The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

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I try not to cross over into TV as much, with these reviews. It's hard, really, to review multiple-hour epics in a single go. But every once and a while I feel compelled to share my thoughts, and write about a TV series or show that struck me as incredible. Or I did feel compelled, when I was posting these reviews on my Facebook page.

I haven't written a TV show review on this blog.

Until today.

I sat down to watch The Haunting of Hill House (2018) two weekends ago, because the wife was out of town, and I knew she wouldn't mind missing it. I binged it across two days, having found that, once I started, I was compelled toward the end. I have reviewed other Mike Flanagan Joints on this blog, and have found him to be one of the brightest stars in the new horror scene.

Mike Flanagan makes horror with a keen eye on the psychological. The ghosts are real, yes, but so is the trauma they inflict. So is the echoing damage that reverberates throughout a person's life. He also pays close attention to relationships, particularly familial ones.

I didn't think much of his adaptation of Hill House when I first heard of it. But, as my October Playlist raged on, my appreciation of his work grew by leaps and bounds. And then, I knew I HAD to watch this one.

And, after I watched it the first time, I knew I HAD to make my wife sit down and watch it, too.

And, after I watched it a second time, I knew I HAD to write a review of it.

Summary:

The Crain family is haunted. They spent a summer, together, in the most haunted house in America, and the events of that summer shattered their family, and echoed out into their lives. And now, the house is calling them back, to finish what it started. To eat them; to digest them; to wake them from their nightmares and cradle them forever.

Pros:

A Story About Trauma: Scary movies mean nothing, if there are no stakes. Mike Flanagan, who created, co-wrote, and directed The Haunting of Hill House, understands this. His stories are about trauma, and how trauma affects families. How it continues to affect people long after it happened. Yes, there are ghosts and malevolent spirits, but the Crain family is as haunted by their own failings and flaws as any creeping revenant. Luke (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) battles addiction. Nell (Victoria Pedretti) battles depression. Theo (Kate Siegel) refuses to allow herself any real intimacy. Shirley (Elizabeth Reaser) desperately needs to paint over and rebrand the awful in her life. Steve (Michael Huisman) refuses to see what's in front of him and plays the jaded cynic at every turn. Family patriarch, Hugh (Timothy Hutton) was once a fixer, but could never put the pieces of his family back together, and it ruined him. The Crains are all builders, or mostly are, anyway: Hugh and Liv flip houses, Steve writes stories, Shirley beautifies death, Theo is a psychologist. The only two Crain siblings who DON'T build, are the ones that suffer the hardest. Because they can't build. Nell is a dependent, and Luke is an addict. They struggle to make something of their lives, but are trapped in their inability to create. It's all beautiful and ugly and complex. In many ways the house lets the Crains escape that fateful Summer night because it knows they will marinade in grief and loss and brokenness for years, before returning. A better meal for the intervening years of hardship.

Wonderful Performances: The casting directors on this movie (Tara Feldstein, Anna McCarthy, Chase Paris, and Kellie Roy) earned every damn penny they were paid. The child actors and younger versions of their parents are all the spitting image of their older counterparts. Everyone looks like they are a believable family. And everyone can act. Carla Gugino has been having an excellent run lately, and plays the warmth of motherhood and the dangerous overzealous protector in equal measure. Timothy Hutton is a quiet powerhouse: his Puffalope story is beautiful and affecting. Jackson-Cohen wrings every drop of pathos out of his eulogy. Pedretti knocks Nell's final monologue out of the park: I was nearly in tears. The entire cast comes to play, and really brings you into the world that Flanagan has built.

The Little Things: The little things, in this movie, are wonderful. Firstly, there are ghosts everywhere. No, really: Under staircases, reflected in mirrors, casting shadows in the background, just out of sight and out of focus. Mike Flanagan packs Hill House with creepy little rewards for observant viewers. Then there's the constantly flickering lights: mother calling her kids home. My favorite is the way that the house, at night, sheds mist, like it is a breathing body. And, without spoiling it, the Red Room is fun, and Flanagan finds clever ways to set it up and pay it off throughout the course of the series. As someone who regularly predicts major plot twists, it was nice to be had.

