The House of the Devil
***
I was thinking as I was watching the opening credits of The
House of the Devil how the electronic score sounded so similar to something
perhaps put together by The Cars back in the 80s. That should perhaps signify a
little about how inspired Ti West was while directing this horror film so
beloved by many while not so marveled by a few of us believing it took slow
burn to the Nth degree. The opening credits, though, and some of the
camerawork, reminded me of the 70s (especially the *devil cult* aspect of the
film’s story so established at the onset), while the characters and music
seemed culled from the 80s. So I think The House of the Devil is a patchwork of
two decades instead of what many consider homage to the 80s.
With The Grindhouse so electrifying the horror genre in regards to filmmakers returning to their roots, putting their own spin on the past in the present, The House of the Devil is kind of like Gutterballs (well, the films couldn’t be more different in approach and tone, but both are still throwbacks to films of the past) in that it wears all the influences out and proud. You know, often I read of how films are better experiences in a theater than on screen, but I recall a few months back watching The House of the Devil on Chiller channel just how well this movie plays on the flat screen (the small screen seems to be an extinct expression nowadays). It really does seem like a film that might actually be better as an occasional viewing when you just want something on. That’s not an insult, but a compliment. I think some films have a rewatchable value to them, in particular those slow burner types that don’t function as hyperkinetic, constantly-edited, camera-jerky flicks that seem to have monopolized not only horror but most of the product we see at this time.
With The Grindhouse so electrifying the horror genre in regards to filmmakers returning to their roots, putting their own spin on the past in the present, The House of the Devil is kind of like Gutterballs (well, the films couldn’t be more different in approach and tone, but both are still throwbacks to films of the past) in that it wears all the influences out and proud. You know, often I read of how films are better experiences in a theater than on screen, but I recall a few months back watching The House of the Devil on Chiller channel just how well this movie plays on the flat screen (the small screen seems to be an extinct expression nowadays). It really does seem like a film that might actually be better as an occasional viewing when you just want something on. That’s not an insult, but a compliment. I think some films have a rewatchable value to them, in particular those slow burner types that don’t function as hyperkinetic, constantly-edited, camera-jerky flicks that seem to have monopolized not only horror but most of the product we see at this time.
“Hey, you, check it. Volvo. Safest car on the road…” –says Megan in a sarcastic tone.
“It’s too good to be true. This whole night changes
everything for me.”
Oh, how she can’t even imagine the accuracy of this statement…and not in the way she thinks.
My critique of this film comes from the “less is more” variety. I don’t mind the idea of a young woman unaware of what the house she’s staying in has within its walls. In fact I have quite the love for that very plot, and a lot of the execution is really a pleasure to experience, but after a while I start to get a bit antsy. I’m not that guy that needs a constant thrill a minute with a roadrunner pace; I like the idea of a film taking its time, as long as it delivers something of note. If maybe the house itself had yielded more, and the other stars had parts a bit more sizable than minutes (although, both Woronov and Noonan do wonders at leaving us with a sense of the weird and unease; I admit, though, that I was grinning when both appear…), and there wasn’t a feeling that the look through the setting was dragged out to such a degree because the script had little for her to actually do. Movies with a house where evil dwells are my cuppa blood, as long as some evil appears every now and then. When a plot goes on and on, the protagonist looks and looks, and nothing appears for such a duration, I have to be honest in that I become a bit weary. That could be a slight on my part. Some think this an absolute masterpiece, a good majority of horror fans...this will come down to whether you like what you see or long for something else.
In horror movies, we see how fate lands a lead character
into the living nightmare. You just so happen to walk by the school sidewalk board
of advertisements, find that “Babysitter Wanted” sheet pinned crookedly, decide
on trying to call, seem to play phone tag or the potential client doesn’t show
like he’s supposed to, a possible candidate for the job bails, your friend
(feeling sorry for you) makes sure to take down all the other advertisements
that might catch the eyes of other students in need of some quick cash, are
driven to the location by that good friend, are left by the friend (in a rather
disgusted mood because you discussed leaving if the people of the house were
weird), that friend is shot in the head by some cold-blooded wacko, you are
left at the house (not knowing your friend was shot in the head) believing the
job will be easy street (after reluctantly accepting because it is the client’s
mother not a child), but the vibe of the house becomes increasingly eerie (yet
you remain hoping it is just heebie jeebies), until eventually you come to the
realization that it is all a ruse in order to manipulate you into staying. You
are a selection for the weirdo family’s total lunar eclipse devil worship soirée.
