Editorials
The 13 Best Episodes of ‘Courage the Cowardly Dog’
We interrupt this program to bring you our favorite episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog.
This November 2022 makes it twenty years since the Courage the Cowardly Dog series officially ended. A staple in 90s kid memories, Courage the Cowardly Dog ran for four seasons on Cartoon Network from 1999-2002. Directed and created by John R. Dilworth, the series covered a wealth of nightmarish imagery and ideals, ranging from classic horror tropes such as alien abduction and demonic possession to unique frights such as a possessed gangster foot fungus and evil bananas. Only this show could simultaneously deliver some of the most unsettling cartoon frights alongside the silliest resolutions.
The 13 Best Episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog
Through horror or heartbreak, these are the episodes that made a life-lasting impression through memorable monsters and are forever solidified as my favorite episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog. In solidarity with every season consisting of 13 episodes, this list comprises 13 titles.
13. “The Chicken from Outerspace” (Pilot)
The one that started it all. 90s kids were acquainted with Courage long before the show first premiered in 1999, thanks to this episode. Three years earlier, in 1996, the Cartoon Network series What a Cartoon aired what would serve as the pilot episode of Courage the Cowardly Dog. The VHS release of Scooby-Doo and The Witch’s Ghost also featured this episode. The mental image of Eustace eating the red-spotted alien eggs and turning into a chicken himself still disturbs me today.
12. “The Magic Tree of Nowhere” (S2 Ep1)
One of the only episodes on the list where it is not the shudder-inducing factor that led to its inclusion. This heartfelt story showed that sometimes the regular people are the real monsters. Eustace stops at nothing to destroy the tree which has captured Muriel’s attention. In a fit of jealousy and much to his wife’s and Courage’s dismay, he chops the magic wishing tree down. The tragic tale and the tree’s human mouth (along with nostalgic parallels to Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree) made this episode memorable.
11. “Profiles in Courage” (S4 Ep6)
The carcass that remains after paper cameos with a mind of their own suck the essence from The Bagges is horrific enough alone to bear mention upon this list. The episode doesn’t stop the horror there, however, as Eustace and Muriel are transformed into paper versions of themselves and suffer numerous paper-related catastrophes, including blowing uncontrollably in the wind, a pin through the hand, and catching fire. The hesitant, robotic way in which the paper versions of Eustace and Muriel speak punctuates all the creepy visuals. From start to finish, the episode is shiver-inducing.
10. “Queen of the Black Puddle” (S1 Ep9)
Featuring a water spirit who can arise from any liquid surface, the icon status of this villain alone merits her inclusion. Known for taking on an attractive form for her intended victim, she first seduces them and then drags them to her watery lair. Once they arrive, the queen takes on a hideous shape. Her domain is revealed to be littered with the bones of all of her previous victims.
The Black Puddle Queen is believed to have the highest kill count versus any other villain in the Courage the Cowardly Dog universe, given the number of skeletons shown in her lair.
9. “Campsite Terror” (S3 Ep2)
As the opening credits and scenes play idyllic classical music (specifically Morning Mood by Edvard Grieg) and open to a shot of the Bagges happily camping in the wilderness, the episode is immediately unsettling. The other shoe will surely drop at any moment. Then night falls. By the time Eustace goes missing, the music has transformed into foreboding organ playing. Enter a robber raccoon duo who kidnaps Muriel and ties up Courage.
While the monsters themselves aren’t scary on their own, the episode’s score bouncing back and forth from peaceful to sinister creates memorable tension. The creepiest part is when Muriel is discovered, with the raccoons unharmed. They are watching something on TV that is scarier than most of the Courage monsters combined: John R Dilworth’s face with dead eyes plastered on old-school Godzilla footage. Nightmare fuel? Oh yes, sir.
