L'ospite

Greetings again from the darkness. Director Lenny Abrahamson's follow up to his stellar film ROOM (Oscar nominated for Best Picture and Best Director) is based on Sarah Waters graphic novel, and adapted for the screen by Lucinda Coxon (THE DANISH GIRL). Very early on, the film succeeds in giving viewers that "I have a bad feeling" sensation ... usually a very good sign for films in this genre.

The always excellent Domhnall Gleeson stars as Faraday, the local town doctor called out to check on the lone remaining housekeeper at Hundreds Hall. For a couple hundred years, it's been the Ayres family home, and though, in its past, a glorious fixture among Britain's elite, the home, grounds and family themselves are all now little more than a distant memory of their once great selves. When he was a mere lad, Faraday's mum had served on staff, and his memories of the grand palace are jolted by the sight of its current dilapidated state.

The Ayres family now consists of Charlotte Rampling as the matriarch who has yet to move past the death of her beloved daughter Susan so many years ago; Will Poulter as Roderick, the son who was disfigured and maimed during the war; and Ruth Wilson as surviving daughter Caroline, who seems to have surrendered any semblance of life in order to care for her mother, brother, and home ... each in various stages of ill-repair.

This is a strange family who mostly keep to themselves, well, except for Faraday who seems drawn to the family ... or is it the house? Even his romantic interest in Caroline could be seen as an excuse to regularly return to the house. His flashbacks to childhood and a festival held on the estate grounds provide glimpses of his connection, but with Gleeson's mostly reserved façade, we never really know what's going on in his head.

Part haunted house, part ghost story, and part psychological thriller; however, it's really not fully any of these. There seems to be a missing link - something for us to grab hold of as viewers. The film is wonderfully cloaked in dread and looks fabulous - replete with ominous music and a creepy old mansion. Unfortunately those things are accompanied by the slowest build up in cinematic history. "A snail's pace" is too kind as a description. The film is very well acted, but horror films and thrillers need more than atmosphere, otherwise frustration sets in with the viewer. There is little doubt this played much better on the pages of Ms. Waters' book.

Something of an emotional roller coaster. None of the characters are quite what they seem to be, it's almost as if they culture some hope and then dash it to the ground just as the viewer is lulled into a hope of a happy concluson to that particular scene.

Gradually the superficial character of each key player is stripped away to reveal something unexpected about them. The good become villains, and sometimes good again. The supposed villains revealed to be good or just victims of some unseen manipulator.

The story does come to an end. It's not one of those sadistic films where you're left wondering what the hell just happened, but you are left placing the last few pieces of the puzzle together for yourself .

If you're looking for whizz-bang special effect laden offerings that require nothing more than propping your eyelids open for a couple of hours, then look to Hollywood.

British horror/mystery has led the world in high quality intellectually stimulating film making over the last few years, and this is another superb offering that rests well with the likes of "Dark Song" and "Apostle".

I remember when I first saw Paul Thomas Anderson's Vizio di forma (2014) (which I loved), a colleague of mine (who hated it) was unable to grasp why I had enjoyed it so much. I tried to explain that if he had read Thomas Pynchon's 2009 novel, he'd have appreciated the film a lot more, to which he posited, "one shouldn't have to read the book in order to appreciate the film." I think I mumbled something about him being a philistine, and may have thrown some rocks at him at that point. So imagine my chagrin when I watched the decidedly underwhelming The Little Stranger, a huge box office bomb ($417,000 gross in its opening weekend in the US), and easily the weakest film in director Lenny Abrahamson's thus far impressive oeuvre. You see, I really disliked it, but the few people I know who have read Sarah Waters's 2009 novel (which I have not), have universally loved it, telling me I would have liked it a lot more if I was familiar with the source material. To them, I can say only this - "one shouldn't have to read the book in order to appreciate the film." It seems my colleague was right after all. I hate that.

