Unlocking Del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities: A Ranking of Each Episode

There’s something charmingly old-fashioned about Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities. Most streaming horror (and this is a Netflix vehicle) favors jump scares and all-too familiar tropes, but del Toro’s anthology feels like stepping into the dusty study of an eccentric collector who’s spent decades hoarding precious nightmares. Having recently revisited all eight episodes, The Longbox of Darkness is now compelled to untangle their frightening delights and arrange them in some semblance of order. And we hope you find this ranking entertaining, dark travelers.

Rewatching this anthology has made me appreciate how it doesn’t just try to scare – it attempts to unsettle, disturb, and occasionally throw an emotional gut punch. Most of all, the collection represents a horror’s versatility, with each episode functioning as its own self-contained universe while remaining linked through del Toro’s distinctly gothic sensibilities.

The Methodology Behind the Madness

Before plunging into the ranking, I should explain my approach. These episodes aren’t being judged merely on their fright factor (though that certainly matters), but rather on their:

• Narrative cohesion and emotional impact
• Visual craftsmanship and atmosphere
• Thematic depth and originality
• Performance quality
• How effectively they capture del Toro’s distinctive blend of beauty and terror

So, with that framework established, let’s unlock the cabinet, one door at a time…

8. Dreams in the Witch House

Every anthology needs its noble misfire, and “Dreams in the Witch House” unfortunately fills that role. Despite its impressive pedigree – directed by Catherine Hardwicke and starring Rupert Grint – this Lovecraft adaptation never quite finds its footing. Grint’s Walter Gilman, searching for his dead twin sister in supernatural realms, provides an emotional anchor, but the episode struggles with pacing issues and an unfocused narrative that dilutes its impact.

The witch’s familiar – a nightmarish rat with a human face named Jenkins Brown – delivers genuine unease, but the episode ultimately collapses under the weight of competing elements: grief narrative, witch hunt history, interdimensional travel, and Lovecraftian cosmic horror. It’s not without merits (the production design is stellar), but it represents a case where ambition exceeds execution.

7. The Viewing

Had “Mandy”-director Panos Cosmatos’s psychedelic nightmare been judged solely on atmosphere and visual panache, it might have ranked much higher. “The Viewing” drips with 70s-infused style – wood-paneled walls, analog equipment, and sumptuous lighting create a sensory cocoon that’s impossible to resist. Peter Weller’s enigmatic billionaire hosting a drug-fueled gathering of brilliant minds feels like the perfect setup.

The episode excels in building tension through conversation and ambiance before exploding into gloriously grotesque body horror. Where it stumbles is narrative satisfaction – the cosmic horror payoff feels somewhat disconnected from the character dynamics so carefully established. It’s a mesmerizing experience that ultimately prioritizes style over substance, though what style it is! The melting faces and exploding heads deliver the goods for gore enthusiasts.

6. The Outside

Kate Micucci’s transformative performance as Stacey, an awkward bank teller seduced by the promises of a mysterious beauty product, elevates this bizarre allegory about conformity and consumerism. Director Ana Lily Amirpour (known best for “A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night“) crafts a uniquely feminine horror narrative that still feels universal in its exploration of societal pressure and self-loathing.

The body horror elements – Stacey’s skin literally melting and reforming as she slathers herself with “Alo Glo” lotion – create visceral discomfort while serving the thematic elements. The surreal intrusions of the lotion’s spokesman (played with unsettling charm by Dan Stevens) blur the line between hallucination and reality. If the episode falters anywhere, it’s in its somewhat heavy-handed messaging, but the sheer audacity of its execution earns it respect.

5. Pickman’s Model

Crispin Glover was born to star in Lovecraft adaptations. His performance as the unnerving artist Richard Pickman, whose horrific paintings contain more truth than fiction, embodies the perfect blend of charisma and menace. Director Keith Thomas crafts a deliberate, atmospheric descent into madness that honors Lovecraft’s themes while expanding the emotional stakes.

Ben Barnes brings surprising depth to Will Thurber, the art student who becomes obsessed with Pickman’s disturbing work. The episode’s greatest strength lies in its examination of art as contagion – how images can infect the mind and alter perception. The creature designs are quintessential del Toro, grotesque yet oddly beautiful. While the pacing occasionally drags, the finale delivers genuine horror with lingering psychological impact.