8. “The Demon in the Mattress” (S1 Ep3)
After responding to an ad for a “life-changing” new bed, the mattress proves to have a life of its own. The episode quickly becomes reminiscent of The Exorcist as Muriel speaks in a deep voice, and her head begins to spin around. In lieu of Latin bible verses, the Dilworth treatment of the classic horror film sees Eustace performing an exorcism by reciting: “Hullaballoo and howdy do. Musty prawns and Timbuktu”
7. “Journey to the Center of Nowhere” (S1 Ep12)
Something is intriguing about plants wanting to level the playing field and fight back against their predators. Naturally, the episode where Courage discovers a herd of vengeance-seeking eggplants was bound to make this list. When Courage infiltrates the group donning an eggplant costume, we are treated to a taste of eggplant religion as they all begin to hail the Great Eggplant who has spoken.
They express their desire to get revenge on those who grow them just to eat them, which creates my favorite brand of dichotomy that causes us to ask: “Is the villain evil?”. Though the question would be answered by the end of the episode, as all the eggplants needed was some water to turn them into a bunch of peace-loving, tranquil eggplants once more. Dilworth put gardeners under advisement with this episode: ensure your eggplants get sufficient water.
6. “Everyone Wants to Direct” (S1 Ep9)
Featuring a zombified Benton Tarantella, who advertises himself as a horror director and shows up at the house in the middle of Nowhere. He tells the Bagge family he is there to film a horror movie, to which both Eustace and Muriel are delighted. The true horror of the episode comes into play when Courage asks his computer about the visitor. That’s when he learns the terrifying truth: Benton Tarantella and his partner Errol Von Volkheim used to pose as horror movie directors and enact actual violence.
Though they were both imprisoned and long since deceased, Tarantella rose from the grave to revive his former partner, buried beneath the Nowhere house. Between the deceit, resurrection scene, and the existence of hungry serial killer zombies, this episode had all of the trappings to give little me nightmares.
5. “Perfect” (S4 Ep13)
The episode that ended it all. The finale showed viewers that sometimes our brains are our own worst enemies. Following Courage’s quest to be perfect, he is put through stringent coaching lessons. He suffers a stream of anxiety-induced nightmares until the frightened dog looks arguably worse off than ever depicted in the series. Courage ends the episode with the lesson that no one is perfect, and the quest to be that way can squander opportunities for fun. Only once Courage ignores the rude words of others and marches to the beat of his own drum does he find happiness.
4. “King Ramses Curse” (S1 Ep7)
This episode has become the cult favorite of the series, as it has countless memes and mentions in remembrance. Following King Ramses’s apparition, anyone possessing the cursed slab finds themselves subjected to plagues of water, locusts, and deafening music. But the creepy, ethereal voice of King Ramses made the episode the fan favorite that it is today. “Return the slab or suffer my curse.”
3. “Freaky Fred” (S1 Ep3)
Speaking in rhymes reminiscent of a crossover between Dr. Seuss and Sweeney Todd, the titular Freaky Fred makes an ominous appearance at his cousin Muriel Bagge’s house, punctuating every rhyming stanza with Fred explaining that he’s been “naughty.” As the episode continues, it becomes clear that Fred’s brand of mischief involves shaving people and pets bald against their wishes. As Fred has Courage cornered in the bathroom and gives him a forced haircut, one thing is sure: Of all the episodes, this one is the most unsettling.
2. “Evil Weevil” (S2 Ep11)
The show begins innocently enough, in Courage terms. Eustace accidentally hits a bug while driving; a human-sized butler bug in a suit, tie, and top hat. Muriel invites the weevil home with them, and he proves to be a pleasant buggy butler. However, it isn’t long before one particularly nightmarish scene shows his hose nose retracting back into him, followed immediately by a shot of an emaciated Eustace. The weevil was evil and was sucking the life force from the Bagges. After Eustace withers to dust and Muriel is reduced to skin and bones, Courage turns the tables by using the weevil’s snout against it. Altogether entertaining, ick-inducing, and horrific. A fantastic episode.
