Based upon The Haunting Of Hill House by Shirley Jackson
Created and Directed by Mike Flanagan
10 Episodes
Released October 12, 2018
Many years ago, I found myself involved in a very funny yet quite provocative conversation with a roomful of school aged children and my co-teacher at the time. The conversation delved into monsters and the supernatural as the children asked my co-teacher if she was afraid of anything. She thought for a moment and soon answered without even a modicum of humor, "Zombies."
Perplexed, I gently questioned, "Zombies?"
"The fast ones," she clarified. "Not the really slow ones," she said, again revealed without any stitch of humor.
"Do you believe in ghosts?" one of the children asked her.
"No, not at all," she replied.
"How about you, Scott?" one of the children asked of me. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
I found myself actually having to think seriously about that question for a moment before answering, "I don't think so...but...I don't like to rule anything out."
The reason behind this particular preamble will become clearer by the conclusion of this posting and I believe that it will arrive surrounded by a greater seriousness than the tenor of this opening. For any of you who have ever been regular visitors to this site, and to the wholly uninitiated, please allow me to divulge my feeling concerning the horror genre in film. It is a genre that I tend to give a wide berth as it is a one that I typically find unenjoyable, from its rampant, repugnant sexism to its equally rampant, repugnant gore both of which revel in a certain sadistic cruelty that firmly runs against my sensibilities. Yes, indeed there are quite a number of horror films that I have seen, enjoyed and have even loved. That being said, I keep my distance as the sensation of willingly placing myself into a state of fear is not a form of entertainment in which I take pleasure.
And yet, and as I have alluded, there are always exceptions.
Entirely based upon an exuberant recommendation, I took the plunge into the Netflix series "The Haunting Of Hill House," based upon the novel by Shirley Jackson and created and directed in its entirety by Mike Flanagan, who seriously impressed me with the intoxicating, somnambulant dread of "Doctor Sleep" (2019), his adaptation of the Stephen King novel and serves as a direct sequel to, of all things, Stanley Kubrick's "The Shining" (1980), itself widely regarded as one of the greatest horror films ever made, an assessment to which I firmly agree.
Seeing as I do keep my distance from the horror genre, I honestly had no idea of the existence of this series, let alone it pedigree. I simply dove in due to my friend's recommendation and nothing more, for what else would I have really needed? I watched the entire series in less than one week. What resulted for me was an experience in which the horror genre had been unquestionably and simultaneously revitalized, upended and even transcended, while upholding the aesthetics of the genre faithfully.
As with my previous written tributes to the television series "Lost," "Freaks And Geeks," and "Breaking Bad," I am compelled to write this new tribute as Mike Flanagan's "The Haunting Of Hill House" is superlative television, scaling heights that uniformly surpass the qualities of many feature films, and definitely much of what makes up the horror genre. Flanagan has delivered a tale of pulpy, gothic horror with such high intelligence and elegance that is also stirringly and undeniably terrifying, as it is filled end to end within its 10 episodes with unforgettable sequences and images that burrow directly into your psyche and touch some extremely primal nerve endings. Yet, as genuinely disturbing as it is, what truly elevated the series for me was its strict adherence to the overall humanity of the story and the characters who populate it and in doing so, I found myself profoundly moved over and again and so beautifully by the series' aching conclusion.
If you are like me and are very late to this particular party, as well as being just in time for Halloween, I more than enthusiastically urge you to do just as I did. Dive right in and undertake a superlative journey into the beautifully threatening darkened hallways, corners and forbidden rooms of "The Haunting Of Hill House."
Mike Flanagan's "The Haunting Of Hill House" weaves a darkly lustrous and non-linear tale set within two timelines both centered on the members of the Crain family.
In 1992, we meet Hugh and Olivia Crain (played by Henry Thomas and Carla Gugino) and their five children; the oldest, Steven (Paxton Singleton), Shirley (Lulu Wilson), Theodora a.k.a. Theo (McKenna Grace) and the youngest, twins Luke (Julian Hilliard) and Nell (Violet McGraw), as they move into the Hill House mansion with the intent of renovating and re-selling, utilizing the profits to fund the creation of their own dream home, designed by Olivia.
While only planning to reside and renovate Hill House for the duration of one summer, plans go awry when the family is confronted with a series of unexpected and continuous repairs by day and increasingly malevolent forces every night, from the proverbial bumps in the night to further manifestations, most notably, the horrifying presence of The Bent Neck Lady, who has seemingly targeted Nell. And finally, there is the mysterious presence of the Red Room, the one area in the mansion for which there is no key or any way of gaining entrance.
The mounting terror within Hill House reaches its terrifying zenith on one fateful night when tragedy hits the Crain family, forcing the to escape from the mansion.