I was noticing as the movie continued late in the game
something that quite impressed me. Notice how
the house seems less ominous when Samantha (Jocelin Donahue) has her
headphones on and is jamming to “One Thing Leads to Another” by The Fixx,
dancing about, lost in the music, and just a little later when she starts
hearing strange, thud-like sounds upstairs, it all changes and this place
quickly regains its malevolence? I think that has to be credited to the
director; that ability to flip the aura of that house (and the film) on a
couple sounds and a slight bit of foreboding score is commendable.
While I realize that Ti West may have been mimicking the oft-applied downbeat ending where evil actually wins, even if his loyal members are destroyed, I wasn’t that fond of it myself. It is interesting how much different the final fifteen minutes is compared to the 75 prior to it. Steady, calm, gradual movement, a methodical development of uncertain danger, giving way to manic, explosive, non-stop barrage of violence, with a breakneck, out-of-control, erratic style that is as frantic and frenetic as Samantha’s hurriedly rushing-and-running heroine attempting to avert certain doom if still for hardly a moment. In thinking about it, maybe I did kind of like the decision to hit us in the jugular. On this blog, I get second thoughts while writing reviews so capturing it here as an example you kind of gauge that I'm a bit schizo sometimes. I will say, coming out of this movie, I'm stuck on Greg Kihn Band's The Break-Up Song. I can't stop listening to it, haha.
The film introduces several symbols of Satanic iconography and elements familiar in stories about the bad seed and demonic possession. Chosen for a specific ritual, important in its performance while the eclipse is at its full, Samantha is to carry child, her ceremonial impregnation carried out while rope-tied on a Pentagram-chalked platform by a “demon” while Noonan, Woronov, and AJ Bowen (the son who loyally kills so that the babysitter will be at the perusal of his parents) look on in an almost orgiastic state (in robes). It is here that the film takes on a more supernatural nature, not to mention, becomes a splatter-slash affair with lots of blood (Donahue was placed in a white gown that by the time she hits the graveyard running, while Noonan pursues, is practically red, just covered in blood) and stabbing.
It all becomes really ugly and nasty by film’s end. That’s the point, I guess. The last fifteen minutes is the crescendo. The volcano had built and built, eventually combusting, and by film’s end, poor Samantha was victim to those “borrowing” the house (well, they took it from a family they slaughtered), answering that ad and cementing her legacy to carry demon child.
This time around, I was more receptive to little details. The mink coats “in the basement”, with Samantha finding them in a closet upstairs. The buried away photographs of the real owners of the house. The Volvo’s significance. And the room supposedly housing Mama that was actually the final resting place of a family of three, butchered and laid out in a ceremonial manner on another chalked Pentagram.
When it comes to getting mileage out of a singular location, Ti West does just that with this film. There’s tons of looking in rooms, lights going on and off, a restless, bored Samantha curiously exploring, soon enough encountering destiny when the eclipse is in place for the Devil’s Brood to prepare her for the ceremony and execute their plans to perfection.
Greta Gerwig might be considered an annoyance as Samantha’s
best gal pal, Megan, but little moments like when they’re eating pizza at some
generic pizza restaurant with her trying to endure slices of pepperoni that
leave her less than satisfied as the two talk about the potential of a new
place to live, or how the two talk over this in the car while driving to the
babysitting gig, the creepy vibes talking with Noonan’s Mr. Ullman, these
scenes all give the young actress a chance to participate in a small, seemingly
insignificant part she tries to make her own. I love her, myself. The reason I
do is she seems dorky, genuinely affectionate for her pal, chatty (I prefer
chatty women, believe it or not), and has that keen ability good friends do at
dragging out details so that the conversation doesn’t hit that wall of quiet
that can come to pass when discussing life’s difficulties. And her death is so
abrupt and impacts because of how the killer carries it out without hesitation,
no problem at all. She had to be silenced; Megan is a threat.