4. Graveyard Rats

Pure, unadulterated nightmare fuel. Vincenzo Natali’s claustrophobic creature feature follows grave robber Masson (David Hewlett in a wonderfully despicable performance) as he descends into increasingly narrow tunnels beneath a cemetery, pursued by unnaturally intelligent rats. The episode brilliantly exploits primal fears – confined spaces, darkness, and vermin – while maintaining a wickedly dark sense of humor.

The practical effects work shines, particularly the massive “Rat Queen” that serves as the ultimate horror. What elevates this beyond simple monster fare is the perfect execution of its EC Comics-style morality tale structure – Masson’s greed leads directly to his gruesome fate. It’s straightforward horror done exceptionally well, with visceral tension that never relents once Masson enters those tunnels.

3. Lot 36

Del Toro’s own story provides the foundation for this tightly constructed tale of supernatural comeuppance. Tim Blake Nelson’s embittered veteran Nick Appleton represents the perfect anti-hero. He’s utterly unlikable yet somehow compelling as he navigates America’s economic underbelly by purchasing abandoned storage units. When unit 36 reveals occult secrets and a trapped demon, the stage is set for an elegant morality play.

Director Guillermo Navarro (del Toro’s longtime cinematographer) crafts a visually striking narrative that balances social commentary with supernatural dread. The storage facility becomes a metaphor for America itself – compartmentalized spaces hiding dark secrets. When the demon finally appears, it delivers both visceral horror and poetic justice, making this one of the anthology’s most thematically satisfying entries.

2. The Murmuring

Jennifer Kent’s meditation on grief masquerading as a ghost story showcases the anthology’s remarkable range. Essie Davis and Andrew Lincoln deliver devastatingly nuanced performances as ornithologists Nancy and Edgar, a couple processing the loss of their daughter while studying bird migrations at a remote house. The haunting that follows isn’t merely supernatural – it’s an externalization of repressed trauma and marital discord.

What distinguishes “The Murmuring” is its emotional maturity and restraint. Kent uses horror elements sparingly, focusing instead on the psychological landscape of grief. When the supernatural elements do manifest, they serve character development rather than cheap scares. The cinematography’s elegant interplay between nature and domestic spaces creates visual poetry that lingers long after viewing. This is horror at its most emotionally resonant.

1. The Autopsy

Sometimes perfect execution trumps conceptual ambition. David Prior’s excellent direction of Michael Shea’s short story (one of my favorites of all time) creates an unparalleled exercise in sustained tension and cosmic dread. F. Murray Abraham’s performance as Dr. Carl Winters, a terminally ill pathologist confronting an extraterrestrial parasite, ranks among the finest in modern horror – restrained, intelligent, and ultimately heroic.

The episode has incredible methodical pacing. The autopsy sequences unfold with clinical precision, making the horrific revelations all the more impactful. Prior’s camera work enhances the claustrophobic setting while maintaining clarity during the most gruesome moments. The final confrontation between doctor and alien entity delivers philosophical depth rarely seen in the genre – a meditation on consciousness, mortality, and human dignity in the face of cosmic indifference.

“The Autopsy” succeeds on every level – performances, direction, practical effects, thematic resonance – creating a perfect symbiosis between cosmic horror and procedural thriller. It represents anthology storytelling at its pinnacle.

My Final Thoughts on Del Toro’s Collection

Cabinet of Curiosities is a strange egg because it functions as both showcase and laboratory. Each director brings their unique vision while willingly operating within del Toro’s aesthetic framework – a compliment to his curatorial wisdom. The anthology celebrates horror’s diversity while maintaining a coherent artistic identity.

The production design deserves special mention – each episode creates a fully realized world with an insane amount detail. The practical effects work throughout (particularly the monsters) and reflects del Toro’s commitment to tangible horror over digital shortcuts. Interestingly, the anthology’s strengths often align with del Toro’s own filmmaking priorities: the interplay of beauty and horror, outsider perspectives, and moral frameworks within supernatural contexts.

For horror fans like you and me, Cabinet of Curiosities is a refreshing alternative to mainstream offerings – horror that isn’t afraid to be weird, philosophical, or emotionally vulnerable. Like the antique cabinets that inspired its name, del Toro’s anthology invites us to peruse each compartment with care and trepidation, knowing that beauty and horror often reside in the same specimen.

What’s your favorite episode from the collection, fear fanatics? Does a particular story disturb or titillate your taste buds of terror more than others? The cabinet remains open, beckoning you to return for a visit… and to lose yourself in it’s singular darkness.

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