Does someone die in every horror movie ever made? The answer is no, as counterintuitive as that may seem. Indeed, some entries in the genre rely solely on tense atmosphere or implied terror to create a cathartic experience. On the flip side, there are horror films where everybody dies, the lack of survivors underlining the utter bleakness of the world that the characters inhabit. Examples include John Carpenter’s “The Thing,” whose ending pretty much seals the fate of the two remaining survivors, and George A. Romero’s “Night of the Living Dead,” which ends with the brutal death of the potential final boy. Multiple deaths are also a staple of the slasher genre, which often raises the stakes via the harrowing arc of a lone survivor who must find a way to persevere against all odds.

Circling back to horror movies where absolutely nobody dies, I have compiled a list of five such popular films that feature zero deaths and rely heavily on atmospheric thrills to induce terror. Discourse surrounding this topic tends to include 1999’s “The Blair Witch Project,” but I have excluded that seminal found-footage horror flick since its offscreen deaths are heavily implied (even though the true nature of the killer remains ambiguous). While there’s an argument to be made that the events of “The Blair Witch Project” are merely paranoid hallucinations or triggered by something more terrifyingly mundane, either way there’s ample reason to believe that no one survives the film.

Without further ado, let us dive into these movies and explore what makes them effectively frightening despite their lack of character deaths.

For a movie that is all about simulating near-death, it is surprising that Joel Schumacher’s “Flatliners” does not actually kill off any of its characters. However, the constant tension evoked by the film’s premise flirts with the idea of doing just that, even as the tone flits between taut tension and pure camp. In “Flatliners,” med student Nelson (Kiefer Sutherland) convinces his peers to flatline him for a minute before resuscitation with defibrillators, the goal being to discover life after death. The fine line between curiosity and recklessness is walked throughout, especially when every “flatlined” student experiences a horrifying vision linked to their psychological impulses during the one-minute window.

The horror inherent in the film stems from the literal manifestation of individual sins or trauma, which come back in tangible ways to haunt the characters after they return from the near-death simulation. For instance, Rachel (Julia Roberts) comes very close to death during her flatlining after her friends are unable to revive her, but she survives after reliving the harrowing memory of her father’s suicide. The characters’ desire to solve one of the biggest mysteries about life — What happens after death? — comes at the terrible cost of having to confront the horrors of their pasts. This is a film about personal hells and the inescapable nature of guilt, which always finds a way to gnaw at one’s soul.

Everyone loves a good ghost story, and “The Others” checks every box when it comes to telling a spooky little tale about a haunting. The year is 1945, and Grace (Nicole Kidman) resides in a lovely gothic mansion with her two children, who suffer from light sensitivity and are required to follow a long list of specific instructions for their wellbeing. The arrival of three individuals in search of employment, whom Grace hires as caretakers of the estate, coincides with hauntings that shake an already paranoid Grace to the core. Doors are banged shut in her face, musical instruments come alive in the dead of night, and at one point in “The Others,” one of the children gets possessed during an innocent game of dress-up. As the scares ramp up, the film casts the illusion of heading in a certain direction, only to make a hard left when you least expect it.

The “twist” at the end of “The Others” is talked about a lot, and for good reason; the film builds up suspense with the aid of traditional genre tropes only to completely subvert them to convincing ends. If we are being technical here, — (major spoilers ahead!) — the fates of Grace and her children do count as deaths, but they have been dead all along, and are simply not aware of it. We share their collective ignorance until the spell is broken and take their lived experiences as proof of life, which the film utilizes in its favor to make the surprising nature of the twist ending stick the landing. And it does.

Written and produced by Steven Spielberg, “Poltergeist” feels like the quintessential Spielbergian experience, but it was, in fact, not directed by him. Instead, Tobe Hooper’s capable hands shaped this classic tale into an extraordinarily moving piece of horror fueled by the need to protect the ones we love. “Poltergeist” is a ghost story that relies on relatively few supernatural special effects. Instead, the focus is on the Freelings, who go through hell in the planned community of Cuesta Verde after an inexplicable poltergeist intrusion. However, the real culprits behind the situation turn out to be capitalistic opportunists: the real estate developers who disregard the sanctity of life to prioritize profits, no matter what the cost.

When Hooper does indulge in technical special effects to evoke scares, such as when a tree limb crashes through a window or when the Freelings’ young daughter Carol Anne (Heather O’Rourke) is sucked into a portal, the results are haunting and eerie. No matter how outlandish the hauntings get, the emotional core of the film remains painfully authentic. Here, a seemingly perfect family unit is disrupted by supernatural entities, forcing its members to prove their love for one another by fighting an evil beyond their comprehension. There are several instances where death seems imminent, but “Poltergeist” opts for a safe return to order. In the end, the Freelings are able to successfully escape the source of their trauma and live another day.

“The Conjuring” might have fared well enough as a run-of-the-mill possession horror film, even without James Wan bringing greater emotional depth to the frequent jump scares and in-your-face moments. The popularity of the larger “Conjuring” franchise, especially this particular entry, can be attributed to several standout sequences that relish in the gleeful eeriness of an entity toying with its oblivious targets. The terrors that the Perrons experience in this film cannot be explained or quantified by anyone except Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga, respectively), who harbor their own grief in a world where demonic entities lurk within objects and people. Instead of simply fulfilling the role of the “seer” who anticipates the terrors to come, the Warrens wrangle with the anxieties that are an intrinsic part of their jobs, along with the risks that come with being exposed to those who dwell on the other side.

Admittedly, an animal dies in “The Conjuring,” but ultimately no human beings are permanently harmed here — even after the demonic entity named Bathsheba terrorizes the Perrons and possesses one of them. Amid tense games of hide and seek, disembodied claps from within closets, and vicious attempts to frighten the traumatized Peeron children, “The Conjuring” utilizes emotional stakes to drive its traditional narrative forward. The results are not unwelcome, as there is comfort in retreading familiar ground. Moreover, there’s much fun to be had when exaggerated scare tactics meet well-paced narrative choices that keep a haunting from feeling stale.

To get the obvious out of the way: the plot of M. Night Shyamalan’s “Signs” is, in fact, set in motion by someone’s death, albeit prior to the start of the film. The film follows the former priest Graham Hess (Mel Gibson), who recently lost his wife Colleen (Patricia Kalember) in a car accident, as he struggles with his faith while grieving with his brother Merrill (Joaquin Phoenix) and two children. This pervasive grief is exacerbated by reports of extraterrestrial sightings and crop circles appearing worldwide, including in the cornfields of Hess’s rural farm. I won’t spoil the beautiful, exhilarating ending to “Signs” in case you haven’t watched it yet, but the movie concludes on an immensely life-affirming note that allows Graham and his loved ones to process the void left behind by Colleen’s absence.

The only direct reference to death comes in the form of flashbacks to the accident that took Colleen’s life, but again, nobody actually dies in “Signs.” The film chooses to luxuriate in the tense, solemn atmosphere inside the isolated Hess farm, which is diluted from time to time due to the endearing levity that Merrill brings to the household. A secondary layer of turmoil is evoked by Graham’s tussle with faith, which slowly morphs into a misanthropic disdain for the notion of divine intervention. Although “Signs” literally bats for the beauty of human will and perseverance in the face of calamity, it also makes space for the fantastical, along with the validity of divinely ordained miracles.