8 Years Later, the Greatest Jump Scare in Horror TV History Still Hasn't Been Topped

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Published May 28, 2026, 2:58 PM EDT

Kelcie Mattson is a Senior Features author at Collider. Based in the Midwest, she also contributes Lists, reviews, and television recaps. A lifelong fan of niche sci-fi, epic fantasy, Gothic horror, elaborate action, and witty detective fiction, becoming a pop culture devotee was inevitable once the Disney Renaissance, Turner Classic Movies, BBC period dramas, and her local library piqued her imagination.

Rarely seen without a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, Kelcie explores media history (especially older, foreign, and independent films) as much as possible. In her spare time, she enjoys RPG video games, amateur photography, nerding out over music, and attending fan conventions with her Trekkie family.

Jump scares are a divisive technique within the horror community. Love them or hate them, the tactic has become as prolific as it is predictable. A dangerous scene, usually involving a character wandering somewhere they shouldn't, stretches until an abrupt noise, a shrieking music cue, or a grotesque figure's sudden appearance shatters the suspense. Although effective in the physical sense (i.e, producing a flinch), overuse has reduced most jump scares down to gimmicks.

Instead of being one of many tools in the genre toolbox, and a crucial one that can't succeed without the proper visual language, groundwork, pacing, and emotional hooks, movies slap quick-and-dirty jump scares onto their weak material like they're a one-size-fits-all bandage. These forgettable adrenaline rushes can't compare to shocks with lasting impact — when visual language, pacing, and emotional hooks ensure the anticipatory tension crescendos into a moment that's distressing enough to sear itself onto viewers' eyeballs.

Writer and director Mike Flanagan’s The Haunting of Hill House is one of those successful frights. The 2018 Netflix miniseries remains a masterpiece because of its creator's tightly woven web of complex character work, unsettling set pieces, and slow-burn revelations; remove one element, and the canvas falls apart. Seven years after its premiere, Episode 8’s car jump scare has gone down in horror history as an all-timer. In a sensational example of form, function, and cinematic craft, Flanagan constructs this infamous fright from the ground up and justifies its relevance.

'The Haunting of Hill House's Best Scares Are Rooted in Emotion

Plot-wise, The Haunting of Hill House barely resembles Shirley Jackson's 1959 Gothic book of the same name. Nevertheless, Flanagan's re-imagination captures the tale's somber and contemplative spirit. In true Flanagan tradition, this adaptation transforms Jackson's psychological haunted house thriller into an ensemble drama about tragedy and generational trauma, with the ill-fated Crain family at its epicenter. No matter how far they run from their abandoned summer home, the specters of their past pursue them. Invisible ghosts knock and vindictive creatures prowl just out of sight, while trauma devours the Crains from the inside out. Their collective grief lingers, manifesting through PTSD, depression, substance addiction, self-destructive spirals, and survival tactics like turning oneself into an isolated human island. Such is the Crains' inescapable plight.

Collider Exclusive · Horror Survival Quiz Which Horror Villain Do You Have the Best Chance of Surviving? Jason Voorhees · Michael Myers · Freddy Krueger · Pennywise · Chucky

Five killers. Five completely different ways to die — if you're not smart enough, fast enough, or self-aware enough to avoid it. Only one of them is the villain your particular set of instincts gives you a fighting chance against. Eight questions will figure out which one.

🏕️Jason

🔪Michael

💤Freddy

🎈Pennywise

🪆Chucky

TEST YOUR SURVIVAL →

Something feels wrong. You can't explain it — you just know. What do you do? First instincts are the difference between the survivor and the first act casualty.

ALeave immediately. I don't need to understand a threat to respect it. BStay quiet and observe. If I can see it, I can understand it. If I can understand it, I can avoid it. CStay awake. Whatever this is, I am not going to sleep until I feel safe again. DConfront it directly. Fear grows in the dark — I'd rather know what I'm dealing with. ECheck everything, trust nothing. The threat might be closer than I think — and smaller.

NEXT QUESTION →

Where are you most likely to find yourself when things go wrong? Setting is everything in horror. Where you are determines which rules apply.

ASomewhere remote — a cabin, a campsite, off the grid and away from people. BA quiet suburban neighbourhood where nothing ever happens. Except tonight. CIn my own head — the most dangerous place of all, depending on what's already in there. DWherever children are — because something about this place attracts the worst things. ESomewhere ordinary — a house, a toy store, a place where the last thing you'd expect is a threat.

NEXT QUESTION →

What is your most reliable survival asset? Every survivor has a quality the villain didn't account for. What's yours?

APhysical fitness — I can run, I can swim, I can outlast something that relies on brute persistence. BSpatial awareness — I always know the exits, the hiding spots, the fastest route out. CPsychological resilience — I've faced my worst fears before. They don't have the same power over me. DEmotional steadiness — I don't panic. Panic is what gets you caught. EScepticism — I don't underestimate threats because of how they look. Size is irrelevant.

