The Haunting (1963, Robert Wise) (Patreon)

63/100

Spoilers ahoy.

Had completely forgotten that I reviewed the 1999 remake (or later adaptation of Jackson's novel, if you prefer) for EW, over 20 years ago. Here's the complete text:

You know a movie has failed miserably when you find yourself muttering such faint praise as ”Wow, that was some really excellent…art direction!” In The Haunting, former cinematographer Jan De Bont has transformed Shirley Jackson’s elegant, unnerving psychodrama The Haunting of Hill House (previously made in 1963—go rent that) into a laborious paean to outlandish interior decoration.

That micro-capsule (supplemented by behind-the-scenes factoids that I won't bother quoting), which probably took less than five minutes to write, paid $100, which is what I now receive for like 600-800 words. Didn't know how good I had it back then. Anyway, it's worth mentioning because this version, though unquestionably far superior, likewise mostly impressed me with its elaborately foreboding sets, along with such impressive pre-digital effects as the bulging door. To be sure, Wise's visual sense, unlike De Bont's, transcends mere technical proficiency; The Haunting '63 arguably peaks with its opening montage, which lays out Hill House's sinister past with chilling economy. Quiet horror really doesn't get much better than the shot of a young woman walking up that spiral staircase carrying a coiled rope, with the camera panning left as she exits the frame and her lower body suddenly dropping into view from above and dangling. Still, it's the staircase itself that's truly memorable, along with numerous other elements of Hill House's busy decor. "[Movie's primary location] is essentially a character" has become a cliché, but in this case there are numerous onscreen references to the house being alive and desirous. No surprise, then, that it makes by far the strongest impression.

Now, I haven't seen the recent Mike Flanagan miniseries, which appears to have been quite well received. Maybe he solved the basic problem, which is that Jackson's novel—like most literature!—doesn't translate particularly well to a visual medium, because almost everything of importance unfolds within the confines of somebody's purely private thoughts. Eleanor's interior monologue is so crucial that screenwriter Nelson Gidding had little choice but to include huge chunks of it as voiceover narration; this "works," in the sense of getting across what it needs to, but inevitably feels kinda clumsy.* Or overly explicit, perhaps: Horror thrives on the imagination, and The Haunting of Hill House combines intimate knowledge of Eleanor's damaged psyche with each reader's individual mental image of the mansion. Here, we're seeing the scary stuff and hearing her thoughts, which leaves us bereft of any void into which we can project our own specific nightmare. It does help that threats usually arise from behind closed (if bulging) doors, and that Eleanor's weird mix of paranoia and longing is counterbalanced by Theo's passive-aggressive psychic sniping, Luke's jocular skepticism, etc. And, again, there's no doubt that Wise delivers the spooky from a purely visual standpoint. But this still falls squarely into the second item I thought of when compiling my "standard complaint" checklist: "Source material's greatness is intrinsic to its original medium." Gidding does his best to honor Jackson's ending, but this just doesn't quite work on film:

With what she perceived as quick cleverness she pressed her foot down hard on the accelerator; they can't run fast enough to catch me this time, she thought, but by now they must be beginning to realize; I wonder who notices first? Luke, almost certainly. I can hear them calling now, she thought, and the little footsteps running through Hill House and the soft sound of the hills pressing closer. I am really doing it, she thought, turning the wheel to send the car directly at the great tree at the curve of the driveway, I am really doing it, I am doing this all by myself, now, at last; this is me, I am really really really doing it by myself.

In the unending, crashing second before the car hurled into the tree she thought clearly, Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this? Why don't they stop me?

I should note that Gidding shifts the order of her thoughts slightly—in the film, she wonders (in VO) "Why don't they stop me?" and then goes into the "really doing it myself" part, which eliminates her horrible final-instant awareness. But what actually matters is the difference between reading that stream of consciousness, followed by the chapter simply ending, and hearing it as an aural thought bubble while actually watching Eleanor suicidally drive into the tree. The latter conveys the same information, but it's the former that's genuinely haunting.

* Speaking of behind-the-scenes factoids: "Inelegant" is the word I wanted to use there, but I'd already referred to the novel as "elegant" in my EW capsule (which I can't revise). You'd be amazed to learn how much of my writing time is spent avoiding such repetition. I'd estimate that 35% involves just crafting alternatives that don't use the same preposition twice in quick succession; if I type e.g. "refers to her tendency to," you can bet that the next couple minutes of my life are gonna be annoying. Even though that probably bugs nobody but me. 

Update: And then after posting this I noticed that one sentence featured two phrases separated by a semicolon, one of which ended with “proficiency” and the other of which ended with “efficiency.” The unintentional near-rhyme displeased me, so I’ve now changed the latter to “economy.” Welcome to my life.

Update #2: And now I’ve noticed that “Welcome to my life” echoes “the next couple of minutes of my life” in the previous paragraph. I will not edit that but instead will merely point out that this is a very typical snowball effect that causes me agita.