No one lives any nearer than town. No one will come any nearer than that. In the night. In the dark
No one lives any nearer than town. No one will come any nearer than that. In the night. In the dark
Classic horror flick 'The Haunting' celebrates 60 years this year. Let's throw open the doors to Hill House and party like it's 1963
Be ever so humble, there's no place like home.
Unless that home is haunted.
The horror genre is littered with films, shows, books, and graphic novels that tell tales of infested houses. Stephen King most notably did so with The Shining; as did Stanley Kubrick with his adaptation of King's novel.
However brilliant as the novel and film are — and they absolutely are — King and Kubrick aren't the only notable pair in this subgenre. In 1959, Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of HIll House was first published and Robert Wise directed the definitive film version (titled The Haunting) four years later.
As much as I love the Overlook Hotel, I always come back to Hill House.
From the house's dark and twisted history to Eleanor Vance's own trauma inflicted by her abusive family to the Scooby gang who gather to investigate whether or not the house is actually haunted, there are so many layers here to analyze and enjoy.
In honor of the film's 60th anniversary, let's knowingly cross the threshold and get become better acquainted with the Hill House Four.
An evil old house, the kind some people call haunted, is like an undiscovered country waiting to be explored. Hill House had stood for 90 years and might stand for 90 more. Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there... walked alone.
No one who rented Hill House ever stayed more than a few days
What captures my imagination as much as the history of the house itself is the band of intrepid souls who enter the formidable dwelling. The paranormal investigator. The psychic. The skeptic. The caretaker. Each has a reason for coming to Hill House. (Initially, there were to be six on the team, but they fell away one by one.)
In the years since it was occupied by original owner Hugh Crain and his family, Hill House has been hard pressed to keep a tenant long term. As the story goes, Crain built the home for his wife and daughter; the wife died in a carriage accident upon her arrival. (The second Mrs. Crain didn't fare much better.) Crain eventually left his daughter with a nanny and fled to England, where he subsequently drowned. The daughter lived to see old age, but died calling for her companion; said companion later hung herself after inheriting the house.
Current owner Mrs. Sannerson, who inherited Hill House from the companion and doesn't reside there, explains this all to Dr. Markway when he pleads his case upon expressing a desire to rent the place.
Everyone's wary of the old house yet no one can explain the dark hold it has on the imagination of those in the village as well as those who seek it out, like Markway and company. Perhaps it defies explanation.
Or maybe there's just a simpler one.
Hill House seeks a suitable soul to spend eternity within its walls. Finding the right match is rarely easy. After all, Zillow only gets you so far.
Look, I know the supernatural is something that isn't supposed to happen, but it does happen
Dr. John Markway has a fascination with the unknown, the unexplainable. It's what brings him to the drawing room of Mrs. Sannerson when he requests to rent out Hill House for the summer. It's why only those with unique qualities receive an invitation to join his study. It's ultimately why the married doctor is captivated by Eleanor Vance, who on the surface seems rather ordinary.
This is a man who will seemingly risk everything if it means he could prove the supernatural wasn't fantastical. Markway encourages Eleanor to embrace Hill House's entreaties, pushing the fragile woman to her breaking point; his zeal criticized by his companions Theodora and Luke — unlike Markway and Eleanor, both of whom threaten to become lost in its thrall.
His passion for the paranormal comes with a steep price. One that may encourage Markway to explore other avenues of academia … or drive him further into his preoccupation with the supernatural.
Haven't you noticed how nothing in this house seems to move until you look away and then you just... catch something out of the corner of your eye?
One cool cat. That's Theodora. The resident bohemian psychic is unmoored by the end of her stay at Hill House, though let's not jump ahead. She tolerates the men on the team; challenging Markway and bantering with Luke; however, it's Eleanor who has her attention. Theodora intuits the wallflower's true reason for coming to Hill House yet doesn't dismiss Eleanor as a result. There's compassion beneath her confident, somewhat prickly exterior.
As a result, she becomes Eleanor's champion — especially when the house makes its intentions clear. Equal turns protector and pragmatist, Theodora keeps a watchful eye on the proceedings while refusing to pass up a chance to flirt with Eleanor or spend time with her. It may seem unlikely that someone as sophisticated as Theodora would even give a church mouse like Eleanor a second glance but with Eleanor, Theodora intuits there's more to her than meets the eye.
In the end, any hopes Theodora may have had for her and Eleanor turn to ash. For the house always wins.
I haven't seen a damn thing! I just don't like the way it looks
When it comes to paranormal activity — "supernatural jazz," he calls it — Luke Sannerson has no skin in the game. He's here as an emissary for his dear aunt, who holds the deed to the joint — the same deed he'll one day inherit. Where Markway sees psychic potential, Luke sees financial gain. He's introduced carrying a pitcher of martinis, joking he majored in them in college. Why hold a funeral when you can have a house party? Luke thinks all this doom and gloom is contagious; not to mention pointless. Not like the place is actually haunted.
Every incident that gets the others riled up, he shrugs off. Soon enough, he stops shrugging when those familiar fingers of terror walk up his spine. Logic can't explain half what happens at Hill House; a truth even Luke admits when he has no choice. That doesn't mean he can't try to find some shred of humor in the house's chicanery ... until there's nothing funny about it.
What once was a bona fide boon to his portfolio quickly becomes a bust. Luke's ready to burn Hill House to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood. No amount of profit is worth the hell that must be paid.
Can't you feel it? It's alive... watching
Mrs. Dudley, the housekeeper, warns that she and her husband, who is the groundskeeper, leave before the dark comes when Eleanor Lance first arrives. If only Eleanor could do the same metaphorically as the darkness has already taken hold. She was brought on by Markway because of her experience with poltergeists: stones fell on her home for three days when she was a child. Eleanor denies it, but it's clear she's upset by the truth. The bigger question is: Did Eleanor somehow cause the event?
The death of her mother two months prior weighs heavily on Eleanor; not because she mourns. Grief did not overcome her; only relief that her long nightmare was over — and guilt over that relief. In truth, the nightmare continued thanks to the tyrannical hold her sister had over Eleanor as she plays on Eleanor's insecurities in the wake of their late mother's demise. These psychic echoes of trauma draw Hill House's attention, as well as that of Theodora and Markway ... in markedly different ways.
Unexpectedly fielding two potential suitors — though she's only seriously considering one; not that Markway is available despite his attentions — Eleanor is officially living her best life. She's seemingly cut ties to the surviving members of her family while being welcomed by her new found family; crushing on someone she shouldn't be; and desired by a 90-year-old residential dwelling. Some people would kill for that existence.
Eleanor’s love/hate relationship with Hill House ultimately culminates in a choice. A decision that's as inevitable as it is tragic.
Hill House has stood for 90 years and might stand for 90 more. Within, walls continue upright, bricks meet, floors are firm, and doors are sensibly shut. Silence lies steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House.
And we who walk here... walk alone.