Movie Review: Wasp Network

Wasp Network ** ½ / *****
Directed by: Olivier Assayas.
Starring: Olivier Assayas Based on the book by Fernando Morais.
Starring: Penélope Cruz (Olga Salanueva), Edgar Ramírez (Rene Gonzalez), Gael García Bernal (Gerardo Hernandez), Ana de Armas (Ana Magarita Martinez), Wagner Moura (Juan Pablo Roque), Leonardo Sbaraglia (Jose Basulto), Nolan Guerra (Cruz León), Osdeymi Pastrana (Irmo), Tony Plana (Luis Posada Carriles).

Olivier Assayas is one of the great directors currently working – and one of the most versatile – seemingly at home during large scale epics – like the five-and-a-half hour Carlos, about the famed terrorist, or a small scale ghost story like Personal Shopper, or a throwback to the European art house films of the 1960s and’70s – albeit with a modern twist – in Clouds of Sils Maria. And that barely scratches the surface of his immense, diverse, brilliant filmography. His last film – Wasp Network – would have benefitted from the same treatment that Carlos received – an epic runtime, maybe a television miniseries – because the events covered are so vast, so intricate and complicated, that they simply overwhelm in the films runtime of just over two hours.

Wasp Network is about Cuban spies – and immigration from Cuba – during the 1990s and quite simply tries to tell too many stories at once. There is Rene Gonzalez (Edgar Ramirez), a pilot who pulls off a daring escape – flying from Cuba to Miami where he claims asylum – without bothering to tell his wife Olga (Penelope Cruz) or their daughter about it. It isn’t that he doesn’t love them – he does, and he, and they, spend most of the rest of the film trying to (legally) come to America to join him – but he cannot wait for that himself. He gets involved with some different groups of Cuban exiles – some doing humanitarian work, some not so much. This story is mirrored in another – that of Juan Pablo Roque (Wagner Moura), another pilot who defects to America. He marries Ana Margarita Martinez (Ana de Armas) – although she is suspicious of their wealth, especially when he won’t answer questions about it, and essentially threatens to leave if she keeps asking questions. There is even more going in Wasp Network than that – I haven’t even mentioned someone like Gerardo Hernandez (Gael Garcia Bernal) – whose motives may be murkier than we have led to believe. Or its depiction of the Cuban hotel bombings in 1997 – a wonderful set piece in and of itself in the middle of the film. And on and on.

The first hour of the film works best. That is basically when Assayas is focused on the characters – so even if his narrative is zooming along, we do get to know Rene and Olga and Ana and Juan Pablo a little – even if we don’t know how it’s all going to fit together. There are wonderful cinematic moments throughout – a dance floor sequence for instance, that trains its camera on Armas, and doesn’t look away for a few minutes. The hotel bombings are an example of the kind of tension that Assayas can expertly build.

But in the second hour, as the narrative shoots off in all sorts of different directions, everything becomes muddled – the characters feel more like pawns than people, and everything is far too rushed. The film was picked up by Netflix after its premiere on the fall festival circuit – Venice, TIFF – last year, after which Assayas did go back and re-edit the film in time for the New York Film Festival, given the muted reaction it received at the first two festivals. I almost wonder what Wasp Network would look like if Netflix had been involved from the beginning. They have shown a willingness to let auteurs do their own thing there – from letting Scorsese have The Irishman run three-and-a-half hour, to allowing the Coens to turn Buster Scruggs from an anthology series into a feature, to just letting Spike Lee do whatever he wants with Da 5 Bloods. Perhaps if Assayas had that sort of freedom while making Wasp Network, we would have ended up with another epic masterwork like Carlos – there is enough here to suggest an expanded version would be better. What we have is deeply flawed – some great moments, an interesting setup, and rich source material – all crammed into too small a package to do it justice.

Movie Review: A White, White Day

A White, White Day **** / *****
Directed by: Hlynur Palmason.
Written by: Hlynur Palmason.
Starring: Ingvar Sigurdsson (Ingimundur), Ída Mekkín Hlynsdóttir (Salka), Hilmir Snær Guðnason (Olgeir), Sara Dögg Ásgeirsdóttir (Ingimundur's wife), Björn Ingi Hilmarsson (Trausti), Elma Stefania Agustsdottir (Elín), Haraldur Stefansson (Stefán), Laufey Elíasdóttir (Ingibjörg), Sigurður Sigurjónsson (Bjössi), Arnmundur Ernst Björnsson (Hrafn), Þór Tulinius (Georg - Psychiatrist), Sverrir Þór Sverrisson (Sveppi). 

