THE HAUNTING: 4K Blu-ray (Dreamworks SKG, 1999) Shout!/Scream Factory

In 1963, director, Robert Wise – better known for his excursions into noir and the Hollywood musical, terrorized audiences with The Haunting – a bone-chiller adapted by Nelson Gidding from Shirley Jackson’s 1959 novel, The Haunting of Hill House. As in the novel, the ’63 version depicts paranormal experiences of a small contingent of novice truth seekers invited to ‘investigate’ a purportedly haunted house. But Gidding also perceived the story from the vantage of our central protagonist, Eleanor Lance, suffering a nervous breakdown, despite Jackson’s insistence she had penned a supernatural yarn of suspense without any psycho-babble to intrude upon the terror. A smash hit in its day, The Haunting has remained high on film critic’s ‘best’ lists for decades, and, as recent as 2010, ranked among the top 20 horror movies ever made. Interesting, then to reconsider Jan de Bont’s remake from 1999 – a picture, universally panned by the latter-age mandarins as cheap drivel of the ‘shock and revile’ ilk, with bad acting to boot, and a slew of Razzie nominations to prove it.  Because The Haunting (1999) is hardly a ‘bad’ movie, and, in hindsight, it actually does provide for some rather terrifying moments, albeit, heavily laden in CGI. These are meant to embellish, yet strangely to diminish production designer, Eugenio Zanetti’s intriguing, oft uncanny interiors for Hill House (one of them, so elephantine, it was built, at a cost of £8 million or $13 million U.S., inside the hangar once to have housed Howard Hughes’ Spruce Goose). Hill House is a grandly decaying monument to an overly indulgent and morally bankrupt robber baron of yore whose poltergeist – presumably – still haunts its halls.

De Bont’s The Haunting is a mess of horror cliches. Ironically, this hardly matters as Zanetti’s uber-dark Hill House overtakes the story, and, in fact, generates its own theatrics with enough visual aplomb, easily to supplant the picture’s lack of substance with oodles of unease-inducing style. Exteriors were all shot at Harlaxton Manor in Nottinghamshire, an architectural marvel, today functioning as a satellite campus for the University of Evansville, Indiana. The fanciful interiors in the movie, however, are pure Hollywood hokum a la Zanetti’s grand imagination run wild. But the premise, that a marginally unethical psychology prof, Dr. David Marrow (Liam Neeson) has brought together a trio of insomniacs, merely to satisfy his own insidious curiosity for a pre-programmed experiment into the mechanics of fear, is very weakly realized in this remake. As our naïve cohort, fronted by the ‘then’ strikingly handsome Catherine Zeta-Jones, as Theo, goony Owen Wilson (a.k.a. Luke Sanderson) and wallflower, Lili Taylor (this version’s Eleanor – foreshortened to ‘Nell’) begin to search and sift through this mediaeval abode, terrifying things begin to occur. Initially, the prime suspect for this terror fest is Marrow. In what is perhaps the most contrived of plot twists, Marrow’s assistants are spirited away the first night out – one, injured, the other, taking her to hospital, leaving Marrow to go it alone with his three neurotic patients.

Lili Taylor – ironically given the meatiest part in the pic – illustrates what a solid actress can do with the scantiest of entrails masquerading as ‘a role’. Her declaration, “I can either be a victim or a volunteer” is uttered with grave conviction. Thus, we can steadily buy into her character’s threadbare journey of self-discovery. Alas, her two costars, unaccustomed to having sustain a part on sheer acting prowess alone, virtually drown in the mire of CGI that immediately dogs them. Playing on her newly formulated screen presence as a ‘sexpot’, Catherine Zeta-Jones slinks about the opening scenes with never-to-be-explored bisexual undertones, then perverts this artificially contrived image by slipping into full Wonder Woman mode as the story’s chronic crusader. Owen Wilson, whose ‘appeal’ I have never quite understood, and, bashed in and bent nose has always distracted me from investing in virtually any performance he is attempting to render, herein gets fitted into the role of the ‘typical guy’ – fit for the grunt work of exploring this vigorous and demented tomb, but not much beyond. And what of Liam Neeson, whose professor devolves merely into a clumsily construed deus ex machina, inadvertently to restore Eleanor to these remnants from her discarded past?

Ultimately, the house has more of a personality than any of these stars. Hence, Zanetti manages, with considerable ease and cleverness, to create genuine character and more than a modicum of menace lurking around every corner of Hill House’s decaying edifice. A rickety spiral staircase, as example, plays host to a paralyzing moment of danger, while the sparsely decorated conservatory, full of entwined dead vines and a dried out fountain whose statuary suddenly comes to life, creates ominous appeal, original and affecting in just the sort of deceptively squeamish ways to fit into the mid-90’s horror milieu, though never quite to escape its cheapening appeal as a roadshow carnival ‘dark ride’. The Haunting is a bit of a dud and this, almost entirely, is to be blamed on the stick-figure characterizations half-baked in David Self’s rebooted screenplay. We are only marginally invested in Eleanor’s story, and completely disassociated from the perils pursuing her investigative cohorts. So, the core of the picture is hollow, and silly. For all its considerable flaws, The Haunting has ‘staying power’. Fair enough, some truly awful movies linger in the imagination long after the pall from their actual experience has otherwise faded into obscurity. But in The Haunting’s case, the lure is more intense than the experience for seeing it again.

