This week on So, You Like Horror?, we’re revisiting the 1990s Nickelodeon anthology classic Are You Afraid of the Dark? in a true family roundtable format. Joined by Sarah and our daughter Sophie, we break down why this series worked as gateway horror for an entire generation and why it still holds up today.

We explore the show’s unique campfire framing device, the cultural context of its 1990 premiere, and how The Midnight Society trusted kids with atmosphere instead of jump scares. From eerie standouts like “The Tale of the Phantom Cab” and “The Tale of the Twisted Claw” to emotionally layered episodes like “The Tale of the Nightly Neighbors” and the unsettling “The Tale of the Captured Souls,” we examine how the series handled big themes, mortality, prejudice, aging, isolation, and consequence without gore or spectacle.

We also discuss the 2019–2022 reboot era, including Carnival of Doom, Curse of the Shadows, and Ghost Island, and how modern pacing shifts the tone from campfire storytelling to serialized survival horror.

This episode looks at horror through three lenses: a parent revisiting childhood nostalgia, a child experiencing it for the first time, and a lifelong horror fan analyzing why it works. We talk about emotional regulation, storytelling as invocation, and why slower, atmosphere-driven scares can be more powerful than anything loud or fast.

If you grew up with Nickelodeon horror or you’re introducing it to your own kids, this conversation is for you.

In this episode of So, You Like Horror?, we take a closer look at The Haunting, a big-budget gothic horror film released at a turning point for studio horror in the late 1990s. Directed by Jan de Bont, the film reflects an era defined by massive sets, early CGI, and a growing belief that scale and spectacle could replace restraint.

Loosely inspired by Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, the 1999 adaptation makes a deliberate shift away from psychological ambiguity and internal dread, choosing instead to externalize horror through aggressive architecture, visible supernatural forces, and clearly defined evil.

We break down the film’s three-act structure, examine Eleanor “Nell” Vance as the emotional center of the story, and explore how Hill House functions as a physical manifestation of trauma rather than a space of uncertainty. Along the way, we discuss recurring themes including caretaking as self-erasure, fate versus free will, faith reduced to aesthetic design, and the tension between spectacle and subtlety in horror storytelling. We also place The Haunting in conversation with earlier and later adaptations, including The Haunting from 1963 and the Netflix series The Haunting of Hill House from 2018, to ask a central question: is this film a misunderstood gothic tragedy, or a cautionary tale about what happens when visual excess overwhelms emotional weight?

Thank you, everyone, for your support. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to reach out on Instagram at ⁠⁠⁠@so_you_like_horror⁠⁠⁠ or email us directly at soyoulikehorror@gmail.com. We're open to all conversations, suggestions, topics, and criticisms.

In Part 2 of our The Haunting of Hill House breakdown, we cover Episodes 6 through 10 of the 2018 Netflix series and track how the Crain family’s grief finally stops hiding behind coping mechanisms. We start with “Two Storms,” the episode built around extended long takes that trap the siblings in the funeral home while the past and present collide. Shirley’s anger, Theo’s suppression, Steven’s denial, and Luke’s bargaining all play out in real time as Nell lingers silently in the background. From there, “Eulogy” reframes Hugh Crain as the quiet protector whose secrecy was meant as love but turned into long-term damage, while “Witness Marks” forces Steven to confront the evidence he’s spent years explaining away. “Screaming Meemies” centers on Olivia’s descent and shows how Hill House weaponizes maternal fear through bargaining and the illusion of safety. We close with “Silence Lay Steadily,” where the Red Room is revealed, each sibling is pulled into a personalized illusion, and the series lands on its central idea: the real haunting is grief, and the only way out is to witness it, name it, and live with what it leaves behind.