Body horror is definitely a niche realm of horror that is hit or miss for a lot of people. Some of the concepts are universal – even though some of the delivery gets to be too gross or visceral for most. But I can’t get enough of it for some reason. The themes are fascinating to me.

For those who aren’t familiar with the subgenre, I once described it to my mom as “horror where you don’t have full agency of your body.” Her response was, “Would that make werewolves body horror?” Right on the money.

The classic werewolves have no control of transforming into a savage animal every full moon. There is no agency they can enact in this. It happens without their consent. The transformations we’ve seen in cinema have varied from old black-and-white camera tricks to the 80s – the heyday of practical effects – with films such as An American Werewolf in London and The Howling. Regardless of the approach, they’ve managed to capture the transformation and lean into the visceral horror spectrum of body horror.

One day, I was trying to figure out where my fascination for body horror originated, and it was while watching Disney’s Return to Oz with my daughter that I realized how much casual body horror actual exists in it. Almost every character Dorothy comes across in this adventure has some lack of agency over their body.

First off, we have Tik-Tok, a clockwork warrior with his brains, speech, and action all controlled by wind-up keys. With his design, he literally cannot keep himself wound up and relies on those around him to make sure he doesn’t lose control of his body or mind.

I think this movie was also where I fully fell in love with robots. Tik-Tok’s puppetry was apparently a nightmare, but it is a top-notch finished character in the film.

Next is Jack Pumpkinhead, a collection of objects bound by ropes and brought to life with a magical Powder of Life. Every step he takes comes with creaks and cracks as his unnatural body parts grind together and threaten to collapse into animate pieces.

Another character, the Gump, is much the same: a collection of objects similarly brought to life, culminating in a stuffed head of a gump (a mooselike creature native to Oz) that eventually gets separated from the rest of his body (much to his relief).

The villains, in particular, are spectacular with their body horror elements. Mombi is a witch that collects heads of beautiful girls. Each head is kept in a cabinet and is reattachable to her ambulatory body. In the movie, the heads have to be snapped into place, portraying this odd marriage of magic with engineering. It’s also worth noting that Mombi’s minions are the Wheelers, a gang of hooligans with wheels for hands and feet. ‘Nuff said.

Just some heads stored in cabinets. Like you do.

The true villain, however, is the Nome King. Nomes in Oz are stone creatures that travel through stone and are presented via the phenomenal claymation of Will Vinton, which adds a wonderful level of uncanny valley to the characters. The Nome King starts as a face in stone, but as he captures the heroes, he slowly morphs into a humanoid rendition of himself. This turning-stone-to-man process (and back to pure stone) is horrifying when you stop to realize that he’s essentially stealing lives to do it – even Tik-Tok’s, who prides himself on never having been alive.

Apparently, the Wheelers in L. Frank Baum’s original Ozma of Oz had organic wheels made out of keratin. I’m glad they opted to somehow make these nightmares less creepy in the movie.

Although Tik-Tok, Jack, and the Gump have a loss of agency over their own bodies, both Mombi and the Nome King not only have full agency but also display agency over the bodies of others. They essentially feast upon the bodies of others for their vanity (Mombi) or more power (the Nome King).

Put this collection of freaks and monsters together, and it’s not altogether shocking that this movie flopped at the box office back in 1985 but lived on through a rabidly loyal cult following. It was definitely a mainstay at my house growing up. My mom has always had an eye for weird things, and though she may not be ready for some Cronenberg recommendations, it was that fascination with offbeat cinema that helped me discover my own passion for body horror.

(Return to Oz is currently streaming on Disney+.)