The main character in A White, White Day discovers that his late wife was having an affair before she died in a single car wreck – memorably portrayed in the hypnotic opening scene. He is already reeling from the death, and now his grief mixes with his anger – and overwhelms everything in his life. He has nowhere to put his rage, no one to confront about the affair – at least at first – and so his anger spills out into every other aspect of his life – most disturbingly into his relationship with his young granddaughter – who he adores, but because he’s around her so much, she will bear the brunt of some of his anger.

But while A White, White Day takes the form of a revenge thriller, it moves at its own pace, and is really more about Ingimundur’s obsession than about revenge. The film takes its cue for its pacing on the harsh, Icelandic environment in which it takes place. It is a small, rural community – one where you know almost everyone else, and seemingly not much happens. Ingimundur is a cop – part time now that he is approaching retirement age – but the police force, such as it is, doesn’t seem overly busy. He spends much of his time fixing up a house for his daughter, son-in-law and beloved granddaughter, Salka (Ída Mekkín Hlynsdóttir) – which he does mostly in solitude.

Written and directed by Hlynur Palmason, A White, White Day makes some offbeat choices on what to focus on, and what not to show. Ingimundur, while going through his wife’s things, finds evidence of the affair – but doesn’t do much about it for a while, other than stew about it. He will eventually start to obsess over the other man – but not until we’ve seen how this all infects the rest of his life. Even a seemingly innocent event – liking tucking Salka into bed – becomes fraught with tension as Ingimundur takes the story too far, even when it becomes clear he is scaring Salka – he keeps pushing, subtly, but cruelly.

Ingvar Sigurdsson is terrific in the lead role. He plays his character as someone who has bottled up all of his emotions. He doesn’t talk about his wife very much to anyone – the closest thing we get to his grief in terms of what he says is when he states “She used to cut my hair – I miss that” – which stands in for all the things he misses about her, but cannot, will not talk about. It is a remarkably controlled performance.

Eventually, of course, not everything will stay so bottled up – and Ingimundur will take things too far, and risk ruining everything. So concerned with the past, that he is letting it infect his present – and perhaps ruin his future. It all builds to a stunner of a final shot, which like the rest of this wonderful film, is slow and subtle – but builds to an emotionally overwhelming final moment. A White, White Day is sleeper – but one well worth your time.

Movie Review: Becky

Becky ** ½ / *****
Directed by: Jonathan Milott and Cary Murnion.
Written by: Nick Morris and Ruckus Skye & Lane Skye.
Starring: Lulu Wilson (Becky), Kevin James (Dominick), Joel McHale (Jeff), Robert Maillet (Apex), Amanda Brugel (Kayla), Isaiah Rockcliffe (Ty), Ryan McDonald (Cole), James McDougall (Hammond), Leslie Adlam (Ms. Hancher). 

Sooner or later, every comedic actor wants to try their hand at something more serious – to get people to see them in a different light. If nothing else, Becky has lovable lunk Kevin James attempting to play an evil, violent neo-Nazi, which is about as far away from his King of Queens, Paul Blart, Adam Sandler-supporting player roles that he has done up to now as possible. Or, at least it should be, but I’m not sure James really does have the range to pull it off. He never really comes across as all that menacing here – which is odd given his shaved head, racist rhetoric and tattoos, and the fact that he basically spends the whole movie trying to kill a teenage girl. He always just seems to be lovable Kevin James dressing up as a bad guy.

Luckily for the movie, young Lulu Wilson – who has been quite good in films like Ouija Origin of Evil, Annabelle: Creation and the TV show Sharp Objects, more than makes up for his deficiencies as the title character – a kick ass teenage girl who finds when push comes to shove, she can shove – and hard. So hard in fact that by the end, you may feel like you’ve just witnesses the origin story of a violent psychopath – even if she is the hero of the film.