NEXT QUESTION →

What kind of fear is hardest for you to fight through? Knowing your weakness is the first step to not dying because of it.

AThe unstoppable — something that will not stop, cannot be reasoned with, and is always getting closer. BThe invisible — a threat I can feel but can't locate, watching from somewhere I can't see. CThe psychological — something that uses my own mind and memories against me. DThe unknowable — something ancient, shapeless, that feeds on the fear itself. EThe mundane — a threat so ordinary-looking that no one will believe me until it's too late.

NEXT QUESTION →

You're with a group when things start going wrong. What's your role? Horror movies are brutally clear about who survives group situations and who doesn't.

AThe one who says "we need to leave" first — and means it, even when no one listens. BThe one who stays quiet, watches the others, and figures out the pattern before anyone else does. CThe one who holds the group together when panic sets in — because someone has to. DThe one who asks the questions nobody wants to ask — because ignoring them gets people killed. EThe one who takes the threat seriously when everyone else is laughing it off.

NEXT QUESTION →

What's the horror movie mistake you're most likely to make? Honest self-assessment is a survival skill. Denial is not.

AGoing back for someone — I know I shouldn't, but I can't leave them behind. BAssuming I'm safe once I've found a hiding spot. That's when it finds me. CFalling asleep when I absolutely cannot afford to. Exhaustion is its own enemy. DLetting my curiosity override my instincts — I always need to understand what I'm dealing with. EDismissing the threat because of how it looks. That's exactly what it wants.

NEXT QUESTION →

What's your best weapon against something that can't be stopped by conventional means? Every horror villain has a weakness. The survivors are always the ones who find it.

AThe environment itself — I use the terrain, the water, the geography against it. BPatience — I wait, I watch, and I strike at the one moment it doesn't expect. CLucidity — if I can stay in control of my own mind, it loses its primary weapon. DCourage — facing it directly, refusing to run, taking away the fear it feeds on. EImprovisation — I use whatever's at hand, however unconventional. Creativity over brute force.

NEXT QUESTION →

It's the final scene. You're the last one standing. How did you make it? The final survivor always has a reason. What's yours?

AI kept moving. I never stopped, never hid for too long, never let it corner me. BI figured out the pattern before anyone else did — and I used it against the thing following it. CI stayed awake, stayed lucid, and refused to give it the one thing it needed most. DI stopped being afraid of it. And the moment I did, everything changed. EI took it seriously from the start — and I never once made the mistake of underestimating it.

REVEAL MY VILLAIN →

Your Survival Odds Have Been Calculated Your Best Chance Is Against…

Your instincts, your strengths, and your particular way of thinking under pressure point to one villain you actually have a fighting chance against. Everyone else — good luck.

Jason Voorhees

Jason is relentless, but he is also predictable — and that is the gap you would exploit.

He moves in straight lines toward his target. He doesn't strategise, doesn't adapt, doesn't outsmart. He simply pursues.
Your ability to keep moving, use the environment, and resist the panic that freezes most victims gives you a genuine edge.
The Crystal Lake survivors were always the ones who stopped running in circles and started thinking about terrain, water, and distance.
You think like that. Which means Jason, for all his indestructibility, would face someone who simply refused to be where he expected.

Michael Myers

Michael watches before he moves. He is patient, methodical, and almost impossible to detect — until it's too late for anyone who isn't paying close enough attention.

But you are paying attention. You notice the shape in the window, the car parked slightly wrong, the silence where there should be sound.
Michael's power lies in the invisibility of ordinary suburbia — the fact that nothing ever looks wrong until it already is.
Your spatial awareness and instinct to map every room, every exit, and every shadow before you need them is precisely the quality Laurie Strode had.
You are not a victim waiting to happen. You are someone who already suspects something is wrong — and acts on it.

Freddy Krueger

Freddy wins by getting inside your head — using your own fears, your own memories, your own subconscious as weapons against you. That strategy requires a target who can be destabilised.

You are harder to destabilise than most. You've faced uncomfortable truths about yourself and you haven't looked away.
The survivors on Elm Street were always the ones who understood what was happening and chose to face it rather than flee from it.
Freddy's greatest weakness is that his power evaporates in the presence of someone who refuses to give him the fear he feeds on.
Your psychological resilience — the ability to stay grounded when reality itself becomes unreliable — is exactly the quality that keeps you alive here.

Pennywise

Pennywise is ancient, shapeshifting, and feeds on terror — but it has one critical vulnerability: it cannot function against someone who genuinely stops being afraid of it.

The Losers Club didn't survive because they were braver than everyone else. They survived because they faced their fears together, and faced them honestly.
You ask the questions others avoid. You look directly at what frightens you rather than turning away.
That directness — the refusal to let fear fester in the dark — is Pennywise's worst nightmare.
It chose the wrong target when it chose you. You are exactly the kind of person whose fear tastes like nothing at all.