Flash forward to 2018 as the Crain family has become fractured. Against the wishes of his siblings Steven (now played by Michiel Huisman) has become a famous author as he has capitalized upon his family's tragedy. Shirley (Elizabeth Reaser) is now a Mother to two small children and owns a mortuary alongside her husband Kevin (Anthony Ruivivar). Theo (Kate Siegel) is a child psychologist who lives in Shirley's guest house and constantly wears gloves in order to temper the psychic awareness that occurs when she touches other people. Luke (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) has become a drug addict and Nell (Victoria Pedretti), never having shaken the events of her time in Hill House, is still traumatized by vivid night terrors and sleep paralysis, which are gradually spilling over into her waking life. As for patriarch Hugh (Timothy Hutton), he is all but estranged from his children, who all still blame him for the family tragedy.
When tragedy strikes for the second time, the Crain family is forced to reunite to face down the collective traumas of their pasts that are now playing out in their current lives, threatening to overtake them completely.
Without hyperbole, it must be stated right up front that Mike Flanagan's "The Haunting Of Hill House" is nothing short of tremendous. Exquisitely written, acted and directed, the series is a showcase for the high bar that can be reached within the framework of cinematic storytelling when all of the elements are symbiotic and everyone is working at the peak of their respective powers. The writing from Flanagan and his staff is impeccable, taking what could have easily existed as a collection of haunted house tropes, well worn clichés, and interchangeable, paper thin characters and have completely circumvented every conceivable conceptual pitfall by intricately interlacing a multilayered storyline and a tapestry of history for the characters themselves.
Yes, the series is based upon a novel but I was overjoyed with how that novelistic approach was conducted in order to ensure the series contained a greater relevance that just being scary. There is a musicality and poetry to the actual writing, from the various monologues certainly, but primarily from distinct lines and themes that repeat and therefore, work as echoes to each other through all 10 episodes. In this way, the series is very reminiscent of Stephen King's The Shining (1977) and especially, It (1986), a novel, which for me, felt to be a work about history and the nature of storytelling, while fueling the story of traumatized children returning to face down their demons as adults. Flanagan allows his series to veer in a series of directions via its non-linear narrative, flowing seamlessly from past to present, from character backstories to present day PTSD, all the while finding those gossamer threads that ensure every moment is essential to the entirety. And in doing so, not even one moment is wasted or remotely superfluous.
As previously stated, I remarked about the symbiotic nature of the writing, direction and performances. Flanagan who directed all 10 episodes, has cemented a signature rhythm, tone, atmosphere and flow to the proceedings, that may not have been as effective if the series has been helmed by a revolving directing team. The series does house an extremely complex narrative structure, so consistency is key while also allowing that signature guiding hand the freedom with playing with the visual storytelling when necessary.
Flanagan's style often reminded me of existing as somewhat of a hybrid between Stanley Kubrick, M. Night Shyamalan and Steven Spielberg. Regarding Spielberg, I felt this comparison most notably from Flanagan's clear gift with working with his child actors and eliciting superior performances from each and every one of them. Additionally, Flanagan's visual style clearly evokes the nature of childhood fears and nightmares, via several sequences throughout when the children--most often, Luke and Nell-- are indeed being taunted, threatened and even pursued by the ghosts that exist within the labyrinthine Hill House corridors. A fateful trip while trapped inside of a dumb waiter. Fitfully hiding from the creature that floats above the floor, who signals its approach by the foreboding tap of a cane against the ground. The repeated appearances from the aforementioned Bent Neck Lady. All of these and more provide the groundwork as well as clues to the larger narrative and ultimate revelations while being genuinely frightening every single time.
Regarding Kubrick and Shyamalan, Mike Flanagan's directorial gifts are in greater evidence, especially during this period in cinematic storytelling when audiences are bombarded with all manner of CGI bombast, therefore making nuance and subtlety increasingly tools of the past. Flanagan's resplendently composed shots are often static or augmented by slowly elegant moves through the visual frame, allowing the tension, atmosphere and terrors unfold naturally. He places enough trust in the inherent drama and horror of the written material so he never has to force his hand through the aforementioned overkill of visual effects or ADD editing, bombastic music score cues and so on. Every jump scare is earned and never gratuitous. The violence is indeed gory but never descends into torture porn. And when he wishes to stretch his visual aesthetics, as in the stunning Episode 6 during which we receive several unedited long takes (the longest being a full 17 minutes), blending the past and the present even more luxuriously, it is entirely at the service of the story and characters, therefore making us feel as if we are watching live theater.
Mike Flanagan's gifts extend further and best with the team of actors, who themselves have been gifted with excellent writing and rich, three dimensional characters to portray. Like Quentin Tarantino, for instance, Flanagan feels to come from the school in which if one is to hire actors, then let them act! Give give them real characters to play, give them something to do!