The film is basically another take on the home invasion genre. Young Becky and her father, Jeff (Joel McHale), head up to their cabin for a vacation – a brief respite for the grief Becky still feels for her mother who passes away. Things are already tense because Jeff didn’t reveal that he was also inviting his fiancé, Kayla (Amanda Brugel) and her young son to join them. And then a group of escaped, neo-Nazi convicts, led by James’ Dominick, show up because they want something from the house. To be honest, I’m still not quite sure what, or how it got there, or how these Nazis knew it was there, etc. – but it doesn’t really matter. It’s a classic MacGuffin – it doesn’t matter what it is, just that everyone wants it. Soon, it’s pretty much just Becky fighting off these men – picking them off one-by-one in increasingly over-the-top, bloody ways.

I liked Wilson quite a bit in this movie – it’s the type of performance that can easily go wrong, because you either take it too seriously, and thus throw off the exploitation vibe of the movie, or you go too far over the top, and look goofy. She straddles that line well though – and even if, at first, you question how a teenage girl as small as Becky pulls it off, you don’t for long. She sells you on Becky’s determination and ruthlessness. She could have just been a grim joke of a little girl committing violence – but the film at least explores the implications of it all – a little anyways.

The film though never really lives up to her performance. Maybe it’s James’ lack of intimidation, maybe it’s McHale, who I have a tough time believing is ever acting sincere, or maybe it’s just the violence itself is a little too goofy to really hurt (except for the very last, sudden killing – which hits the exact note I wish the rest of the film did). The film does shows what Wilson can do – and I cannot wait to see her in something better.

Movie Review: Gretel & Hansel

Gretel & Hansel *** / *****
Directed by: Osgood Perkins.
Written by: Rob Hayes.
Starring: Sophia Lillis (Gretel), Samuel Leakey (Hansel), Alice Krige (Witch), Jessica De Gouw (Witch), Fiona O'Shaughnessy (Mother), Donncha Crowley (Master Stripp), Jonathan Gunning (Emaciated Man), Charles Babalola (The Hunter), Giulia Doherty (Beautiful Child), Jonathan Delaney Tynan (Father), Darlene Garr (Widow), Melody Carrillo (Enchantress).

In his first three films, Osgood Perkins has done more than enough to showcase his immense talent – and prove to be a horror movie director to watch. All of the films – The Blackcoat’s Daughter, I Am the Pretty Thing that Lives in the House and now Gretel & Hansel are magnificent visually – layering on atmosphere rather than relying on jump scares and gore for effect. He certainly takes his time building up the mounting dread of in his movies. And yet, other than The Blackcoat’s Daughter, the first film he made, although the second released (and also, undeniably his most conventional), I’m not quite sold that Perkins does anything except build atmosphere. The films look great, but I’m not sure they add up to all that much – and don’t quite creep under your skin the way the best horror films do – they seem at a slight remove. There is evidence here – his biggest film to date – that Perkins isn’t going to change his style to suit what people except in a horror film – and I still think that a great horror film is in his future. He just hasn’t quite got there yet.

You can tell two things about the movie from its title – yes, this will be another take on the famed Grimm (and grim) fairy tale about the pair of siblings being lured to a house by a witch, but that this time, the narrative will focus primarily on Gretel. She is played by the talented young actress Sophia Lillis (It, I Am Not Okay with This, Sharp Objects) – and she is older than Hansel this time. She is becoming a young woman, while Hansel is still a child. Things start ominously with their mentally ill mother through them out of the house – abandoning them for dead, telling them to dig “pretty little graves” – before heading out to the deep, dark woods. They meet a kindly woodcutter – but that won’t last long. When they finally get to the Witch’s house (played in a wonderfully creepy performance by Alice Krige) – Gretel is smart enough to notice that things aren’t right fairly early.

Gretel & Hansel is a triumph of atmosphere to be sure. The cinematography by Galo Olivares is dark and ominous, the score by Robert Coudert, will likely bring to mind some classic 1980s horror movies score. The art direction and production design by Jeremy Reed and Christine McDonagh – is a surreal triumph for the witch’s house alone. The performances by Lillis and Krige in particular get the same sense of foreboding dread to not overtake the narrative. Everything works together to have the exact, hushed tone that Perkins has nailed in his first three films.

Yet, I cannot help but wonder – as I did with I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House – if it’s a bunch of visually greatness at the service of something not altogether that interesting. The screenplay tries for a feminist take on this fairy tale – but it’s a very obvious one. The narrative does offer some surprises along the way – but not quite enough.

