The House of the Devil
There was a time when horror films did not display any of the now overplayed and downright annoying self-reference first brought to light by the Scream series. A time when a bump in the night, a creak in the wooden floor, an errant shadow was looked upon and treated formula-free to instill genuine terror in those who watched such movies. However, with movies like Scream and knockoffs like Scary Movie, everyone became aware of the tried-and-true horror clichés that we all knew of but never felt the need to verbalize because in doing so, we’d lose focus on the actual story and instead follow our mental checklists.
Thankfully, director Ti West remembers those now carefree days with his latest movie, The House of the Devil, released courtesy of Magnet Releasing. From the bad wardrobe, clunky first-wave Walkman (those of us who grew up with them surely will look upon it with nostalgia then thank God for our iPods), and groovy soundtrack, West firmly establishes the look and general atmosphere of those late 70’s/early 80’s horror gems by now-legends like Wes Craven, Tobe Hooper, John Carpenter, etc. These directors , who relied more upon suggestion and kept the gore to a more concentrated minimum, clearly must have been an influence on West while still allowing the young man to craft his own tale.
Long story short, Sam (Jocelin Donahue) is a college sophomore attending a small university out east and is looking for a new place to live. After finding the perfect little apartment for herself to escape her slovenly dorm roommate, Sam is hard up for the first month’s rent in order to secure the place. She has the weekend in order to do so, coinciding with a rare lunar eclipse occurring at the same time. Without cash or options, she takes a babysitting job for new residents Mr. and Mrs. Ulman (cult actors Tom Noonan and Mary Woronov), despite their eccentric nature and weird requests. However, despite her own intuition and the advice of best friend Megan (Greta Gerwig) she accepts the job. What could go wrong in just four hours?
After the somewhat lengthy setup, the film then moves into the bulk of its chilliness, hearkening back to thrillers like When A Stranger Calls where there are no seat-jumping scares but rather an accumulation of details that subtly ramps up the tension. West employs a series of long shots, POVs, and inserts to draw attention to every shadowy nook and cranny in the old home, floorboard creaks register, every turn of the knob is highlighted so as to make one fear what’s behind the door. West places us perfectly in Sam’s shoes as she explores this weird, old house waiting out the hours until she can leave but realizing things definitely are not what they seem. As she continues exploring, small clues are revealed as to the couple’s true purpose from the phony pizza shop line leading to a delivery from who we learn to be their adult son, to the fate of the home’s previous owners.
All along we suspect that these people are not kosher so for us it’s not a matter of if these people are bad but what do they have planned for Sam. What makes it even harder to watch is that the most important reveals are made not to Sam directly, only to the viewer thus following Hitchcock’s recipe for suspense where the threat is revealed to the audience but not the victim thus creating a vested interest for his or her survival. The final reveal itself is a bit disappointing in that it fails to live up to much of the tension built up to it and leaves some questions unanswered. However, the threat of violence is finally delivered upon and it comes hard and fast, both grisly and believable. For torture porn addicts, the bloodletting may not rise to Jigsaw standards but is appropriate for this type of homage and is far more credible than a face being ripped apart in a reverse bear trap. Suffice it to say old standbys like Satanic cults and blood rituals are involved and leave it at that, reminds me of those good old 70’s flicks when Satanism was your solid, go-to villain.
While West’s visual style and clear understanding of the genre’s tropes makes for a believable tribute, House would fall flat on its face without the nuanced performances of its actors. First and foremost, Donahue plays her role perfectly without any irony whatsoever and that is key. Her character’s look and manner is reminiscent of other earlier scream queens like Jamie Lee Curtis or Margot Kidder ala Sisters. In addition, the inclusion of both Noonan and Woronov, who bring with them so much weight from their previous work lend a unsettling creepiness to their performances. Neither one has many lines to work with but each one, especially Noonan, is able to augment their words with subtle body language and expressions that create believable unease. Noonan’s pregnant pauses and halting speech would fit perfectly in a Pinter play. When all is said and done, both director and cast have delivered an atmospheric, period-perfect, homage to an era of filmmaking in which terror of the mind still held more leverage than the splatter fests we’re accustomed to now. It will not be for everyone but The House of the Devil is an old-school horror pleasure that, as time passes, will become indistinguishable from the classics it borrows from subtly.
For more information on this title, go to www.magpictures.com