Warwickshire, England, 1948. Dr. Faraday (Domhnall Gleeson) is a country physician obsessed with the opulent Hundreds Hall estate, owned by the aristocratic Ayers family, where his mother worked as a maid. However, by 1948, Hundreds is in a state of disrepair, with the Ayers in serious financial trouble. The house is now home to only four people - Angela Ayers (Charlotte Rampling), matriarch of the Ayers dynasty, and who never recovered from the death of her eight-year-old daughter, Susan; Caroline (Ruth Wilson), her daughter; Roderick (Will Poulter), Angela's son, a badly-burned RAF pilot suffering from PTSD; and Betty (Liv Hill), the maid. When Betty takes ill, Faraday is summoned, soon ingratiating himself into the family, and becoming a semi-permanent presence in Hundreds. However, as mysterious things start to happen, Angela becomes convinced the spirit of Susan is with them. Meanwhile, Faraday and Caroline become romantically involved.

Aspiring to blend elements of "big house"-based mystery narratives such as Jane Eyre (1847), Great Expectations (1861), and Rebecca (1938), with more gothic-infused ghost stories such as "The Fall of the House of Usher" (1839), The Turn of the Screw (1898), and The Haunting of Hill House (1959), The Little Stranger is not especially interested in the supernatural aspects of the story per se. In this sense, Abrahamson and screenwriter Lucinda Coxon have, to a certain extent, created an anti-ghost story which eschews virtually every trope of the genre. More a chamber drama than anything else, the film has been done absolutely no favours whatsoever by its trailer, which emphasises the haunted house elements and encroaching psychological dread. Indeed, to even mention the supernatural elements at all is essentially to give away the last 20 minutes of the film, as this is where 90% of them are contained.

The main theme of the film is Faraday's attempts to ingratiate himself with the Ayers family, to transform himself into a fully-fledged blue blood, even when doing so goes against his medical training; his commitment to his own upward mobility is far stronger than his commitment to the Hippocratic Oath. He is immediately dismissive of the possibility of any supernatural agency in the house, and, far more morally repugnant, he does everything he can to convince those who believe the house is haunted that they are losing their minds, that the stress of what has happened to the family has pushed them to the point of a nervous breakdown. He's also something of a passive-aggressive misogynist, telling Caroline, "you have it your way - for now", and "Darling, you're confused". For all intents and purposes, Faraday is the villain of the piece, which is, in and of itself, an interesting spin on a well-trodden narrative path.

However, for me, virtually nothing about the film worked. Yes, it has been horribly advertised, and yes, it is more interested in playing with our notions of what a ghost story can be, subverting and outright rebelling against the tropes of the genre. I understand what Abrahamson was trying to do, however, so too does The Little Stranger shun the standard alternative to jump scares - creeping existential dread - and as a result, it remains all very subtle, and all very, very boring - the non-supernatural parts of the story give us nothing we haven't seen before, and the supernatural parts simply fall flat.

One of the main issues for me is Faraday's emotional detachment. I get that he's the ostensible villain, so we're not meant to empathise with him, and, as an unreliable narrator, his very role is to objectively undermine the subjective realism of the piece. However, Gleeson practically sleepwalks his way through the entire film, getting excited or upset about (almost) nothing; on a stroll through the estate with Caroline, she apologises for dragging him out into the cold, and he replies, "Not at all. I'm enjoying myself very much", in the most dead-tone unenthusiastic voice you could possibly imagine, sounding more like he is having his testicles sandpapered. So I know detachment is precisely the point, but, firstly, we've seen Gleeson play this exact same character before - all brittle, buttoned-down intellectualism - and secondly, he comes across as more robotic than detached, and after twenty minutes, I was thoroughly bored of him, and just stopped caring.

