THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE (2018)

I’ve been following director Mike Flanagan’s career ever since his debut, Absentia, was quietly released to video following a successful film festival run. I’d been so eager to see it that I’d messaged him on Facebook to inquire where I could find it and he’d politely responded. Now look at him: in less than eight years, he’s matriculated from a kind fellow answering Facebook inquiries to landing the gig of making a sorta-sequel to The Shining, one of the greatest and most intimidating horror films of all time. (He is also still politely answering questions, this time on Twitter.) Following the release of Absentia, Flanagan has remained loyal to the horror genre, writing and directing the haunted mirror flick Oculus, the criminally underseen sequel, Ouija: Origin Of Evil, the similarly criminally underseen horror fairy tale, Before I Wake, and Netflix originals Hush and the Stephen King adaptation Gerald’s Game. Flanagan has yet to make a horror film that’s not been at the very least engaging, with nearly all of them being frightening in some manner, and in different ways. (Ouija: Origin Of Evil is legitimately spooky, and if you’ve been ignoring it because the first Ouija is so terrible, I don't blame you, but please rectify that immediately.)

Though Flanagan is still early on in his career, I’m tempted to call The Haunting of Hill House his masterpiece. While it heavily revises the source 1959 novel of the same name by Shirley Jackson, which was previously adapted for 1963's moody classic The Haunting and 1998's overblown update of the same name, all the characters from the novel appear in the new take, though rewritten to be members of the same family (one of them named after the novelist herself). Instead of a group of volunteers gathering in the infamous Hill house to take part in a study on the paranormal, those volunteers are now siblings growing up under the guidance of their romantic, dreamy parents (Henry Thomas and Carla Gugino), who have somehow turned the concept of flipping houses into an admirable, artistic act. Hill house is just their latest endeavor, and a huge financial risk, but if all goes well with the restoration, it will be the last house they ever flip, and they can finally build their own “forever home” to live out the rest of their days. Soon, the ghosts of the house begin to victimize them all, especially setting their sights on the emotionally unwell Olivia (Gugino), pushing her to a mental breaking point and permanently altering the family dynamic.

Spread out over ten, approximately one-hour episodes (several of those appearing as extended director’s cuts exclusively on the new Blu-ray release), The Haunting of Hill House is a magnificent piece of filmmaking—one intent on positioning horror and human emotion side by side, in the same way the Crain family lives side by side with the varied ghosts of Hill house. The series is honest about many human issues, some of them taboo topics trapped in the constant debate of everyday news cycles—chief among them, depression and mental illness. Because of this, The Haunting of Hill House is a brutal gut punch in many ways, and one of the Crain siblings, Steven (Michiel Huisman, Game of Thrones), lays out in one of the opening scenes what a ghost actually is: “A memory, a daydream, a secret. Grief, anger, guilt. But, in my experience, most times they're just what we want to see. Most times, a ghost is a wish.” That right there is the foundation on which The Haunting of Hill House has been erected. Along with the typical, spooky-faced specters, all of those things—grief, anger, guilt—bleed through every episode, haunting our characters in different, meaningful ways. (Each of the characters also represent the different stages of the grieving process, and their specific episodes appear in that same order.) Though Flanagan has drastically changed Jackson’s story structure, he remains firmly true to the intent of her novel. The haunted house exists in the background, but the story itself is about Nell (Victoria Pedretti), her unhappiness, her inability to fit in, and that being surrounded by people who don’t understand her, and who dismiss her struggles and feelings of isolation, leads to her ruin. This is the crux of the show, so it’s no surprise that the siblings’ relationships to each other serve as the emotional center; the back-and-forth timeline technique juxtaposes their child and adult counterparts, and the prologue scenes will break your heart once you begin to suspect how badly things will go for the Crain family.

In many ways, The Haunting of Hill House is a Rorschach test. If you’re in it solely for the horror, you won’t be disappointed; there are numerous moments that will give you serious, earned chills, and you’ll have fun trying to spot all the background ghosts hidden throughout the show (there are a lot). Meanwhile, if you’re more interested in the drama, you’ll get that too, and if you truly invest in the characters and manage to relate to any one of them, you’ll find yourself in tears. And if you want both, I can’t think of a single piece of genre filmmaking in recent memory that’s gone anywhere as close to offering and achieving those combined sensibilities. You will bring out of The Haunting of Hill House exactly what you put into it—like the mysterious Red Room itself. 