In short, Gretel & Hansel is, for the third film in a row from Perkins, a sign of just how talented he is – and continues to make me want to see what he does next. He’s got the hard part – the thing that most directors never get right – already down. At some point though, he needs to use it in service of something greater.

Classic Movie Review: The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

The Lady from Shanghai (1947) 

Directed by: Orson Welles.

Written by: Orson Welles based on the novel by Sherwood King.

Starring: Rita Hayworth (Elsa Bannister), Orson Welles (Michael O'Hara), Everett Sloane (Arthur Bannister), Glenn Anders (George Grisby), Ted de Corsia (Sidney Broome), Erskine Sanford (Judge), Gus Schilling (Goldie), Carl Frank (District Attorney Galloway), Louis Merrill (Jake Bjornsen), Evelyn Ellis (Bessie), Harry Shannon (Cab Driver). 

 

I don’t typically spend a lot of time on extra-textuals of a movie – the how and why it got made, because in the end it is what onscreen that matters. Those making of stories are interesting, but if what is onscreen doesn’t work, then it doesn’t really matter. The one exception though is probably the films of Orson Welles. Welles, of course, made Citizen Kane (1941) – widely considered to be the greatest film ever made as his first film, and it was really the only film of his career he got to make exactly how he wanted to make it. His Hollywood career after that was largely made up of fighting with executives, who would take his films away and recut them, leaving them not quite the films Welles wanted. Even when he escaped Hollywood, he wasn’t immune to that – and he often didn’t have the money to do what he wanted to either. Welles remains one of the great directors in film history – but also one of the greatest “What ifs” in film history. One can only imagine what Welles could have and would have done if left to his own devices.

 

Take The Lady from Shanghai (1947) as an example. It’s a film Welles didn’t really want to make – he agreed to do it to continue to get funding for his Around the World in 80 Days – which never did. He said he’d adapt a book he never read, and so he ended up with this noir tale. The story is full of double crosses and triple crosses – complicated murder plots and reversals. And yet Welles doesn’t seem to care much about them – leading to the film having almost a slapdash quality to it. Perhaps if we saw the full version, it wouldn’t, but what remains feel like Welles having a lark. That extends to his performance as well – where he plays an Irishman, with a brogue, who isn’t particularly bright and gets himself into trouble when he falls for the beautiful Elsa (Rita Hayworth, who Welles was married to at the time, but wouldn’t be for much longer). Welles seemingly wanted to piss everyone off – which explains some of the decisions he makes, including having Hayworth cut off her famous mane of red hair – which had made her a star in Gilda, for a shorter cut, dyed blonde. And then , of course, there is the most famous sequence in the film – the almost Avant Garde climax set in a funhouse full of mirrors, that Welles had intended to last for 20 minutes, but which is shorn down to 3 minutes here – and yet remains one of the best sequences in all of cinema.

 

The Lady from Shanghai then probably shouldn’t work. It is a film with a complicated narrative, then the director doesn’t seem interested in, and seems to just skip some connective tissue. How Welles and Hayworth fell in love in the movie is pretty much not there – they just are one scene. Welles also loves a lot of shots of the boat on the water, gliding through paradise, which add nothing really to the narrative. When we get to the courtroom climax – where the main character is on trial for his life, Welles pretty much plays the whole thing as a farce. Welles himself is miscast in the lead – he’d probably be better suited playing Grisby or Bannister – and in a few years, that is exactly who he would have played.

 

So why, then, does The Lady from Shanghai work – and for the most part wonderfully well. Is it simply because Welles is clearly having so much fun – and so is everyone else – that it rubs off on the audience? Is it because the scenes that Welles leaves out are pretty much the scenes that aren’t really needed anyway, so what you’re left with is what you’d remember anyway? Is it just that amazing climax?

I’m honestly not sure. What I do know is that The Lady from Shanghai isn’t quite like anything else that Welles – or anyone really – has ever made. It’s part of the Columbia Noir collection on the Criterion Channel right now, and I’ve been churning through all of them right now. For the most part, they are fun, fast, B-movie – decent noirs, that hit the notes you expect. And then comes The Lady from Shanghai, and it’s like a noir from a different planet. I love it.

Classic Movie Review: The Apartment (1960)

The Apartment (1960) 

Directed by: Billy Wilder.

Written by: Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond.

