Revisiting Tales from the Crypt isn’t about picking favorites; it’s about appreciating just how many episodes burn into memory. I sat down, thinking I’d just pick out my top 15, then realized almost every single one is a contender (minus the last season, let’s be real). What I love about Tales is that no matter where you land, every episode is memorable. With top-tier talent pulling the strings, this show didn’t exactly play nice—and honestly, that’s what makes it so hard to forget.
This is hands down one of the strangest things I’ve ever watched. Truly. But that’s exactly what makes it memorable. Molly—played brilliantly by Sherrie Rose—isn’t just a standout in this episode; she’s one of my favorite characters, period. The story leans into the classic “good for her” trope, but it’s Rose’s performance that really elevates the whole thing. It follows Carl, a guy who outs himself as an abuser within minutes of screen time, casually making it clear he’s a walking red flag. After being called out and kicked out of his best friend’s party, he retreats to the kitchen to stew in his own anger. That’s where he meets Molly. Their chemistry is unsettlingly magnetic, and when he says, “Certain wrongs deserve certain justifiable actions,” Molly’s chilling reply—“I don’t disagree”—sets the stage for a story that’s as eerie as it is satisfying.
The first non-personified red flag? Molly’s apartment. It feels uninhabitable—more like an abandoned set piece than a home. The unease ramps up when Molly strips out of her body bag-style coat and practically drags Carl into the bedroom. There’s an unsettling dynamic here: Molly tells Carl to take out all his anger and pain on her in what feels like reverse domination therapy. But while Carl thinks he’s found a way to exorcise his demons, it’s clear Molly has other plans.
As the night goes on, the episode leans harder into its surreal, almost dreamlike quality. Molly’s behavior swings between charismatic and erratic—one moment she’s wielding a skillsaw, the next she’s nonchalantly retreating to bed like she’d rather be anywhere but with Carl. Despite all this, Carl convinces himself he’s in love with her, but every step he takes toward her only makes her pull further away. When he tries to uncover anything about her—an ID, a trace of her past—he finds nothing. That’s when the real horror begins.
Carl stumbles upon a secret door in Molly’s apartment, and inside, he finds her collection of faces—a grotesque reminder that Molly isn’t who, or what, he thought she was. In a panic, he tries to attack her, but Molly, always one step ahead, has already drugged him. The haze he feels turns him from abuser to victim in seconds, and Molly takes her revenge, adding him to her twisted curio cabinet.
Is Molly a vigilante? A good Samaritan? Or something else entirely? The episode doesn’t hand you an easy answer, which is exactly what makes it so haunting. All you know is that Carl won’t be hurting anyone again, and that feels like justice served—with a darkly satisfying twist.
I’ll be honest—this pick isn’t entirely mine. My mom, the one who got me hooked on Tales from the Crypt in the first place, insisted this one makes the cut. And let’s face it, I’m not about to argue with her taste. It’s one of my choices as well…apple, tree… Creep Course is another quintessential “good for her” episode (I promise it’s not on purpose) packed with betrayal, revenge, and a mummy dishing out poetic justice. The setup is deceptively simple: Reggie, a smug sports bro, and his scheming professor, Finley, rope in shy, earnest Stella, thinking she’s the perfect wallflower target for their self-serving plan. Spoiler: they underestimated her.
At first glance, Stella seems destined to be another classic victim—sweet, naive, and just trying to keep her head down. But when she’s thrust into a deadly showdown with a reanimated mummy, she flips the script. Instead of panicking, Stella adapts, proving that underestimating someone because they don’t fit your mold is always a mistake. Watching her outsmart Reggie and Professor Finley as they fumble in their own arrogance is something pretty awesome.
However, while the ending—with Reggie and Professor Finley each trapped in their own sarcophagus—is undeniably satisfying, I can’t help but feel Stella might’ve been a bit smarter about covering her tracks. Still, what they did to her was beyond messed up, so it’s impossible not to root for her. Compared to someone like Molly in Only Skin Deep, Stella’s lingering trauma feels completely justified.
I feel like a total wiener for waiting until the end to watch Television Terror—and even then, I couldn’t do it before bedtime. Not a fan of night terrors. This episode just soaks you in atmosphere, with its unsettling music, dark palette, and a sense of dread that seeps into every frame. From the moment the cameras roll, you know it’s going to end badly—just not how badly.