Partly because of this, and partly because of Coxon's repetitive script, the film is just insanely and unrelentingly dull. Now, I don't mind films in which nothing dramatic happens (The Rider - Il sogno di un cowboy (2017), which barely even has a plot, is one of my films of the year), but in The Little Stranger nothing whatsoever happens at all, dramatic or otherwise. Instead, the script just goes round and round, through the motions; "this house is haunted" - "no, you're just tired" - "you're probably right" - "I am, have a lie down" - "okay. Wait, this house is haunted" - "no, you're just tired", etc.; wash, rinse, repeat. The pacing is absolutely torturous, and I certainly envy anyone who was able to get more out of the narrative than the opportunity to take a nap.

One thing I will praise unreservedly is the sound design. Foregrounded multiple times, this aspect of the film often becomes more important than the visuals. For example, sound edits often bridge picture edits in both directions (L Cuts and J Cuts). Similarly, we repeatedly experience the sound of one scene carrying over into the image of another well beyond the edit itself, so much so that it becomes a motif, suggesting a distortion of reality. Just prior to a dog attack, the sound becomes echo-like and the picture starts to move in and out of focus, as the camera shows Faraday in a BCU, suggesting he is becoming unglued from his environment. This also happens later on with Roderick, just prior to a fire. Perhaps the most interesting scene from an aural perspective is a scene in the nursery near the end of the film. As Angela examines the room, the distorted and difficult to identify sound becomes unrelenting (it is easily the loudest scene in the film). However, as the other characters run through the house towards the noise, all sound is pulled out almost entirely, with only the barest hint of footfalls detectable. This is extremely jarring and extremely effective, working to emphasise the dread all of the characters are by now feeling.

However, beyond that, this just did nothing for me; there was nothing I could get my teeth into, I didn't care about any of the characters beyond the first half hour, the social commentary was insipid and said nothing of interest, the supernatural aspects are so underplayed as to be virtually invisible, and, most unforgivably, the film is terminally boring. Maybe if I'd read the book...

The Little Stranger is a little stranger than most horror films: It's more psychological drama and less shock. It's an understated nerve racker that eats away at your anticipation till you're a part of the haunted house that captures most entering it. A pleasant summer thrill.

Post WWII 1948, Dr. Faraday (Domhnall Gleeson) takes a call at Hundreds Hall, where mom was a maid and where the Ayres family is on its way to extinction, slowly and horror-film ominously. Yet there are no jump scares, no ugly beings, just the sense that things are not right, with a strange sound or rabid dog to keep the fans on edge.

As in Poe's Fall of the House of Usher, the Hundreds Hall's decay is figurative for the decline of family as well, no better example being the scarred and crippled Roderick (remember Roderick Usher?) from war, who is on the brink of letting the estate go to sale while he feels a bad karma in the house.

At the same time, faraday is telling us in flashback about his strange attachment to the estate from an early childhood party on its lawn after WWI, where celebrating the end of the war to end all wars introduced his working class sensibility to high class and a little girl who doesn't go away after she dies.

She seems to be the little stranger who still haunts Mrs. Ayres (Charlotte Rampling). At any rate, the film suggests an almost abnormal attachment by Faraday and a death struggling attachment by the rest of the family including his love interest, daughter Caroline (Ruth Wilson). From here the story takes some formulaic turns, no surprises.

Yet, The Little Stranger has a Brit restraint that lends itself some nice horror moments. Especially effective is director Lenny Abrahamson's, and his writers,' unwillingness to show too much or give answers even at the end. Classy little film.

This movie about a haunting may disappoint a lot of fantasy and horror buffs; no special effects, no appearance of a ghost, no gore (or so little) .Essentially an atmosphere movie, where a force (perhaps stemming from a child dead well before his age ) is slowly but inexorably doing away with the members of a doomed family; the son, a maimed disfigured fighter in the war,is broke and has to sell acres of his properties .

A doctor,a scientific mind ,does not believe in a curse ;when he was a child,he used to come to the castle in its heyday ; in love with the daughter,he tries to save her from a doomed fate ;the mother (a wonderful Charlotte Rampling,who really ages gracefully ) seems to live in another age .

Close to Henry James ' world, it's a movie which grows on you ,but it demands your undivided attention.