The Haunting

Directed by: Jan de Bont

Written by: David Self (screenplay); Shirley Jackson (novel)










Going back down memory lane in my attempt to bring myself back to writing about film regularly, I found The Haunting available for streaming and realized that this would be a great place to continue.

The Haunting stands as one of the first "scary" movies I saw in the theater. Before watching it again, though, I was struggling to remember what exactly the movie was about. I vaguely remembered something about a scientist and a massive house, but nothing stood out about what exactly was at the core of the story. I also recalled the movie not being terribly scary. Still, it was a milestone movie in my personal history.

Watching it again, it was obvious to me why I didn't think it was very scary; it wasn't. But what I missed in my youthful hope for jump-moments and scares was how incredibly creepy the movie feels. The house is physically imposing and menacing. The layout of the rooms is confusing and maze-like, mildly echoing the Overlook hotel of The Shining in this way. The ornate carvings and statues are disquieting, at least in part because some of them don't seem to belong together. In one room there are barbed spikes decorating a bed's headboard and spiderweb-like glass windows,  but also cherubic children's faces around the fireplace. (Also, did the expressions of the children's faces change between shots? Early on, it's hard to tell, which adds to the sense dis-ease.)

Aside from Lili Taylor, most of the acting is screen chewing. (Or, maybe that's just the way Owen Wilson really is?) Liam Neeson is especially guilty of this in this movie, never feeling like he's doing anything beyond reading lines in a corny horror movie. At no point does the audience have any reason to accept him as a scientist of any kind, much less the kind that could pull off setting up an experiment of the type we're supposed to accept as the opening premise. (This accusation may be more indicative of the flaws in the script rather than his acting.)

The story itself works just fine, but drags itself down with a few too many unnecessary twists and turns. Some of these twists work within the confines of the story, but others are awkwardly forced and contrived, merely serving as pretext to the next twist. Although Lili Taylor's character adds to the story significantly (she's the crux of one of the major turns in the story), the other characters fall back into filler material with little or no distinguishing personality. For long stretches of the movie, Catherine Zeta-Jones seems merely there to give Lili Taylor someone to have dialogue with about the creepy house. Usually having too many characters becomes a flaw in a movie like this, as most of them never develop beyond a vague outline of a human being, but in this film a few more distinct personalities could have helped.

What this movie lacks in script and acting and gore (at least, for a horror movie), it makes up for in the outstanding eerie ambiance. The dark beauty of the house gives chills and discomfort. Other haunted house movies should take note of how well this film reaches the goal of making the house feel haunted just by its mere existence.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Written by: Shirley Jackson












This book, perhaps fittingly, had lurked around my life for a while before I finally had the drive to read it.  I'd come across an essay about it, and been intrigued even though I had lacked understanding of the  references.  A colleague referenced another Shirley Jackson work ("The Lottery" - perhaps her most famous).  Finally, for some strange reason, my wife picked up the book and read the whole thing in one night and spent the next month telling me I should read it.  I second her recommendation.

Jackson weaves together a beautiful, but dark and complex story, focusing mainly on the disintegrating Blackwood family.  At first, we find that the locals in their small town have ostracized the family after an unnamed event.  As the story unfolds, the truth becomes more murky and muddled until the arrival of a long-lost cousin catalyzes a major change and, finally, the truth is revealed.

What's amazing is how well-crafted this book is.  (And I know that's cliche, but I can't think of a better way of saying it.)  Upon reflection, most of the plot is both crucial and negligible.  What is most memorable, though, is the cast of characters.  Mary Katherine Blackwood is completely unforgettable (and to say much more would rob you of the joy of meeting her yourself).  Her sister Constance should rank in the pantheon of American mythology (with the Jay Gatsby and Quentin Compson types).  And, when all is revealed, the tragedy of Uncle Julian's madness is made complete.

The word "gothic" is thrown around a lot to describe books which don't fit into the polite category of fiction, but this is not the case with "We Have Always Lived in the Castle."  Jackson's novel should be hailed as the archetype of gothic American writing.  But, beyond that, it should be honored as an American classic.