S01E06: "Two Storms": This is one of the best episodes of television ever made. Period. It is a staggering technical feat. The episode is constructed of five continuous single-take shots: each around 15 minutes long. The camera moves, and the sets blur together, and time bends. There are times where I get lost in a story, and am left gobsmacked at its end: "Two Storms" left me mouth-agape on my couch after I watched it the first time. The scares are wonderfully timed, the performances are pitch-perfect, and everything swirls together like a wonderfully made cake. Apparently it took six weeks to choreograph and prepare for, and the end-result is absolutely worth it.

Singular Vision: Flanagan doesn't so much make movies, as he constructs beautiful visual novels. The Haunting of Hill House is at once a family epic, a haunted house story, and a rumination on grief. Along with cinematographer, and frequent collaborator, Michael Fimognari, Flanagan crafts a beautiful ten-chapter televisual storybook. Shots are meticulously composed. The colors pop (the Crain family loves their blues and pinks). The house feels like a real, menacing, beautiful place. Flanagan never feels shackled by the horror genre: he uses it as a filter to enhance the story behind the  scares. Could he have made a straight-forward, moderately spooky ghost story? Sure. But he didn't do that. He swung for the fences. He fleshes out his characters with side stories, complex relationships, and real character arcs. That he created this show, co-wrote it, and directed all ten episodes is a Herculean feat of filmmaking. I stand in awe of it. It is surely his opus.

Nuanced Haunting: Yes, the ghost that grabs ahold of Olivia is malevolent, but not every spirit that walks Hill House's halls is evil. I liked that Flanagan presents the house not as a black-and-white evil, but a necessary shades-of-grey complexity. One character tells Hugh, "not everything in this house belongs to you," right before Hugh decides to destroy the house. Just destroying it is a decidedly complicated action. The ending of the show is bittersweet and insidious, hopeful and deeply depressing. I enjoy being challenged like that. Is this the right end? Are these decisions correct? They are all believably made by the characters that make them, but Flanagan refuses to tell you how to feel about it all.

Cons:

This is Not the Novel: Shirley Jackson's 1953 novel, The Haunting of Hill House, is a towering achievement, and a bedrock of the horror lit canon. This show, though? This show is NOT an adaptation of that book. The show remixes and reuses elements from that book, but the story and the characters are different enough that I would consider these completely different works. That is not, by itself, a bad thing. I'd read Jackson's novel when I was younger, and I remember it being good, but I was lucky enough to only have vague memories of the book's plot when I sat down to watch Flanagan's show. I was able to appreciate Flanagan's show for exactly what it was, and not what I thought or expected it to be. Others have noted, with much regret and consternation, that this is NOT an adaptation of the book. So, if you are a fan of the original novel, check your expectations at the door and realize that you are watching, largely, a completely different piece of art.

Poor Aunt Janet: Janet is the one character that gets short shrift, here. I understand that she isn't a focus of the story, and that Flanagan had only enough time to really sell the important parts, but it does feel like a glaring omission not to show us more of the woman who raised the Crain children. Her acrimony with Hugh is hinted at, when they meet at the funeral, but we never see any more of her, and we only ever hear her mentioned in stories. Poor Janet: you deserved better.

In Conclusion:

Mike Flanagan is a national treasure. His genre films are smartly made. I have kind of watched his entire career, now, with one notable exception (Ouija: Origin of Evil [2016]). The Haunting of Hill House is a towering achievement, and may be his best, most sure-handed work to-date.

Should You Watch It?

Yes. It is a scary show, but it is also emotionally affecting, heart-warming (and rending), and wonderfully complex. In short, it transcends the simple pleasures of most horror offerings, while, at the same time, offering and relishing many of those delights.

Miscellany:

- Actor Russ Tamblyn plays Dr. Montague in the series. He also played Luke in the 1963 adaptation, The Haunting.
- In the first episode, the Lasser Glass, of Oculus fame, can be seen hanging in Hill House. There are even pictures of blue butterflies, which are a reference to Flanagan's other Netflix film, Before I Wake. FLANAGAN SHARED UNIVERSE! 
- The character, Shirley, is named after the author of the book, Shirley Jackson. Steve is named after Steven Spielberg.
- A young Theo can be seen reading The Lottery, another story by Shirley Jackson.