From Greed (1924) to post-apocalyptic cinema, the desert has served as one of horror’s most unforgiving landscapes. This lecture, This lecture, presented by Ken Hollings for Miskatonic Institute of Horror Studies, traces how the American desert became a site of monsters, mutations, and moral collapse, shaped by atomic testing, exploitation cinema, and low-budget genre filmmaking.
Doors: 7pm [event starts promptly at 7.15pm, please do not be late]
Tickets £9-12
Terminal Desert begins with the anguish and horror at the end of Eric Von Stroheim’s 1924 silent classic Greed. Stranded in Death Valley, chained to the corpse of the man he has murdered, the film’s protagonist stares at blood-stained sand and scattered gold coins, realising—too late—that survival is impossible. Shot on location under punishing conditions, this scene anticipates a powerful cinematic tradition in which the desert becomes a space of horror, mutation, and moral collapse.
This lecture traces how the American desert evolved into a home for monsters, violent drifters, and irradiated nightmares. As one scientist warns in It Came from Outer Space, the desert itself is alive—capable of killing through heat, cold, and isolation. The atomic tests conducted in the Southwest only intensified this sense of desolation, transforming landscapes like the Mojave Desert and New Mexico’s Jornada del Muerto into symbolic wastelands. From 1950s creature features such as Them! and The Beast of Yucca Flats to low-budget alien worlds and mad-scientist narratives, these locations gradually replaced Bronson Canyon as Hollywood’s preferred terrain for the uncanny.
By the late 1960s and 1970s, exploitation cinema and biker films, including Motorpsycho and Satan’s Sadists, expanded the desert’s reputation as a blank screen for fantasies of violence, madness, and transgression. In the 1980s, imports like Mad Max cemented the desert as shorthand for post-apocalyptic survival, a lineage continued in films ranging from World Gone Wild to Tremors and Resident Evil: Extinction.
Ultimately, Terminal Desert challenges us to rethink horror’s aesthetics, revealing how cruelty and madness thrive not in shadowy interiors, but in relentless sunlight… exposed, inescapable, and unforgiving.