Mike Flanagan conjures up some of his most frightening, emotional work to date in his gothic haunted house series for Netflix!
“A ghost can be a lot of things…”
Horror can get so preoccupied with the immediacy of a family in danger, but what about the scar tissue that lasts afterward? What about the nightmares that linger after the serial killer has been locked up or the demon is banished back to hell? There are countless horror films that get plenty of mileage from watching a family fight for their lives, but there’s arguably a richer story to be told in what follows. Not only is this messy aftermath the focus in Netflix’s The Haunting of Hill House, but it wants to thoroughly prove that grief and loss are much more frightening than the threat of death. What’s harder is to live.
Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel, The Haunting of Hill House, is widely considered to be one the greatest haunted house novels of all time, so this story comes with steep baggage and expectations. Mike Flanagan doesn’t stray far from Jackson’s source material, but he also distinctly makes this horror saga his own in a very chilling way.
There’s a very solid premise that’s in place, but even if this idea was terrible, the prospect of Mike Flanagan directing all ten episodes of a haunted house horror series is too good to be true. It seems like some sort of deal that the Devil has brokered to gain unsuspecting souls, and whether the Antichrist is involved with Netflix’s development strategies or not, this is some of the most exciting, innovative horror programming to ever come along on television. It’s easily Netflix’s cursed crown jewel in the genre.
The Haunting of Hill House looks at the Crain family, who in their youth, grew up in what has since become one of the most infamous haunted houses in America. Now in their adult years, the Crain siblings must confront the ghosts of their past, both figuratively and literally. The Crain family is far from perfect and all of the many psychological horrors that used to be secluded to their childhood begin to come back and trigger all sorts of dangerous behavior.
What’s different about this is that The Haunting of Hill House dresses itself up a ghost story, but it’s also a really thoughtful meditation on grief, death, and how these emotions can paralyze a family through generations.
One of the strongest aspects of this series—and the show arguably wouldn’t work at all if this dimension didn’t click—is how much Steven, Shirley, Theodora, Nell, and Luke all feel like siblings. They all share a deep connection to the horrors of Hill House that simultaneously reawakens in all of them, but it’s more than that. The bonds that they share, even the strained ones, feel genuine and the chemistry between everyone really works. At times the Crains feel like a more dysfunctional, morose version of the Fishers, from Six Feet Under, which is far from a bad thing. They all are flawed and weak in different ways, but the brunt of responsibility typically falls on Michiel Huisman’s Steven. Everyone is so lost in their grief that they can’t even tell that they’re being haunted.
It’s equally exciting to watch the grown versions of these siblings deal with this generational horror from a completely new vantage point than when it plagued them in their youth. This also highlights the distinct way that both children and adults grieve and deal with fear. For instance, The Haunting of Hill House masterfully illustrates this with the use of a basement and a loud storm. The creepy area terrifies kids in the way that dark basements and loud noises always do, but then a much more probing scene examines an adult’s fear down there for entirely different, heavier reasons. It’s comparative scenes like this that are why The Haunting of Hill House works as well as it does. The Haunting of Hill House also effectively juxtaposes the Crains’ creepy past with their creepy present and how even though decades have passed, you can still be the same person that you were as a child. For what it’s worth, all of the child versions of the Crain siblings do incredible work here. There are some exceptional young actors in this series.
On that note, the fact that the cast is so damn good here is really essential. Everyone delivers such a memorable performance in a way that really makes you not want to see anyone meet their ends. However, this seems like a fairly futile gesture in a series of this nature. You truly care and give a damn about these people and it makes the fates of these characters resonate so much by the end of the series. You can become much more invested in characters over the course of ten hours as opposed to a 100-minute film and Flanagan doesn’t waste that opportunity. You thoroughly get to dig into each of these character’s brains and understand what makes them tick. Flanagan operates with a certain fearlessness when it comes to their fates. The series also makes the titular Hill House feel like a character in and of itself (there’s even a monologue that explains how much a house is like the human body). Flanagan has shots linger on its architecture and explore through the halls in an effort to display every inch of this special place.
It’s such a spooky, gothic delight.
The Haunting of Hill House starts off slow, but not in a meandering, padded way. This methodical pace is to properly let the horrors of this house overwhelm the audience and sneak up on you. You don’t even realize by the time that it attacks in full force. Additionally, it takes a very long time for the Crains to return to Hill House, but this is a testament to the power and restraint in this storytelling. It properly lets the events of the past set in before it builds new fear in the present. The story’s narrative jumps all over in time, which helps the audience get lost in these characters’ pasts just as it pulls them back under and consumes them. It’s definitely the most complex story with the most moving parts that Flanagan has set out to tell so far.
Each episode finds a story that resonates in both the past and the present, which works well as a structural device. The series also frequently re-frames old events through different characters to convey the full scope of what’s going on with this family. Every new installment finds a way to peel back more layers of the Crains and it’s really impressive how the season’s narrative slowly weaves together. There’s an impeccably-staged episode in the middle of the season that’s set in a funeral parlor and almost feels more like a piece of theater than television. It might be one of the best episodes of television that I’ve seen all year.
Flanagan lets this homecoming story take its time. Shots aren’t rushed and these characters get to breathe and develop rather than this turning into a relentless attack of horror. This ultimately makes the scares hit harder because you actually get to know and empathize with these characters. That being said, even the first episode contains some big frights and towards the end of the season it’s an all-out assault that earns this degree of mayhem. The show also knows how to properly misdirect the audience and subvert many typical scares. It plays with the idea of how savvy audiences have gotten with haunted house stories.
The Haunting of Hill House taps into the trippy nature of Flanagan’s Oculus and Ouija: Origin of Evil, but pairs this with the domestic, personal horror of his other works like Hush and Gerald’s Game. In many ways, this feels like a Greatest Hits of Flanagan’s filmography, but it thankfully is much more than that. To the series’ credit, none of these scares are manipulative or gratuitous, but all rooted in the personal trauma of these characters. Each of these monsters has a real-life correlation, which makes this story that much more powerful rather than just some “random” haunted house.
The Haunting of Hill House embraces the idea that horror isn’t always something that you scream at and that it can be something that quietly paralyzes you. There are some really unnerving, unexpected visuals that will get under your skin (The Bent Neck Lady is perfect nightmare fuel). There are both frightening things that are realistic, like a wasp’s nest that resembles an old person’s face, but then also visions of death that strike much deeper. There’s a constant sense of anxiety that gradually builds as the series goes on and these people get closer to the center of Hill House. Flanagan knows how to build an effective mystery over the course of these ten episodes, but also manages to stick the landing. The answers don’t disappoint and they’re just as satisfying as the journey to get to them.
Furthermore, if Flanagan can gracefully tell a long, generation-spanning horror epic like this, there’s no reason why he couldn’t do amazing things with Stephen King’s The Stand in the same context. Everyone already knew that Flanagan was a masterful horror director, but The Haunting of Hill House acts as firm proof that he can handle something massively longer and still come out on top.
The Haunting of Hill House is a staggering piece of work that demonstrates everyone at the top of their game. The series may take too long to get going for some and weave too twisty of a narrative for others, but those that are patient will experience something that’s rare for television to achieve. The Haunting of Hill House ranks up there with Flanagan’s best work and it very much deserves to be your Halloween obsession this year.
This review is based on all ten hour-long episodes of “The Haunting of Hill House”, which will arrive on Netflix October 12th.