Starring: Jack Lemmon (C.C. Baxter), Shirley MacLaine (Fran Kubelik), Fred MacMurray (Jeff D. Sheldrake), Ray Walston (Joe Dobisch), Jack Kruschen (Dr. Dreyfuss), David Lewis (Al Kirkeby), Hope Holiday (Mrs. Margie MacDougall), Joan Shawlee (Sylvia), Naomi Stevens (Mrs. Mildred Dreyfuss), Johnny Seven (Karl Matuschka), Joyce Jameson (The Blonde), Willard Waterman (Mr. Vanderhoff), David White (Mr. Eichelberger), Edie Adams (Miss Olsen). 

 

If I had to recommend a “classic” movie director to someone who was looking to start to get in older Hollywood movies and looking for a place to start, I think that director would be Billy Wilder – and The Apartment may well be the film I suggest they start with. It’s a testament to just how great Wilder is that The Apartment is probably not even his best film – that would be Sunset Blvd. (1950) or even his funniest – that would be Some Like It Hot (1959). And you can go down the line to many great films he made – Double Indemnity (1944), The Lost Weekend (1945), Ace in the Hole (1951), Stalag 17 (1953), Witness for the Prosecution (1957) and One, Two, Three (1961) – and even that list is missing some classics. His films don’t seem to age – you could change few details of The Apartment, and pretty much have a film you could set today, probably in some tech company in Northern California, and you wouldn’t have to change much else. This is a comedy – one of the best American comedies of all time – but it sticks with you because of the sense of loneliness and sadness that runs through the entire film. It’s anchored by two of the best performances by two legendary actors – Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine – and yes, it is a romantic comedy. But it’s a romantic comedy about two adults – realists in an imperfect world, and when the credits role, after the perfect closing line, you have no idea whether or not it will work out between them. But you want it to – they seem right for each other. And they take their time making that decision – with their heads, as much as with their hearts.

 

Lemmon plays C.C. Baxter, a cog in the machine of a massive insurance company. He’s good at his job and ambitious to boot – part of that ambition has led him to lend out his bachelor apartment to executives in the company, looking for place to take their mistresses before getting on the train at night and returning to their wives. Baxter has a crush of Fran Kubelik (MacLaine), the pretty elevator operator in the building – not knowing that she was once, and will be again, the mistress of the big boss – Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray) – who will eventually call on Baxter for use of that famous apartment.

 

So the famous Wilder cynicism is baked right into the concept of The Apartment. Neither Baxter nor Frank or naïve kids who fall head over heels in love. They are sad, lonely people. Wilder sets the film during Christmas, usually a cheerful time, but also chose to shoot it in black-and-white, which drains all those cheery lights and decorations of their color and sheer. Baxter has no family of any kind – at one point, he shares how he spent last Christmas day, and it’s downright pathetic. Fran does have a sister – she lives with her, and her brother-in-law, but that doesn’t stop the loneliness for sinking in. They are both “company men” in their way – and looking to climb the ladder in their own ways – him by getting promoted, her by marrying the boss. They both love Sheldrake in their own ways – and so much they cannot see what an asshole he is – perfectly played by MacMurray, as the type of guy who always gets what he wants, and seems offended when he doesn’t.

 

This was a key film for both Lemmon and MacLaine. Lemmon had already won an Oscar at this point – for his manic performance in Mister Roberts (1955), and had become a bigger star with his role in Wilder’s Some Like It Hot the year before. MacLaine had been doing comedies as well – and delivered a great, tragic turn in Vincente Minelli’s Some Came Running (1958) prior to The Apartment – which earned her the first Oscar nomination of her career. They are both brilliant here – both nominated for Oscars (Lemmon lost to Burt Lancaster, who finally won for Elmer Gantry, she to Elizabeth Taylor, who finally won for Butterfield 8) – but the roles propelled towards their future careers, where they would continue to be great. There is some shared DNA for Lemmon here between C.C. Baxter, and his last great performance – as Shelley Levine in Glengarry Glen Ross (1992) – the once great salesman, now aging and incapable of closing. MacLaine would age into greater roles as well – she wouldn’t win an Oscar until Terms of Endearment (1983), not so much a similar character, except that it’s clear that both of these women had seen some things, been hurt, learned, and then kept going.

