Now that the madness of Christmas is over – don’t get us started on what Freud would have thought of candy canes, big red boxes, tube socks full of “gifts” and celebrating a young man’s sacrifice in the name of his father – we can get back to our weekly psychoanalysticle, Freudian Fridays. This week, our practically list-only friends at Entertainment Weekly offer this pertinent list: 12 Mighty Movie Monsters.

As many monster movie studies have shown, these ghastly celluloid creations have been able to provoke fear in film audiences since the beginning of cinema by tapping into our cultural anxieties. More than a simple popcorn-selling, scream-provoking guy in a suit, movie monsters articulate our fears by making them visible and, ultimately, vulnerable. They represent our collective nightmares, and as such are perfect for Freudian dream analysis.

So The Terminator isn’t just an Austrian body-building champion come back from the future to take control of California, he’s also a vessel for technophilia and technophobia at the dawn of the digital age. With such loaded monster meanings in mind, here’s what EW’s 12 Mighty Movie Monsters are really about:

King Kong (1933)

Taken from a racialized tribal island by stuffy capitalists, Kong is sexuality unleashed, straight male libido built up and let loose all over New York, its screaming damsel in torn clothes and its phallic monuments to capitalism.

Godzilla (1954)

The result of nuclear testing in the Pacific between the end of World War II and the beginning of the Cold War, Godzilla’s attack on Japan represents a nightmare of nuclear apocalypse tapping into geopolitical anxieties.

The Blob (1958)

With its gelatinous, gooey, translucent pink membrane and perpetually-increasing girth, The Blob clearly represents the primal fear and fantasy of being re-absorbed into the womb.

Nancy Archer (Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, 1958)

This one is easy. On the eve of the 60s and their sexual revolutions, determined Nancy Archer with her heaving cleavage and zippy convertible is a symbol of female empowerment. The title of “Most Grotesque Monstrosity of All” seems unfair though: she’s the sexiest embodiment of male anxieties about increasing female mobility we’ve ever seen (sorry Sharon Stone).

The Kraken (Clash of the Titans, 1981)

With its smattering of biblical and mythological references, Titans unfolds in a society of absolute control (notice the clay doll-crushing council governing much of the action), and its many-handed Kraken from the sea symbolizes that obsession with control run rampant.

Quetzalcoatal (Q, 1982)

This fantastic animal of Aztec mythology terrorizing blue- and white-collar Manhattanites is an obvious symbol for the white man’s fear of Mexican immigrants taking over the lowest levels of the labor market.

The Sand Worms of Arrakis (Dune, 1984)

As EW correctly points out, these ultra-phallic wiggly worms are unbound, monstrous penises. They represent male power and sexuality set loose, and Dune’s hyper-rational wisemen therefore have to harness and control them.

The Sta-Puft Marshmellow Man (Ghost Busters, 1984)

Tearing new traffic patterns into New York City’s grid, the Stay Puft Marshmellow Man is really a giant kid, and as such represents the playful, destructive and innocent impulses of a child set loose on a rigid adult society.

The T-Rexes (The Lost World: Jurassic Park, 1997)

Much as they resemble a fossilized T-Rex, Spielberg’s prehistoric beasties were actually concocted from millennia-old mosquito meals and chicken and frog DNA, so these are really science’s monsters. Not surprisingly, then, they represent a fear of advanced genetics and man’s propensity for playing God when he gets a-hold of multibillion dollar chemistry sets.

The Balrog (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, 2001)

This giant, overweight, fire-belching bovine baddie is a symbol of obesity that terrifies our slim white protags. Notice how many structures he destroys simply because of his over-emphasized girth: the Balrog obviously represents our body control anxieties.

Various Dragons (Reign of Fire, 2002)

With its post-millennial apocalyptic scenario, Reign of Fire articulates our fears of excess and over-indulgence by using dragons to return us to medieval society. We’ve been bad, we’ve been dirty and gross, so the dragons are here to put us in our place.

Unnamed Huge Mutant Creature (The Host, 2006)

Easily one of our all-time favorites, this Korean thriller-family melodrama-comedy is (along with Wall-E) the best environmental polemnic ever filmed. Not surprisingly, then, its monster represents environmental ruin. Of course, its apetite for abducting pre-teens also makes it a symbol for adolescents’ emerging sexualities, which can be almost as terrifying as global warming.