Horton Rivers, played by Morton Downey Jr., makes it ridiculously easy to loathe him. His lack of empathy is rock bottom, and his producer egging him on to “spice it up or lose viewers” doesn’t help. And yet, as much as their behavior feels like a double-edged sword—both understandable given their contempt for Horton and problematic in its callousness—you almost don’t blame them for their stance. We, the viewers, see the house’s sinister history first through flashbacks, but when Horton starts seeing it too, the episode shifts into full-on nightmare mode. Strange phenomena starts happening, and it all feels like a ruse until it isn’t.
What makes Television Terror hit so hard is how it blurs the line between exploitation and survival. Horton’s smug detachment crumbles as the house tightens its grip, delivering karmic justice, and makes you wonder if the hammer should have come down that hard. The crew’s snide remarks, the producer’s disregard, and the slow unraveling of Horton’s world all build to a finale that makes you question what you just saw. At the end of the day, it’s all about ratings and their contempt for Horton. People like a good reality show, especially when it isn’t.
I don’t hear this one mentioned nearly enough, and honestly, I can’t figure out why. With the legendary David Warner as Dr. Alan Getz—a smug child psychologist who could give pre-Dr. Phil a run for his money—and the equally iconic Zelda Rubinstein as Nora, a devoted yet disturbingly unhinged listener, this episode just does something to you.
Dr. Getz’s mantra is simple: “Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.” But when his ratings tank, he decides to up the ante by making a house call to Nora, one of his most faithful (and peculiar) callers. At her decrepit mansion, he’s met with wails from her troubled daughter, Felicity, and Nora’s unnerving insistence that she’s tried everything—including his book, The Art of Ignoring Your Child. After a few unsettling exchanges (including Nora pointing to a photo of General Douglas MacArthur as Felicity’s father), Alan should’ve taken the hint to run. Instead, he and his team decide to meet Felicity. Nope.
From the moment we catch our first glimpse of Felicity—a masked figure darting down the hall—it’s clear she doesn’t play nicely. Alan’s assumptions about Nora’s mental health unravel, surprising both him and the viewer, as the house reveals its sinister side—strange occurrences like the attack fan, purple goop, and the chilling discovery of the other child psychologists’ bodies. By the time they realize the truth—that Felicity has been dead for 40 years, sustained by Nora’s warped devotion—it’s far too late. So much for ignoring it, Alan. What’s the diagnosis for your current situation?
If you haven’t seen Dead Heat, you haven’t lived—and if you’re a fan of Treat Williams, None But the Lonely Heart is the reunion you needed. Reuniting with Terry Black, Williams takes center stage as Howard Prince, a scheming gigolo turned serial widower. What’s the hustle? Marrying wealthy widows, prematurely ending their lives, and inheriting their fortunes. A real piece of work, that one. But as with all things Tales from the Crypt, Howard’s greed catches up with him in spectacular, karmic fashion.
Instead of quitting while he’s ahead, Howard sets his sights on Effie Gluckman, played by the fantastic Frances Sternhagen. Effie is more than he bargained for, but Howard pulls out all the stops to woo her, even playing the pity card with a fake affliction. Effie, charmed and smitten, takes on the challenge while her butler Stanhope (Henry Gibson) sneaks a peek. Just when Howard thinks he’s won, anonymous letters begin to haunt him, urging him to stop before it’s too late. Howard assumes his partner is behind the notes and promptly handles him—with a shredder, no less. He marries Effie, of course, but the warnings persist, and the mystery deepens. First, he blames his partner, then the video dating guy, played by none other than Tom Hanks (yes, that Tom Hanks, pulling double duty as director). As Howard schemes and murders his way toward Effie’s fortune, his plans unravel superbly. Turns out, Effie’s not going down so easily—and when she does, she’s not staying down for long. Howard finally books a flight to escape his mess, only to find himself face-to-face with Sugar Ray Leonard as the gravedigger (because why not?) and the reanimated corpses of his former “lovers.” Let’s just say they’re not interested in forgiveness. They corner him in a mausoleum and take their oh so sweet revenge. GOD, the practical effects are amazing here!
Side note: Treat Williams, this horror gal misses seeing that dashing face of yours. And Tom Hanks, if you’re reading this, please—one more Horror project. Do it for us.
Somehow, without even realizing it, I ended up picking episodes where the ladies get the final say—and honestly, that just makes me love Tales from the Crypt even more. The series still feels timeless, with twists and dark humor that stay with you long after the credits roll.
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