It’s a bold claim, but for my money, The Haunting of Hill House is the best thing Netflix has ever done (I’ll certainly say that “Two Storms” is one of the greatest episodes of any television show—ever), and it’s touched many of its viewers in different ways. For as long as I’ve delved into films and television as a means for exploring artistic expression, I’ve been hearing people say, “Such and such changed my life,” and for years I wrote that off as a clichéd, bullshit expression that didn’t mean anything—a haughtier but equally vague way of saying something was “amazing.” Following my now multiple viewings of The Haunting of Hill House, I finally understand what those people were saying. Its many themes about life, its ruminations on death, and the way it presents real struggles of people both ordinary and extraordinary have resonated with me in a profound way, and I can honestly say The Haunting of Hill House has changed my life. 

Thankfully, Flanagan has found a nice and comfy home at Netflix headquarters, with all kinds of upcoming projects in the pipeline, chief among them The Haunting of Bly Manor, a spiritual sequel to The Haunting of Hill House, based on the novella The Turn of the Screw by Henry James—another tale of children growing up in a haunted house. Here's hoping their collaboration continues long into the future, because based on what we've seen so far, the end result is always smart, honest, and emotional horror. We could use more of that.

[Reprinted from Daily Grindhouse.]

REVIEW: ABSENTIA

Absentia is a cool little movie. The story is unique, the acting is genuine, but the best part? Abundant creep. The budget was obviously small, but for such a contained story, a large one would only have been a hindrance. I love movies like this—movies that come out of nowhere and land with a soft thud on video, usually courtesy of a home video label whose other acquisitions are tepid at best. It’s a selfish thought on my part that movies like these usually suffer such horrid company, but for people like me, it only serves as a welcome surprise. (The reason I mention this: a preview for a film called Forget Me Not was in front of Asbentia, and one I eventually sought. For a film which probably had three times the budget as Absentia, it was laughably bad—a hodgepodge of all the “cool shit” from better horror films haphazardly mixed together in a silly mindless mess. It was a perfect example of movies that belong in the realm of direct-to-video. Absentia does not.)

Callie (Katie Parker), during what sounds like a cross-country tour, stops in on her sister, Tricia (Courtney Bell). Tricia is very far along in her pregnancy, but who the father is remains a secret from both the audience and Callie as well. Several years ago, Tricia’s husband Daniel mysteriously disappeared one day. No sign of him had ever been found, nor had he ever reached out to contact his wife. Tricia has now decided to declare Daniel “dead in absentia,” and Callie has stopped in to help her sister with the process. Tricia seems genuinely okay with it until she begins making preparations to move out of the home she once shared with Daniel. Then she starts spotting him—his face pure white and his eyes and mouth dark, black holes. And not just in her nightmares, but in her waking life where he does not belong—in the darkness of her living room, or crouched in a coat closet.

Callie, meanwhile has experienced odd occurrences on her own, mainly during her daily jogs through the city…and through the creepy tunnel directly across the street from Tricia’s home. There she finds a derelict man (genre regular Doug Jones), his body bent and twisted, his clothes bloody and torn. Callie, meaning well, leaves some food for who she assumes to be a homeless man. With what she thought was only an act of kindness, she has no idea what she has set in motion.

All during this, Detective Mallory (Dave Levine), who has been investigating a rash of missing people (including Daniel), seems to have a closer relationship with Tricia than your usual detective and civilian do. His love for Trivia and his job as a cop causes his alpha male tendencies to kick in once shit really hits the fan…especially after it’s discovered that Callie’s past drug habits aren’t so past as she says. And her claims of things skittering around the floors and in the walls sound like nothing more than the ravings of a needle user.

Absentia’s plot is very unique—one whose effectiveness will be determined by the audience’s willingness to think outside the box. There is no clear-cut villain in the film, and most of the questions you will have will not be answered. Despite this, the movie is deeply satisfying—in fact it’s one of the most satisfying I can recall whose own motivations are barely explained.

Each and every sighting of Daniel’s apparition is effectively eerie, and director Mike Flanagan definitely understands the “less is more” technique. No previous knowledge of the movie’s plot will have the viewer trying to guess just where the hell the movie’s story is going. What seems like your basic ghost/haunting movie devolves into something far more unique and unusual.

As previously mentioned, the acting is genuine, and even better, the actors look like real, believable people. 

The direction is quite assured. I would personally love to see what Flanagan can do with a high concept/high budget genre film.

But what is the movie really about? Addiction? Mourning? Resigning yourself to a life you hadn’t planned for? Trying to overcome the notion that instead of embracing this new life, you’re trying to make do with it?

Check out Absentia and find out for yourself.