 

The key scenes in The Apartment as far as the romance goes are odd – in that they come in the wake of a Fran’s suicide attempt, in the apartment, that she doesn’t know is Baxter’s (she assumes Sheldrake will find her). They fall in love while she recuperates. And yet, they don’t fall into each other’s arms at the end – they actually both go back to Sheldrake for a while, needing one last kick in the teeth before they are ready for each other. Which brings you to one of the most perfect endings in cinema history. It’s the ending you want, the ending you feel you deserve, and its sweet and funny. But it also somehow manages to fit in as the perfect ending to this cynical, adult romantic comedy. How Wilder and company pulled it off is nothing short of a miracle.

Classic Movie Review: The Haunting (1963)

The Haunting (1963) 

Directed by: Robert Wise.

Written by: Nelson Gidding based on the novel by Shirley Jackson.

Starring: Julie Harris (Eleanor Lance), Claire Bloom (Theodora), Richard Johnson (Dr. John Markway), Russ Tamblyn (Luke Sanderson), Fay Compton (Mrs. Sanderson), Rosalie Crutchley (Mrs. Dudley), Lois Maxwell (Grace Markway), Valentine Dyall (Mr. Dudley), Diane Clare (Carrie Fredericks), Ronald Adam (Eldridge Harper). 

 

I’ve said before that I’ve never been one for ghost stories – I don’t believe in ghosts, and for the most part, ghost story movies don’t much scare me, because it’s the same thing again and again – and unlike the horror movies that really do scare me, I can never project myself into those situations – never really feel that fear, so it all becomes an exercise. That’s probably why it took me so long to watch The Haunting from 1963 – considering my many to be the greatest ghost story movie of all time. And now, having seen it, I can only agree with that assessment – but with a caveat. It’s certainly one of the greatest of its kind ever made – but it works that well because it may not be a ghost story at all.

 

The movie is based on Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House, and is about a group of four people, who go to the damned house to “study” it for a few days. The house is already old, but has been cursed ever since it was built – its owners die mysteriously, or are driven mad, etc. The leader is Dr. John Markway (Richard Johnson), who is a real doctor, who sometimes indulges his interest in the paranormal, much to the chagrin of his wife and those around him. He is joined at the house by Luke Sanderson (Russ Tamblyn) – who will one day inherit Hill House, and more important two women. Theodora (Claire Bloom) is a psychic. Eleanor (Julie Harris), the real protagonist of the movie, doesn’t have any special skills – but is sensitive herself, believing she has already had contact with ghosts in her childhood.

 

The movie is about these four people in the house together, as strange things start happening. All of those things feed into Eleanor’s already shaky psyche – so much so that the movie can be read in two very different ways – one that the house is legitimately haunted, and the other being that it is all a projection of Eleanor’s increasing mental breakdown. It is also quite possible that Hill house isn’t haunted – that Eleanor is – and she brings those ghosts along with her.

 

The film was directed by Robert Wise – who made it between two films for which he’d win Best Director Oscars – West Side Story (1961) and The Sound of Music (1965) – although this film couldn’t be more different than those big budget, all singing, all dancing epics. This is a pared down horror movie, shot in beautiful, spooky black-and-white, almost all in that house, with just these four people. The “ghosts” in the film are nothing but sounds – persistent knocking, perhaps a door handle jiggling, and cold spots in rooms. The film could easily have been made on the cheap.

 

All of those tricks that Wise and his crew work – and wonderfully so, even if they have become a cliché in the decades since. They work in part because they are at the service of a story that is less concerned with ghosts, than in its characters. Russ Tamblyn is in fine form as the cynical, rich playboy who wants to dismiss everything. Johnson gives off the right air of fatherly concern and intelligence. But it’s Bloom and Harris are particularly great. Bloom barely tries to hide the fact that she is playing Theodora as a lesbian – it is what drew her to role in the first place, and it’s perhaps another example of people not taking horror films seriously, so you can sneak in things you wouldn’t get away with elsewhere. It isn’t a judgmental performance either – but one in which Bloom is very in tune with her character. All of these characters, and how they act though, end up feeding into Harris’ increasing breakdown – sneaking up on her. Harris and Bloom are truly great in the film.

 

That is what I will remember about The Haunting. Yes, Wise and company devise brilliant strategies to keep the tension up, and to scare you with nothing more than some clanging pipes. But like all great horror films, there is more here than that – it digs deep into Eleanor’s fractured, repressed psyche – which may be worse than the ghosts.