The Haunting of Hill House - Part One
Oct. 17th, 2018 09:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
glitter_n_goreIn case you haven't heard, there is a new adaptation of Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House out on Netflix, directed by rising horror filmmaker Mike Flanagan. There have previously been two movie adaptations of this story, one of which is more or less faithful to the original novel, and one of which is . . . not.
Flanagan's take on this classic haunted house story is an unusual and highly creative approach. It reminds me of NBC's Hannibal in a way, taking advantage of the fact that the target audience is probably familiar with the source material, and using that familiarity to subvert and exceed expectations at the same time. It's very different from anything I could've expected, but stays true to the Gothic spirit of the original story beautifully.
Now, one thing you may have also heard is Flanagan suggested viewers stop mid-season, and go back and rewatch the first five episodes before moving on. In that spirit, I'm going to review the first half of The Haunting of Hill House, then go back and review the series as a whole. At this point, I have not watched further than Episode 5, "The Bent-Neck Lady."
There will be vague SPOILERS in this post, but only for the first half of the series.
The Crain family--Steven, Shirley, Theo, and the twins, Nell and Luke--all grew up in the now-infamous Hill House. Steve (Michiel Huisman) is a published author who writes "true hauntings" books based on eye witness accounts of the paranormal, including their childhood home, despite not believing in the paranormal himself. Shirley (Elizabeth Reaser) runs a mortuary and funeral home, and helps guide clients through the grieving process. Theo (Kate Siegel) has an uncanny ability to uncover psychic imprints in objects and people by touching them, and uses her gift to help children in her psychology practice. The twins, well, the twins are barely coping, Luke (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) via drug addiction, for which he's in rehab when we meet him; and Nell (Victoria Pedretti) through chronic depression and sleep paralysis episodes for which she's stopped taking her medication.
If you've read the book, you will recognize those names, but not necessarily the characters attached to them. Likewise, you will recognize a few iconic pieces of the house itself, like the banging on the walls in the middle of the night, the rickety spiral staircase, the marble statues in the sun room, and the ornate doorknobs shaped like lion heads. The ghost of the original work is here, but buried in layers of family drama so dense it morphs into something else.
The inciting incident that follows the Crain children into adulthood is when their father bundles them out of the house in the middle of the night. He won't explain what happened, or why their mother isn't coming with them, or why it's so urgent that they all leave right now without packing or getting dressed, or afterwards, exactly how she died. They are all traumatized by what happened that night, and they all cope differently.
The story here is told in non-sequential pieces, with each episode (at least so far) focusing on one of the children. We see a flashback sequence describing a particular incident in Hill House when they were kids, tracking alongside their adult lives and how they respond to Nell's death, which happens in the very first episode. What's interesting about this is the events in the house aren't entirely out of their control, and as scary as they are, they all find ways to grow and evolve as people because of their time there. In other words, they are shaping the story as they are living it. There's one part to this that breaks into a non-linear time frame, allowing one of the characters to travel backwards into their own childhood. But I won't give that one away.
When I talk about characters being the most important part of any work of fiction, this is what I mean. Yes, the house is haunted. Yes, there are bad things happening that they can't anticipate. But the situation they're in when we, the audience, meet them, is a complex tapestry that they've all played a part in weaving together. The Crains are the authors of their own horror story, whether they want to be or not.
The result of all this is that despite taking place over several decades and across several states, the story feels close, personal, and intimate. The Crain siblings are so strongly tethered to the house and to each other that when Nell dies, they all feel it. They don't understand what they're feeling, but their reactions are immediate and intense. Centering the first half of the story around Nell's death and everyone's responses to it, saving Nell herself for last in the moments leading up to it, makes her a key figure in the story even though she's not technically the protagonist, as she was in the book.
Of course, this is all only about the first five episodes. Mike Flanagan has introduced the players in his dark play, and given us all the information about them we need to move forward, but there is still a lot of story left at this point. Episode 5, "The Bent-Neck Lady," recasts all the previous episodes as a long-form introduction to what's really going on here. We have the who, but not the what, the how, or the why, of Hill House and whatever walks there. We don't know what really happened to the Crain siblings' mother. We don't know what's inside the red room. We don't know what the deal is with the Dudleys, who looked after the house before the last Hill died, or why they won't come inside the grounds after dark. We don't know why the house is so determined that Nell, specifically, come home again.
