely moving, all at once. CSomething grand and weighty — a film that makes me feel the full scale of what I'm watching. DSomething formally daring — a film that pushes what cinema can even do. ESomething lean and relentless — pure tension with no wasted frame.

NEXT QUESTION →

02

Which idea grabs you most in a film? Great films are driven by a central obsession. What's yours?

AClass, inequality, and what people are willing to do when desperation meets opportunity. BIdentity, family, and the chaos of trying to hold your life together when everything is falling apart. CGenius, moral responsibility, and the catastrophic weight of a decision you can never take back. DEgo, legacy, and the terror of becoming irrelevant while you're still alive to watch it happen. EEvil, chance, and whether moral order actually exists or if we just tell ourselves it does.

NEXT QUESTION →

03

How do you like your story told? Form is content. The way a story is shaped changes what it means.

AGenre-twisting — I want it to start in one lane and migrate into something completely different. BMaximalist and genre-blending — comedy, action, drama, sci-fi, all in one ride. CEpic and non-linear — cutting between timelines, building a mosaic of cause and consequence. DA single unbroken flow — I want to feel like I'm living it in real time, no cuts to safety. ESpare and precise — every scene doing exactly what it needs to do and nothing more.

NEXT QUESTION →

04

What makes a truly great antagonist? The opposition defines the protagonist. What kind of opposition fascinates you?

AA system — invisible, structural, and almost impossible to fight because it has no single face. BThe self — the ways we sabotage, abandon, and fail the people we love most. CHistory — the unstoppable momentum of events that no single person can stop or redirect. DThe industry — the machinery of culture that chews up talent and spits out irrelevance. EPure, implacable evil — a force so certain of itself it becomes almost philosophical.

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05

What do you want from a film's ending? The final note is the one that lingers. What do you want it to sound like?

AShock and inevitability — a conclusion that recontextualises everything that came before it. BEarned emotion — I want to cry, laugh, and feel genuinely hopeful, even if the world is a mess. CDevastation and grandeur — an ending that makes me sit in silence for a few minutes after. DAmbiguity — something that leaves enough open that I'm still thinking about it days later. EBleakness — an honest refusal to pretend the world is tidier than it actually is.

NEXT QUESTION →

06

Which setting pulls you in most? Where a film takes place shapes everything — mood, stakes, what's even possible.

AA gleaming modern city with a hidden underside — beauty masking rot, wealth masking desperation. BA collapsing suburban life that opens onto something infinite — the multiverse of a single ordinary person. CThe corridors of power and science at a world-historical turning point — where decisions echo for decades. DThe grimy, alive chaos of New York and Hollywood — fame as both destination and trap. EVast, indifferent landscape — desert and highway where violence arrives without warning or reason.

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07

What cinematic craft impresses you most? Every great film has a signature — a technical or artistic element that makes it unmistakable.

AProduction design and mise-en-scène — every frame composed to carry meaning beneath the surface. BEditing and tonal control — the ability to move between registers without losing the audience. CScore and sound design — music that becomes inseparable from the dread and awe of what you're watching. DCinematography as performance — the camera not recording events but participating in them. ESilence and restraint — what's left unsaid and unshown doing more work than any dialogue could.

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08

What kind of main character do you root for? The protagonist is the lens. Who you choose to follow says something about you.

ASomeone smart and resourceful who makes increasingly dangerous decisions under pressure. BSomeone overwhelmed and ordinary who turns out to be capable of something extraordinary. CA brilliant, tortured figure whose gifts and flaws are inseparable from each other. DA self-destructive artist whose ego is both their superpower and their undoing. EA quiet, principled person trying to make sense of a world that has stopped making sense.

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09

How do you feel about a film that takes its time? Pace is a choice. Some films sprint; others let tension accumulate slowly, deliberately.

AI love a slow build when I know the payoff is going to be seismic — patience for a devastating reveal. BGive me relentless momentum — I want to feel breathless and emotionally spent by the end. CEpic runtime doesn't scare me — if the material demands three hours, give me three hours. DI want it to feel propulsive even when nothing is technically happening — restless energy throughout. EDeliberate and unhurried — I want dread to accumulate in the spaces between the action.

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10

What do you want to feel walking out of the cinema? The best films leave a mark. What kind of mark do you want?

AUnsettled — like I've just seen something I can't fully explain but can't stop thinking about. BMoved and energised — like the film reminded me what actually matters and gave me something to hold onto. CHumbled — like I've been in the presence of something genuinely important and overwhelming. DExhilarated — like I've just seen cinema doing something it's never quite done before. EHaunted — like a cold, quiet dread that stays with me for days.

REVEAL MY FILM →

The Academy Has Decided Your Perfect Film Is…

Your answers have pointed to one Oscar Best Picture winner above all others. This is the film that was made for the way your mind works.

Parasite

You are drawn to films that operate on multiple levels simultaneously — that begin in one genre and quietly, brilliantly migrate into another. Bong Joon-ho's Parasite is a film about class, desire, and the architecture of inequality that manages to be darkly funny, deeply suspenseful, and genuinely shocking across a single extraordinary running time. Your instinct is for cinema that hides its true intentions until the moment it's ready to reveal them. Parasite is exactly that — a film that rewards close attention and punishes assumptions, right up to its devastating final image.

Everything Everywhere All at Once

You want it all — and this film gives you all of it. The Daniels' Everything Everywhere All at Once is one of the most maximalist films ever made: action comedy, multiverse sci-fi, family drama, existential crisis, and a genuinely earned emotional core that sneaks up on you amid the chaos. You are someone who responds to ambition, who doesn't want cinema to choose between being entertaining and being meaningful. This film refuses that choice entirely. It is overwhelming by design, and its overwhelming nature is precisely the point — because the feeling of being crushed by infinite possibility is exactly what it's about.

Oppenheimer

You are drawn to cinema on a grand scale — films that understand history not as a backdrop but as a force, and that place their characters inside that force and watch what happens. Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer is a film about the terrifying gap between what we can do and what we should do, told with the full weight of one of the most consequential moments in human history behind it. You want your films to feel important without feeling self-important — to earn their ambition through sheer craft and the gravity of their subject. Oppenheimer does exactly that. It is enormous, complicated, and refuses easy comfort.

Birdman

You are drawn to films that foreground their own construction — that make the how of the filmmaking part of the what it's about. Alejandro González Iñárritu's Birdman, shot to appear as a single continuous take, is cinema examining itself through the cracked mirror of a fading actor's ego. You respond to formal daring, to the feeling that a film is doing something that probably shouldn't be possible. Michael Keaton's performance and Emmanuel Lubezki's restless camera create something genuinely unlike anything else — a film that is simultaneously about creativity, relevance, self-destruction, and the impossibility of ever truly knowing if your work means anything at all.

No Country for Old Men

You are drawn to cinema that trusts silence, that refuses to explain itself, and that treats dread as a form of meaning. The Coen Brothers' No Country for Old Men is a film about the arrival of a new kind of evil — implacable, arbitrary, and utterly indifferent to the moral frameworks we use to make sense of the world. It is one of the most formally controlled films ever made, and its controlled restraint is what makes it so terrifying. You want your films to haunt you, not comfort you. You are not interested in resolution if resolution would be dishonest. No Country for Old Men is honest in a way that most cinema never dares to be.

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ape-1976-film-poster.jpg
Ape

Release Date July 23, 1976

Runtime 86 Minutes

Director Paul Leder

Writers Paul Leder, Reuben Leder

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