Chucky

Chucky's greatest advantage is that nobody takes him seriously until it's already too late. He exploits the gap between how something looks and what it actually is.

You don't have that gap. You take threats seriously regardless of how they present — and you never make the mistake of underestimating something because of its size or appearance.
Chucky relies on surprise, on the delay between recognition and response. You close that delay faster than almost anyone.
Your instinct to treat every unfamiliar thing with appropriate scepticism — rather than dismissing it because it seems absurd — is the exact quality that keeps you breathing.
Against Chucky, not laughing is already winning. You are very good at not laughing.

↻ RETAKE THE QUIZ

Deeply unsettling from the jump, the series' best scare doesn't happen until Episode 8, "Witness Marks," as Shirley (Elizabeth Reaser) and Theo (Kate Siegel) follow their younger brother, Luke (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), back to Hill House. Hours earlier, Luke had vanished without a word. Theo and Shirley have nothing to do except worry, wait, and rehash old wounds and recent grudges. Theo tries to calmly explain a misunderstanding involving Shirley's husband (Anthony Ruivivar), but her furious older sibling refuses to listen. Before they begin driving toward their personal hell on earth, the sisters devolve into a verbal brawl vicious enough to draw metaphorical blood.

The Car Jump Scare in Netflix's 'The Haunting of Hill House' Is All About the Characters

By the time Theo and Shirley hit the road, emotions are feverishly high. They're returning to the source of their formative childhood despair and barely suppressing their panic about Luke following in the footsteps of his twin sister, Nell (Victoria Pedretti). The pair's tentative follow-up starts promising; Shirley offers to listen to Theo, who's been plagued by a harrowing "emptiness" after accidentally sensing Hill House's otherworldly evil. Despite their best intentions, the cycle repeats itself.

Rivalry, infantilization, hypocrisy, insecurity, jealousy, loneliness — Shirley and Theo nurse the same respective hurts they always have and hurl the same recycled critiques they've each heard a hundred times before. They argue so ferociously because they love and infuriate each other in equal measure. They weaponize one another's secret scars like only an intimate family can.

As the confrontation escalates, viewers are so engrossed, so distracted by Flanagan’s sleight of hand, they never predict the jump scare. Without warning, Nell's ghost shoves her ghastly visage in between her sisters and screams her lungs out, Shirley skids off the road, and Theo collapses to her knees. If the seven preceding episodes hadn't established The Haunting of Hill House as a slow-burn horror rooted in familial anguish, then millions of viewers wouldn't have been invested enough to tumble off their couches.

The Crains' thorny exchanges ring true because of their estranged affection, their fraying exhaustion, and their haphazard, ugly responses to trauma. These damaged yet fundamentally decent people are learning to live with primal, all-consuming grief. That's a fundamental human experience, and roadmaps don't exist for lost souls seeking relief or reason. If audiences don't see themselves in the Crains' struggles by Episode 8, then The Haunting of Hill House's stakes are non-existent.

As for the supernatural threats, the series's early episodes draw from the psychological horror playbook. Before Nell's abrupt shriek, Hill House's sadistic apparitions have been disturbing flashbacks or lurking predators who, while aggressive, observe from a distance. Even though two people confined in a dark car on an abandoned road breed a claustrophobic mood, Flanagan's lethal combination of meditative themes, disquieting scares, and Theo and Shirley's previous argument lulls audiences into a false sense of security.

The car scene follows an escalating rhythm (amplified by Reaser and Siegel's raw performances charting every emotional beat), and we assume it's building toward another fight. I don't usually talk to my television, but Nell's surprise cameo made me holler like my house was burning down. I had to pause the episode to catch my breath, which had vacated my body and jettisoned itself into Earth's atmosphere.

Mike Flanagan's 'The Haunting of Hill House' Jump Scare Is Perfect From Start to Finish

Nell's disruption even makes sense from a character standpoint. Her distressed spirit interrupts her sisters' needless argument and forces them to reconcile. Nothing short of Nell's drastic intervention could have made Shirley and Theo expose their deepest despair and truly see one another for the first time in years. It's a step toward healing that's perfectly timed to both the characters' arcs and the series 10-episode run; if the surviving Crains step inside the house without accepting the supernatural as fact, then they're doomed. Nell saves her sisters' lives by scaring them witless.

Seven years after its premiere, The Haunting of Hill House has been deemed a modern classic and Flanagan the genre's reigning king. The series' thematic resonance and spooky triumphs are a microcosm of the director at his finest. His meticulous, psychologically-driven approach isn't the only way to achieve a proper jump scare, but the results speak for themselves. This outstanding, "everyone remembers where they were and how they felt when they first watched it" moment is the kind of reaction directors dream about.

The Haunting of Hill House is available to stream in the U.S. on Netflix.

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