1. “The Great Fusilli” (S1 Ep13)
From the creepy music starting at the title card to a mysterious vehicle that opens to a stage piloted by an Italian alligator telling Eustace and Muriel to “see the stage come alive,” it’s immediately clear that viewers are in for a ride with this one. For many of us 90’s kids, this episode served as our memorable introduction to the linguistic warm-up: “how now, brown cow.” By the end, the creepy images of clowns and freakish disembodied applause were at the back of everyone’s minds.
In my favorite and most remembered moment of the series, Courage stumbles across Fusilli’s room filled with former people-turned puppets. Then strings erupt from the mouths of comedy tragedy masks and turn Eustace and Muriel into marionettes themselves. While not every episode ends on a happy note, this marked a time when he could not save Muriel from the threat. Though he inhibited her from becoming a part of Fusilli’s collection, this did not change the fact that by the end of the episode, Fusilli had turned Courage’s family into lifeless puppets.
Through all these episodes, Courage the Cowardly Dog made a lasting impact on both my childhood and my memory. How many of your favorite episodes made the cut? Is there any you wish had been included? Sound off in the comments, and stream episodes of Courage the Cowardly Dog at HBO Max.
The United States spent most of this year celebrating its 250th anniversary. There have been parades, fireworks, and endless reminders of what the nation wants us to think are its founding ideals. Yet anniversaries are as much about what we choose to remember as they are about what we choose to forget. There is another anniversary this year. Five years ago this month, Candyman was released. The fact that both that film and America are sharing an anniversary this year may have been an accident, but that makes it no less significant.
Released amid another national reckoning over race, Nia DaCosta’s film asks a question that every celebration of America ought to confront: Is it possible to commemorate this nation without fully reckoning with the violence woven into its history? More than a sequel to a horror classic, Candyman is a meditation on the ghosts that haunt America because it has never fully reckoned with the past that created them.
How the Original Candyman Confronted America’s Racial History
The original Candyman understood this. Released in 1992 and set in the almost post-apocalyptic urban decay that was Chicago’s Cabrini-Green housing projects, Bernard Rose’s film arrived only months after the L.A. Race Riots, a moment when this country was coming to terms with the way the country’s relationship with Black folks was shaped by decades of segregation and racism.
Most audiences saw a supernatural slasher about a hook-handed killer summoned by saying his name five times into a mirror. But beneath the horror was a far more unsettling story. Candyman was about the lingering consequences of America’s racial history and the way white America has sometimes turned Black suffering into myth instead of confronting the systems that produced it.
The film’s true horror was never simply Candyman. It was the realization that monsters can be born from histories a nation refuses to face. That is exactly where the 2021 film expands the original’s vision.
Nia DaCosta’s Candyman Turns One Ghost Into Many
Bernard Rose’s Candyman explored the legacy of a single act of racist terror. Nia DaCosta’s film argues that the tragedy wasn’t confined to Daniel Robitaille, the man who became the monster. The 2021 film posits that Candyman is not one man but many.
Daniel Robitaille was lynched for loving a white woman. Sherman Fields takes on the mantle of the supernatural slasher because he was beaten to death by police after being falsely accused of harming a child. Anthony McCoy ultimately becomes part of the same legend. Their stories span generations, but they are connected by a nation that repeatedly produces the same injustice under different names at different points in history. The genius of the sequel is that it transforms Candyman from an individual ghost into a symbol of America’s recurring racial violence.
Candyman Shows How History Repeats Itself
History, the film suggests, is not something that happened once. It is something that keeps happening. That is why Candyman is one of my favorite films to teach in my Film and Philosophy course.
Students walk into class expecting a horror movie. They leave wrestling with questions about history, memory, and justice. We spend little time talking about jump scares or gore. (Because, let’s be honest, there is not much of that in the film.) Instead, we ask why some histories become legends while others are forgotten, what societies owe their victims, and whether a nation can ever move forward without honestly confronting the violence that shaped it.
