Night Gallery - The House
Written on Wednesday
An elderly woman who lives at the institution where this
story’s protagonist is about to leave describes her as “dreamy” with feet not
firmly on the ground. Like a “wood sprite”. Miss Latimer dreams of a drive, in
slow motion, her long, flowing blonde hair dancing as her convertible, top
down, heads for a specific location. She knows the location, every detail, as
every square inch of the house—its furnishings, the color, how many rooms, the
pond, position of the windows, the trees, paintings, stairwell, the works—comes
alive to her as if she was always meant to be there. What does it all mean? She
arrives at the house, a picturesque beauty, bathed in California rural
sunlight, wrapped in quaintness, not at all some gloomy, somber, foreboding
locale drenched in darkness. Far from it.
To her therapist, Dr. Peter Mitchell (Steve Franken), Latimer--with those gorgeous eyes and those lashes open wide like flowers in spring bloom--offers him quite a distinctive dream, too. She does so in this whimsical manner, as if reciting an oft-told tale in a soft voice that doesn’t posit dread but curiosity. Pettet is just this 70s beauty that the decade claims particular ownership. Closeups aplenty because the director clearly understood just how Pettet radiates in front of the camera. And her performance and just the way she’s filmed, the character of Latimer is seemingly not quite of this world. It was as if she belongs in the dream that she vividly recalls. Her therapist almost appears half-interested although he puts up as good a front as he can. I grin a bit when that timer goes off and time is up…the way he perks up as if the bell rings in class telling the students it was time to go home. He’s attentive but I think it is clear her leaving the hospital is like this welcome reprieve from a routine long in the tooth to him. I did ask myself just how many times this hour (or whatever length) session was spent on this specific dream.
Why Latimer was in the hospital—life was just too heavy?—isn’t altogether specified, but the doctor hints through an exchange with her as the session ends that it was the case of being removed from responsibilities, pressures, and anxieties out in the real world. As long as she was deeply entrenched in the hospital, inclusively concealed, remaining in the safe confines where she is looked after by a staff and attended to. So Latimer is released, and, sure enough, finds the house from her dream. The mysterious Mr. Peugeot (Paul Richards) has been cloaked in the darkness of some trees just out of sight, a real estate agent from town who just happened to be in the area as Latimer arrives. He’s a relatively humorless, cold-toned fellow. He doesn’t get all that excited, even when Latimer shocks him with immediate willingness to buy the house (offered a price that is just too good to pass up) despite his eventual revelation that its supposedly haunted. He’s not the kind that gets worked up. Nor does he mince words. Very deliberate and not prone to small talk, Peugeot tries to stay on point and sell the damn house. The previous occupants fleeing does appear to be a topic he cannot avoid, although ultimately Lattimer still wants to live there.
To her therapist, Dr. Peter Mitchell (Steve Franken), Latimer--with those gorgeous eyes and those lashes open wide like flowers in spring bloom--offers him quite a distinctive dream, too. She does so in this whimsical manner, as if reciting an oft-told tale in a soft voice that doesn’t posit dread but curiosity. Pettet is just this 70s beauty that the decade claims particular ownership. Closeups aplenty because the director clearly understood just how Pettet radiates in front of the camera. And her performance and just the way she’s filmed, the character of Latimer is seemingly not quite of this world. It was as if she belongs in the dream that she vividly recalls. Her therapist almost appears half-interested although he puts up as good a front as he can. I grin a bit when that timer goes off and time is up…the way he perks up as if the bell rings in class telling the students it was time to go home. He’s attentive but I think it is clear her leaving the hospital is like this welcome reprieve from a routine long in the tooth to him. I did ask myself just how many times this hour (or whatever length) session was spent on this specific dream.
Why Latimer was in the hospital—life was just too heavy?—isn’t altogether specified, but the doctor hints through an exchange with her as the session ends that it was the case of being removed from responsibilities, pressures, and anxieties out in the real world. As long as she was deeply entrenched in the hospital, inclusively concealed, remaining in the safe confines where she is looked after by a staff and attended to. So Latimer is released, and, sure enough, finds the house from her dream. The mysterious Mr. Peugeot (Paul Richards) has been cloaked in the darkness of some trees just out of sight, a real estate agent from town who just happened to be in the area as Latimer arrives. He’s a relatively humorless, cold-toned fellow. He doesn’t get all that excited, even when Latimer shocks him with immediate willingness to buy the house (offered a price that is just too good to pass up) despite his eventual revelation that its supposedly haunted. He’s not the kind that gets worked up. Nor does he mince words. Very deliberate and not prone to small talk, Peugeot tries to stay on point and sell the damn house. The previous occupants fleeing does appear to be a topic he cannot avoid, although ultimately Lattimer still wants to live there.
The dream with Latimer arriving at the house, knocking on
the door, looking up at the house, getting in the car, and driving away just as
the person inside opens the door obviously will eventually (I think) gain some
clarity. Now Latimer is in the house
and hears the knock, goes to the door, and sees herself driving away. Cue the, “Woah.” She’s the ghost…but how? The
ending result of the story is supposed to leave us baffled and perplexed, it
seems, and if that was the intention, SUCCESS! Pettet was the right casting
choice, at the right time, in the right show. She must have been a dream
herself to clothing designers…she could wear just about anything and look
fabulous. As for the story, it is purposely dreamlike and the conclusion has us
questioning whether or not anything we just watched is real. Or if perhaps some
of it—the very beginning in the therapist’s office—is real and the rest might
be questionable. This is the kind of story that might leave you psychoanalyzing
it until your brain hurts. I’ll just stick with freeze-framing Pettit’s face
and long locks in memory for a while…
Comments
Post a Comment