Horror is probably the most difficult genre to tackle as a filmmaker. Young directors find it enticing because of the absolutes; horror will always have an audience. Horror enthusiasts have an unrelenting stamina. If we like a film, we'll follow its inevitable less-than-stellar sequels because we are completists. We'll pay to see the remakes we claim to hate because we know that great original horror films only come along every thirty years or so. Horror directors sometimes abandon canonical denotations established by the master storytellers at an attempt do to something fresh: vampires immune to sunlight, garlic and holy water, zombies that run, werewolves changing their shape at will, etc. Contemporary horror nuances almost always result in failure because the purists refuse to accept these deviances. But the smart filmmaker will take their cue from John Carpenter: do a great deal with very little, keep the homage to a minimum, save the best scares for the final act, make the audience give a damn about the characters, and always trick the audience into suspense by being creative with the boring parts of your film. This is exactly what Ti West did with 2009's The House of The Devil.
West did almost everything correctly. The House of the Devil meanders through the first two acts with what appears to be fluff dialogue and cheap drama, until the viewer realizes that by the second act, they care about the vulnerable Samantha (played like a veteran by the largely unknown Jocelin Donahue) and her smarter-than-the-usual-victim friend, Megan (the convincing Greta Gerwig). And just at that point of realization, West drops a bomb. The first shocking moment doesn’t play out long enough to feel cliché'; it happens quickly enough to stun the viewer and keep their attention. In fact, by the heart of act two, plot becomes incidental, taking a backseat to tension and anticipation.
The second act's strength comes in the form of Eliot Rockett's cinematography and West's canonical direction. Rockett doesn't do anything with the camera which we haven't seen before, but his visual influences are so numerous and sparse, they feel groundbreaking. Act two features prominently the menacing Dean Cundeyesque use of shadow and light which dominated Halloween. Tobe Hooper's classic chainsaw massacre low angles are employed frequently. Much like Kubrick did in The Shining, West takes an enormous space and achieves a claustrophobic atmosphere through tight shots. West directs his actors convincingly. Genuine tension is established between the protagonist and antagonists before anything frightening even takes place, and this makes the frightening parts genuinely chilling. The House of the Devil may be the twenty-first century's first classic horror entry.
West does nod to his influences in more obvious ways. An obligatory four second clip of Night of the Living Dead is thrown in, nodding at both George A. Romero and Rick Rosenthal's Halloween II. Seventies horror veteran, Mary Woronov, has a supporting role; her presence is undeniable and arresting. The trained ear will hear a snippet of dialogue spoken by Scatman Crothers in The Shining, as well as similar music cues from that film. The House of the Devil winks at horror standards like Rosemary's Baby and The Exorcist, but also includes atmospheric reprises from obscure gems like Allison's Birthday and Dead People (aka Messiah of Evil). None of these tributes threaten The House of the Devil's integrity.
The House of the Devil isn't perfect. In fact, its few flaws fall within West's attempt not to stray too far from canon. The film takes place during the early 1980s: not important or essential to any part of this movie. And if West was intent on dropping sound clips of New Wave staples, he should have put up the money for the rights to the original versions of Greg Khin's "The Break-Up Song," and the pathetic sound-alike instrumental version of The Car's "Moving in Stereo" which serves as the title sequence soundtrack. The Fixx's "One Thing Leads To Another" must have been granted at a discount price: it is the only original version of any 80s tune in the film. The title sequence itself is labored. The freeze-frame made-for-television style credit roll cheapens the overall effect and threatens to misinform the viewer that this film might not deliver. Dee Wallace's cameo was as unessential as the throw-away portion of the plot her character presented. But these are small faults.
The House of the Devil is probably the most authentic horror experience one could hope to have in this dreaded age of re-imaginings. But even if cinemaplexes weren't overrun with remakes, The House of the Devil would still stand out as an above average piece, not just in the horror genre, but in the overall realm of film. This film deserved a wide release, and hopefully it will find its audience through video rentals. The House of the Devil is a film to write home about, so see it and spread the word.
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