The Horror of Remembering What America Wants to Forget
A good horror film reveals what we fear. What makes Candyman great is how it reveals what we would rather not remember. That is what haunted me the first time I saw it, long after the credits had rolled.
Five years after its release, Candyman remains one of the most unsettling movies in recent years because the history it confronts is not safely behind us. The original film understood that America’s racial violence could not simply be buried, while the 2021 film showed how easily that violence can be reproduced across generations.
Its Unquestionable Legacy in Horror
As America celebrates 250 years, Candyman reminds us that commemorating the nation’s founding requires remembering all this country’s history, including the parts that make the celebration uncomfortable.
We cannot exorcise a ghost by refusing to acknowledge why it exists. Perhaps that is the film’s most important lesson. The past does not haunt us because we remember it. It haunts us because we don’t.
Sometimes it feels borderline ridiculous to gush about John Carpenter’s The Thing as much as I do. It’s gotten to the point where when I’m asked about my favorite horror film by both friends and strangers, a little bit of embarrassment tinges my expression as I answer; it feels so obvious and rarely surprises anyone. Saying I love The Thing when people expect me to bust out an obscure foreign horror film or a cerebral thriller makes me feel like a rosy cheeked child with a propeller hat and a giant lollipop. “Wow, you love one of the most popular horror films of all time, congrats!”
But it’s just the truth. The first film of John Carpenter’s “Apocalypse Trilogy”, all three of its films are among my favorites. But The Thing has a special place in my heart. It shaped my taste in horror, my taste in most media in general, to be honest. It’s become the gold standard, 10/10 baseline test for the vast majority of my reviews; it is a perfect film, so I judge other films against it. And it’s one of the few movies I have to run back to and watch yearly like clockwork (usually when I’m spending a part of winter tied to the couch). It is, in all regards, the perfect film. If it isn’t the perfect film, then it is at the very least the perfect sci-fi horror film.
So, what exactly qualifies The Thing for literal perfection? It’s a high bar to clear. This article, as informal as it is compared to most of my editorials, is an attempt to explain it.
Even if Carpenter Isn’t the Goat, His Team for The Thing Was
As far as crews go, John Carpenter’s The Thing had the cinematic equivalent of the ’96 Chicago Bulls behind it. We’re talking about an amalgam of some of the most talented people to ever grace the silver screens with their work, boasting alongside John Carpenter two of the heaviest hitters in all of cinematic history: Dean Cundey, and Rob Bottin. Now, we can debate all day about whether John Carpenter is the greatest of all time when it comes to horror directors. Personally, I’m just as liable to say Cronenberg, Del Toro, or Hooper as I am to say Carpenter.
But the key factor to remember here is that Carpenter is the coach, not the star player; the Phil Jackson, if you will. Yes, he is the visionary who directed a near perfect cast of players and composed a tale of pure, apocalyptic paranoia. More importantly, he put together and coordinated the team that would make his vision manifest as reality. And if Carpenter is Phil Jackson, Rob Bottin is the team’s Michael Jordan here, the greatest of all time.
(And to all my Lebron fans, I love you, but you have to sit down for this analogy.)
The Legend of Rob Bottin
Bottin’s story is borderline unbelievable, but it’s the best way to explain how abnormally skilled he is and what he brought to the table for Carpenter. At age 14, Bottin became an apprentice to the at-the-time GOAT Rick Baker after sending him a letter seeking an autograph while sharing his creature designs. He was a quick study under Baker, joining him on the ’76 King Kong and Star Wars, before bouncing to Carpenter’s The Fog and then iconic werewolf picture The Howling.
When he reunited with Carpenter in 1982, he now had 6 classic films under his belt and was moving like an FX bullet train. From ages 22 to 23, he worked on The Thing for 57 weeks in both pre-production and on set. Nearly 24/7 for 400 days, Bottin’s all-gas no-brakes work ethic made The Thing at the cost of his own health, and it resulted in him being hospitalized with pneumonia. He survived and went on to make Robocop. And at least one of your favorite films.