I have a feeling the real terror won't begin until after Nell's funeral, when the family is all together again. And I have a feeling the rest of them will be called back to the house before it's over. I can't wait to see what happens to them there.
Flanagan's take on this classic haunted house story is an unusual and highly creative approach. It reminds me of NBC's Hannibal in a way, taking advantage of the fact that the target audience is probably familiar with the source material, and using that familiarity to subvert and exceed expectations at the same time. It's very different from anything I could've expected, but stays true to the Gothic spirit of the original story beautifully.
Now, one thing you may have also heard is Flanagan suggested viewers stop mid-season, and go back and rewatch the first five episodes before moving on. In that spirit, I'm going to review the first half of The Haunting of Hill House, then go back and review the series as a whole. At this point, I have not watched further than Episode 5, "The Bent-Neck Lady."
There will be vague SPOILERS in this post, but only for the first half of the series.
The Crain family--Steven, Shirley, Theo, and the twins, Nell and Luke--all grew up in the now-infamous Hill House. Steve (Michiel Huisman) is a published author who writes "true hauntings" books based on eye witness accounts of the paranormal, including their childhood home, despite not believing in the paranormal himself. Shirley (Elizabeth Reaser) runs a mortuary and funeral home, and helps guide clients through the grieving process. Theo (Kate Siegel) has an uncanny ability to uncover psychic imprints in objects and people by touching them, and uses her gift to help children in her psychology practice. The twins, well, the twins are barely coping, Luke (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) via drug addiction, for which he's in rehab when we meet him; and Nell (Victoria Pedretti) through chronic depression and sleep paralysis episodes for which she's stopped taking her medication.
If you've read the book, you will recognize those names, but not necessarily the characters attached to them. Likewise, you will recognize a few iconic pieces of the house itself, like the banging on the walls in the middle of the night, the rickety spiral staircase, the marble statues in the sun room, and the ornate doorknobs shaped like lion heads. The ghost of the original work is here, but buried in layers of family drama so dense it morphs into something else.
The inciting incident that follows the Crain children into adulthood is when their father bundles them out of the house in the middle of the night. He won't explain what happened, or why their mother isn't coming with them, or why it's so urgent that they all leave right now without packing or getting dressed, or afterwards, exactly how she died. They are all traumatized by what happened that night, and they all cope differently.
The story here is told in non-sequential pieces, with each episode (at least so far) focusing on one of the children. We see a flashback sequence describing a particular incident in Hill House when they were kids, tracking alongside their adult lives and how they respond to Nell's death, which happens in the very first episode. What's interesting about this is the events in the house aren't entirely out of their control, and as scary as they are, they all find ways to grow and evolve as people because of their time there. In other words, they are shaping the story as they are living it. There's one part to this that breaks into a non-linear time frame, allowing one of the characters to travel backwards into their own childhood. But I won't give that one away.
When I talk about characters being the most important part of any work of fiction, this is what I mean. Yes, the house is haunted. Yes, there are bad things happening that they can't anticipate. But the situation they're in when we, the audience, meet them, is a complex tapestry that they've all played a part in weaving together. The Crains are the authors of their own horror story, whether they want to be or not.
The result of all this is that despite taking place over several decades and across several states, the story feels close, personal, and intimate. The Crain siblings are so strongly tethered to the house and to each other that when Nell dies, they all feel it. They don't understand what they're feeling, but their reactions are immediate and intense. Centering the first half of the story around Nell's death and everyone's responses to it, saving Nell herself for last in the moments leading up to it, makes her a key figure in the story even though she's not technically the protagonist, as she was in the book.
Of course, this is all only about the first five episodes. Mike Flanagan has introduced the players in his dark play, and given us all the information about them we need to move forward, but there is still a lot of story left at this point. Episode 5, "The Bent-Neck Lady," recasts all the previous episodes as a long-form introduction to what's really going on here. We have the who, but not the what, the how, or the why, of Hill House and whatever walks there. We don't know what really happened to the Crain siblings' mother. We don't know what's inside the red room. We don't know what the deal is with the Dudleys, who looked after the house before the last Hill died, or why they won't come inside the grounds after dark. We don't know why the house is so determined that Nell, specifically, come home again.
I have a feeling the real terror won't begin until after Nell's funeral, when the family is all together again. And I have a feeling the rest of them will be called back to the house before it's over. I can't wait to see what happens to them there.