House (1986)They say that too much solitude can play tricks on the mind. But what happens when those "tricks" are real, and they are, in fact, out to get you? House (1986) is the story of famed horror novelist, Roger Cobb (William Katt), who has been suffering from a combination of writer's block and depression since his son, Jimmy (Erik and Mark Silver), vanished without a trace a year prior, an event that led to a divorce between him and his soap opera star ex-wife, Sandy (Kay Lenz). After his aunt, Elizabeth (Susan French), ends her life in her home--the same home Roger grew up in--he moves into the house seeking solitude and soul-searching, only to discover some unquiet souls searching for him.
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House is a horror film, but one with a decidedly darkly comic vein running throughout it. One might even say it is part satire of the genre and the style of horror films from the Eighties. To wit, House is a derivative film, but it cleverly exploits these tropes in refreshing, funny, and self-aware ways. The casting in House--including a multitude of actors largely recognizable from popular sitcoms of the day--also has the effect (intentional or otherwise) of adding an additional comedic layer to the film. The musical score and occasional tracking shots are reminiscent of John Carpenter's Halloween, and the plot is more than a few shades of Tobe Hooper's Poltergeist. Even the misanthropic--yet highly detailed--monsters which assail Roger recall Sam Raimi's The Evil Dead, in how they jump out and terrorize him. That said, these familiar horror elements are upended with comically absurd counterpoints, deflating some of the tension by design. There are some moments which are even silly and innocuous, like the grocery boy who announces himself as "the grocery boy", or bizarre dialogue from the soap opera Sandy works on--tritely called "Resort"--with such ludicrous lines as "my sister was an only child". Others combine the horror with the outrageous, like when a winged bat demon deftly twirls Roger's shotgun, or when Roger buries the dismembered remains of an obese demon that just won't die, set to the tune of "You're No Good" by Clint Ballard Jr. and "Dedicated To The One I Love" by Lowman Pauling and Ralph Bass. Even when Roger uses his remote control to "turn off" the manifestation of his son in the window is crazy; it also leaves the impression that these manifestations might only be in Roger's head. Roger doesn't seem like a crazy guy, but he's been to Vietnam, lost his only son, and is recently divorced. As his new nosy neighbor, Harold (George Wendt), observes, he has a "few marbles rolling around"--adding ghosts into the equation doesn't do Roger any favors.
Roger's life has become a meaningless slog. At his apartment, he feigns social involvement when his ex-wife calls to check up on him, while he subsides on frozen TV dinners. The once lauded author has been reduced to fretting over how to finish his new novel about his experiences in Vietnam--one his producer tries to deter him from writing in favor of more pulp horror fare. Ultimately, Roger's dodging his own grief, and it's clear he has been for a while--thus the decay of his relationship and his self-inflicted isolation. One would think that Roger would use his isolation to write, but this project he insists upon seeing through is one which forces him to re-evaluate a traumatic event in his past, where he lost a dear friend in a jungle firefight, the gruff, "Big" Ben (Richard Moll). Roger's backed himself into a psychological corner, one where he will have to confront his past in order to move forward. Subsequently, his move back home to his aunt's empty house makes sense. If you struggle to produce creative work--be it writing or something else--in one environment, change the environment. Roger delays his writing at first because of the strange phenomena he experiences back home. But he experiences even more as he continues to write--metaphorically unearthing his past, just as he digs the varied graves around his backyard to lay to rest one of his more tenacious poltergeists. Roger struggles in the face of this resurfaced stress and takes to his seclusion more and more, and slowly begins to look the part of the kooky veteran, bedecked in army fatigues and running around with a shotgun. For a film which seems principally concerned with instances of creepy--even demented--hauntings, House also acknowledges issues of psychological hauntings, like grief and post-traumatic stress. Harold is a fan of Roger's work, but even he can sense that Roger's extreme isolation--like his aunt before him--is on a path which can lead to madness. Harold is a surprisingly supportive friend, dropping by with Chinese food and beers to hang out and keep Roger company rather than let him fall into despair. Roger's determination to shift his writing from horror to a biographical war story is his most personal means of resolving a long-standing trauma that is threatening to consume him. As it's never fully clear how or why the eponymous house is haunted--whether it is responding to the inner horrors of its residents or is some other kind of force--it is more significant that it is a hurdle for Roger to overcome in order to move beyond the scars.
Recommended for: Fans of a haunted house horror movie, consistent with the style of other Eighties era classics, yet one with a clever infusion of dark comedy. House also possesses more subtle metaphors for about post-traumatic stress, grief, and how isolation can exacerbate them if left unchecked.
Roger's life has become a meaningless slog. At his apartment, he feigns social involvement when his ex-wife calls to check up on him, while he subsides on frozen TV dinners. The once lauded author has been reduced to fretting over how to finish his new novel about his experiences in Vietnam--one his producer tries to deter him from writing in favor of more pulp horror fare. Ultimately, Roger's dodging his own grief, and it's clear he has been for a while--thus the decay of his relationship and his self-inflicted isolation. One would think that Roger would use his isolation to write, but this project he insists upon seeing through is one which forces him to re-evaluate a traumatic event in his past, where he lost a dear friend in a jungle firefight, the gruff, "Big" Ben (Richard Moll). Roger's backed himself into a psychological corner, one where he will have to confront his past in order to move forward. Subsequently, his move back home to his aunt's empty house makes sense. If you struggle to produce creative work--be it writing or something else--in one environment, change the environment. Roger delays his writing at first because of the strange phenomena he experiences back home. But he experiences even more as he continues to write--metaphorically unearthing his past, just as he digs the varied graves around his backyard to lay to rest one of his more tenacious poltergeists. Roger struggles in the face of this resurfaced stress and takes to his seclusion more and more, and slowly begins to look the part of the kooky veteran, bedecked in army fatigues and running around with a shotgun. For a film which seems principally concerned with instances of creepy--even demented--hauntings, House also acknowledges issues of psychological hauntings, like grief and post-traumatic stress. Harold is a fan of Roger's work, but even he can sense that Roger's extreme isolation--like his aunt before him--is on a path which can lead to madness. Harold is a surprisingly supportive friend, dropping by with Chinese food and beers to hang out and keep Roger company rather than let him fall into despair. Roger's determination to shift his writing from horror to a biographical war story is his most personal means of resolving a long-standing trauma that is threatening to consume him. As it's never fully clear how or why the eponymous house is haunted--whether it is responding to the inner horrors of its residents or is some other kind of force--it is more significant that it is a hurdle for Roger to overcome in order to move beyond the scars.
Recommended for: Fans of a haunted house horror movie, consistent with the style of other Eighties era classics, yet one with a clever infusion of dark comedy. House also possesses more subtle metaphors for about post-traumatic stress, grief, and how isolation can exacerbate them if left unchecked.