Because no conventional disease or weaponry can kill Rob Bottin.
The Thing Still Features Horror’s Best Practical Effects
Okay, that last bit might be hyperbolic, but the man sincerely put his life on the line to make special effects that haven’t been topped since. Not the best effects in just horror history, or science fiction history, but effects that haven’t been topped in any genre for over 44 years. Not by his mentor Rick Baker, not by Screaming Mad George, not by Alec Gillis (though shoutout to him for his criminally scrapped work on The Thing (2011), and even more criminally ignored work on Harbinger Down). I love Dawn of the Dead, believe me, I do, but he certainly isn’t being beaten out by Tom Savini’s body of work. And that isn’t to disrespect and say that all of the artists that I just mentioned are bad, they’re the best in the game! But Rob Bottin was just that much better.
This inevitably invites the counterpoint: “But it wasn’t just Bottin! Stan Winston and his people were the ones who worked on the Dog Thing to give Bottin’s crew a break, and that’s the best monster in the movie!”. To which I say: look me in the eye and tell me the Dog Thing sequence is better than the Palmer Thing sequence. That’s not even counting the Norwegian Thing, both Norris Things, and the absolutely masterful final creature work that was the Blair Thing. The only reason Bottin and his people didn’t win Academy Awards for their work was because they got jumped by E.T., The Dark Crystal, Conan the Barbarian, and Blade Runner all at the same time at the Oscars. It’s just a consequence of being released during the best year for movies ever.
Okay, Now We Can Talk About Dean Cundey
But of course, these effects are then supported by another true legend: Dean Cundey. Selling people on Rob Bottin being the greatest effects artist of all time, isn’t nearly as difficult as advocating for Cundey, who despite an impressive catalog of filmography, slowed down in the back half of his career. He’s often overshadowed in conversations when it comes to The Thing; it’s always talk of Carpenter’s directing, Bottin’s effects, and Ennio Morricone’s incredible soundtrack up front, and rarely any of Cundey’s work. He isn’t spoken about in the same breath as John Alcott or Michael Ballhaus, cinematographers whose work is associated with prestigious cinema because of their proximity to great directors.
Cundey might not be the director of photography your Martin Scorsese’s or Paul Thomas Anderson’s went running to, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t think he was the most important cinematographer in horror history, just for his work with Carpenter and Spielberg. He helmed three of the most influential films in all of horror with his lighting and camera operating: The Thing, Halloween, and Jurassic Park. The man’s fingerprints are automatically on the cultural DNA of all slashers, most practical effects-driven horror films, and the biggest gateway horror franchise in film history.
The Dream Team That Made The Thing Perfection
Cundey has gone on record saying that despite Carpenter’s input, he was effectively given free rein to light and frame The Thing. The man didn’t just know how to shoot effects to make them evoke true disgust from the audience, he was able to manipulate every aspect of the shot to terrify. His sixth sense cinematography wasn’t just for lighting and playing with shadows, but for the speed of camera movement, the power of his blocking, and for having a complete grasp of communicating texture and temperature.
And temperature is the soul of The Thing. John J. Lloyd’s production design of the research station and the great white expanse around it feels just as bone chilling as the film’s antagonist, thanks to Cundey. There isn’t a single flat shot in the thing, not a moment that doesn’t feel dynamic, and it’s because of Dean Cundey.
Now, all this being said about Bottin and Cundey, they are far from the only ones who synthesized this structurally perfect organism of a movie. Every bit of Todd C. Ramsay’s editing splices the film’s scenes together to move perfectly in-time. David Lewis Yewdall’s sound design and how it gave a voice to the horrors on screen will be etched into people’s brains forever. The point is that everyone, every single person who had a hand in making the film, helped make the movie flawless.
Like the cells of the thing from another world, each crew member on John Carpenter’s The Thing moved in concert with the next, in unison, to create the greatest sci-fi horror of all time. So, is it any wonder why 40 some years later, the film still has us all captured?