Donahue had that Jamie Curtis-Laurie Strode part in The
House of the Devil. Because this film is so highly regarded and likely to
endure as a cult favorite (if even your average movie critic likes the film,
that says something) for decades to come, Donahue may never have such a role
again, but Samantha is all hers. I can’t help but smile at just thinking of her
dancing around the house, even now on Saturday morning after watching the movie
on Friday night late. I realize some consider the results of the film—the way
she can successfully take out Devil’s Brood, despite strength in numbers—nonsensical
and contrived, but it does follow the mould established in films director West
was paying homage to. The final girl, the young heroine, is able to defend
herself against the Satanists, get out of the house, fleeing (she does remind
me of Marilyn Burns in Texas Chainsaw Massacre running for her life with
Leatherface in pursuit) into the cemetery, eventually putting a bullet in her
skull hoping (unsuccessfully) to stop the birth of the hellspawn inside her
(Rosemary’s Baby?). For those of us who watch these movies all the time, the
ending follows somewhat closely with the past, so it is kind of hard for me to
attack too harshly.
Donahue, at least, takes a page from Marilyn Burns more than maybe a final girl in a Friday the 13th film: frightened completely, only thinking about escape and survival, a mess of fear, tears, blood, and trembling, she has enough presence of mind to grab weapons available to her (gun and knife), but is constant in getting out of that house, by whatever means necessary. I always thought Burns was one of the most realistic portraits of a female victim put through the ringer and coming out a never-to-be-the-same wreck, broken and damaged, mental state in disarray. I felt Donahue is the same way. It is fascinating to me how all of Donahue’s trauma happens in a quick succession of events, and West makes damn sure to create a sense of disorientation and madness; it all becomes a maddening frenzy of violence that doesn’t let up. West’s camera is in love with Donahue, too. Lots of close-ups of her beautiful face, the Charlie Angels’ stylized hair cut, the tight, nondescript jeans, blasé shirt, giant cassette player walkman with the headphones, Donahue is presented as any typical college girl in the early 80s way before there was an increasing emphasis on modeling yourself after pop culture influences and dressing the part of a diva.
To me, and perhaps others, Donahue is cute just
because her style /personal appearance doesn’t cry out for attention; early in
the film, West allows her to strut her stuff, giving her plenty of time to
create a character, Samantha caught in the mire of a mundane college existence,
her life not too extraordinary, no particular details regarding background (or
even her major in college) or what she wants to be after putting in the years
of academia, just the heart’s desire of a home of her own and needing to find
the money to make it happen. Laurie was given the same room in Halloween to
grow on us; Donahue’s Samantha has that same vulnerable, virginal
girl-next-door. When she’s struggling with how to get the house and pay for it,
or having to deal with a roommate from hell that has worn out her welcome, it
feels very authentic and the way West shoots from a voyeur’s perspective, it is
almost like we peer into this life while in a state of duress and anxiety. And
as the end comes and hell literally visits upon her, Donahue ably shows the
terror that such a scenario would obviously elicit.
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| Who goes there? |
Basically, Noonan and Woronov are in the film not just
because they are identifiable to a horror genre audience but how they can bring
a level of “something’s off about these people” to the parts of the Ullmans
that is needed. We need to feel that this couple has sinister motives, are untrustworthy,
and have evil intentions for the heroine, but the money has blinded her to
their obvious aura. Megan sees it because she’s not currently under the same
panicky predicament of gaining immediate employment so that a pipedream can
become a reality. Woronov looked like an aged Mother Bates, and there’s just
something really skin-crawling about her. Noonan can walk into a room, as tall
as he is, a voice that is as careful and enigmatic as his behavior, and cause
you to recoil; that’s a gift in the horror genre. Add the hobble-walk,
slight-white beard, cane, and inability to look people in the eyes, and there’s
a character that throws off a peculiar scent Megan identifies. Money talks,
Megan walks and balks, Evil Stalks, and Samantha winds up tied to Pentagram
chalk.
I had mentioned fate. Normally it begins from something as
simple as the desire to move into a home, needing the appropriate funds to
cover the first month, in a short amount of time, and the results are
horrifying. There’s an early scene where Samantha has grown so tired of sharing
a dorm (that has become trashed with scattered clothes and disorganized items
all over the floor) with a slobby girl who shares her bed with a guy she doesn’t
even care about, turning on the sink faucets in the nearby women’s restroom,
sitting in a slump, her head hanging low, sobbing in hands covering her face,
in a urinal. She is often telling herself to get a grip. She lies frustratingly
on her bed, staring upward, sighing to herself, in despair. Samantha just wants
a pad of her own, freedom from the snoring and whoring of her dorm roommate
From that, it all seems minuscule compared to the results of
her night at the House of the Devil, doesn’t it?
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