The casting for this series is flawless. As far as I am concerned, if awards are ever given to Casting Directors and teams, then they should have bee been delivered to whomever cast "The Haunting Of Hill House," for this collection of actors actually looks as if they are actually related to each other! And further, they also truly appear as if they are the younger and adult versions of themselves so seamlessly. But aside from the their appearances, the performances from the full cast are sensational in their multi-layered qualities as representing the various stages of trauma, grief and familial disarray they are undertaking individually and collectively.
What a surprise and pleasure to witness both Henry Thomas and Timothy Hutton as the young and older versions of patriarch Hugh Crain! Thomas, whom I really have not seen in anything this significant since his iconic performance in Steven Spielberg's eternal "E.T.: The Extra Terrestrial" (1982), gracefully conveys a loving gravitas as the almost Spelbergian Everyman, devoted to his family, yet gradually thrust into an experience where his life and sanity are upended. Hutton, cleanly picks up the baton, so to speak and so empathetically showcases the deep, unhealed physic scars of the character. And both Thomas and Hutton, work wonders with the outstanding Carla Gugino, who portrays Olivia Crain in both timelines.
Carla Gugino is an actress I have admired for a very long time and yet, in "The Haunting Of Hill House," Mike Flanagan has given her the opportunity to allow her to swing for the fences and it is clear that she has been so hungry for this chance as she knocks every conceptual ball completely over the fences every single time. I have never seen Gugino give a performance to this degree and she matches the myriad stages of the character beat for beat, moment for moment and within every psychological stage the character experiences. Nurturing and counseling, loving and alluring, focused and disoriented, terrified and terrifying, magnetic and malevolent, hopeful and tragic. She is absolutely marvelous!!!
As the adult versions of Shirley and Theo Crain, respectively, Elizabeth Reaser and Kate Siegel are each thrilling, startling and shattering, absolutely nailing everything they are given from quick moments to epic monologues. And yet, it was both Victoria Pendretti and Oliver Jackson-Cohen as the doomed Nell and the drug addicted Luke, who so often nearly brought me to tears due to the sheer fragility of their characters.
This quality extends even further to the supporting characters as, honestly, not one of them could ever be considered as being "minor." I loved Jordane Christie who shines so brightly as Nell's sleep technologist and eventual husband as their palpable chemistry showcases precisely what a healthy romantic relationship can look like, especially when one partner is suffering. Anna Enger as Joey, Luke friend in rehab, also made for a strikingly heartfelt presence. Even further are both Annabeth Gish and Robert Longstreet as Clara and Horace Dudley, the caretakers of Hill House who refuse to venture into the building once the sun sets. Longstreet, in particular, carries his dynamic extended monologue with such an unforced, patient, deliberately paced reveal of wrenching internal pain and psychological torment, that I was brought to tears.
Note to casting agencies, as well as established and aspiring Writers and Directors, Mike Flanagan has delivered unto all of you a bounty of superb actors all ready to take on and deliver beyond any pre-conceived expectations. Yet, for you the viewer, you can partake in the depth and soulfulness allof these actors inject into these characters and the series as a whole.
Truth be told, I found myself succumbing to tears quite often throughout "The Haunting Of Hill House," especially within its final episodes and its sobering, profoundly satisfying finale. This may be an odd reaction to have in what is indeed a horror series. But, for me, it was precisely that very quality that made the series fully transcend the constraints of the horror genre, as it is ripe to exist as so much more than it actually does.
Returning to the opening of this posting, with my answer to my former students as to whether or not I believe in ghosts, after watching "The Haunting Of Hill House," I am inclined to reassess my feelings. There is a song by Pink Floyd from the album "The Final Cut" (released March 21, 1983) entitled "The Hero's Return," which features a set of lyrics that kept returning to the forefront of my mind as I watched this series. They are as follows:
"Sweetheart, sweetheart, are you fast asleep?
Good
That's the only time that I can really speak to you
There is something that I've locked away
A memory that is too painful
To withstand the light of day"
With that in mind, I think I can safely say that I do believe in ghosts. I believe that every one of us co-exists with ghosts every single day for ghosts are our memories. Ghosts are our deepest thoughts, our innermost conversations with others via ourselves. Ghosts are our regrets. Ghosts are our worries, fears, our most horrific screaming meemie nightmares. Ghosts are our pasts that formulate our collective joys and psychological baggage as well as the futures that are forever unwritten even when we feel at our staunchest that everything upcoming is a set in stone done deal. And with that, to me, ghosts are as real as life itself.
This quality is the heart and soul of Mike Flanagan's "The Haunting Of Hill House" and what makes it such a tremendous achievement as a self-contained series and within the horror genre itself. For me, so much of the horror genre is entirely about watching monsters kill and watching people in the process of being attacked, vivisected and then, dying.
By contrast, "The Haunting Of Hill House," for all of its genuine terror, for all of its aching upset, for all of its beneath the skin disturbance, it is an experience, that is about and fully approximates what it means to live and the day by day process we each undertake as we all figure out how to keep living.