The Haunting was plagued by many delays. In its preliminary stages, the project was attached to Dimension Films, with Wes Craven as its director. Once shooting began, another artistic fracture occurred when its original cinematographer, Caleb Deschanel, suddenly departed, citing creative differences. He was replaced by Karl Walter Lindenlaub who amply filled the void with interesting compositions, frequently overridden by anesthetizing special effects that, more often diffused, rather than added to the overall ambiance.  Screenwriting duties were initially handed to eminent horror author, Stephen King. Ironically, King’s adaptation failed to impress, although King would later rework some of his cues here into 2002’s miniseries, Rose Red. Interestingly, the tagline for The Haunting ‘some houses are born bad’ is a line of dialogue Rose Red’s Dr. Joyce Reardon utters, suggesting King’s influences, although summarily discarded, nevertheless lingered in part in the finished product. De Bont had hoped to use the book’s full title, The Haunting of Hill House, for the movie, but was discouraged by executive producer, Steven Spielberg, who reminded his director their movie was in competition with 1999’s similarly titled, House on Haunted Hill. And thus, ‘The Haunting’ it would remain. A haunting we will go…a haunting we will go. Heigh-ho, the derry-o, a haunting we will go!

As negotiations failed to secure the rights to Robert Wise’s original, the new version could not reference even a single aspect of the 1963 thriller without facing a lawsuit. Spielberg was never entirely satisfied with De Bont’s final cut, and, although rumored at the time, there is no evidence to suggest Spielberg took it upon himself to either re-shoot or re-cut the picture to his own specifications. Nevertheless, throughout the shoot, The Haunting steadily morphed away from its more intricate backstory. Evidently, De Bont believed the focus should remain on the triumvirate of main characters. Lost in this shuffle were ‘the Dudleys’ – Hill House’s suspiciously reticent caretakers. Shot, though later excised was a moment where Dr. Marrow (Liam Neeson) and Nell (Lili Taylor) are conversing in the greenhouse, intruded upon by Mr. Dudley (Bruce Dern) who tells about Hugh Crain's (Charles Gunning's) first wife, Rene (Kadina de Elejalde). She hanged herself. In another scene, after Nell realizes Marrow is not behind the spooky intrigues, she strides into the main hall, witnessing the Dudleys about to depart for the day. At first, Mr. Dudley holds the door open. However, when Nell declines, Mrs. Dudley (Marian Seldes) quietly shuts the door and it locks behind her. Another absent ‘friend’ is David Watts - Dr. Marrow’s assistant. Watts ought to have played an integral part in the movie’s mounting dread, as his arrival in a Toyota, observed by Nell from a window, is immediately followed by his disappearance. The others search for him, but to no avail, only to discover his body near the end of the movie, dangling from statuary near the greenhouse pool. The movie’s original ending, where Marrow publishes his findings with a dedication to all those who died at Hill House, was left on the cutting room floor, presumably, as it was considered anticlimactic to all that had gone before it.

The Haunting opens with Eleanor ‘Nell’ Vance, a brutal insomniac, chronically plagued by memories of her deceased mother whom she tended to as an invalid for the past eleven years. Nell’s sister, Jane (Virginia Madsen) and her husband, Lou (Tom Irwin) have since inherited their mother’s house and promptly cast Nell out in order to liquidate its assets and sell off the property. Facing homelessness, the unemployed Nell agrees to an intriguing insomnia study being conducted by Dr. David Marrow at a secluded manor in the Berkshires of western Massachusetts. Arriving at the somber abode, Nell is greeted by the Dudleys and introduced to two other participants, Luke Sanderson and Theodora (Theo for short). Unbeknownst to all, Marrow's real interests are in their psychological response to fear. During their first night’s stay, Marrow regales his subjects with the tale of Hugh Crain — a 19th-century textile tycoon who built the estate for his wife in expectation of establishing a large dynasty of heirs. Alas, all the couple’s children were stillborn.  Seemingly damned, Crain’s wife, Renee killed herself before construction on the house was completed. Thereafter, Crain became a recluse. When one of Marrow's assistants declares there is more to the story, she is severely wounded in a freak ‘accident,’ immediately taken to hospital, thus leaving Marrow alone with his guinea pigs on which to further conduct his experiment. 

After the reluctant foursome retire for the night, a mysterious force attempts to intrude on Theo and Nell's slumber, banging on the walls and doors. Nell believes she sees the spirits of the Crain children lingering in shadows, behind curtains and in other darkened recesses of her room and the adjoining halls. Studying Crain’s formidable portrait, its face suddenly turns skeletal, with the words ‘Welcome Home Eleanor’ materializing in blood across its canvas. Believing she is the brunt of a wickedly cruel joke Nell confronts Theo and Luke. However, each denies they had any involvement in these events. Instead, they accuse Nell of being an attention seeker. Determined to prove the house is haunted, Nell unearths Crain's secret study and discovers his appalling exploitation of children to work in his cotton mills. He also took several of these unfortunates into his home, only to tortured and murder them, incinerating their bodies in the fireplace. It is these ghosts who remain trapped within the walls of Hill House. Nell’s investigation also reveals Crain had a second wife - Carolyn, from whom she is descended. Believing Nell is suffering a nervous breakdown, Marrow comes clean about his real purpose in bringing everyone together.

After one of the statues in the conservatory comes to life and attempts to drown him, Marrow concurs the house is cursed. But by now, Nell is invested in her own ‘homecoming.’ Theo offers to let Nell move in with her. Alas, Nell is determined to somehow liberate the ghosts of Hill House from their purgatory. At this juncture, Marrow orders his guests to prepare their leave. The house has other ideas. Crain’s ghost shutters its doors and windows, preventing their departure. Luke attacks the portrait, causing Crain’s deranged spirit to take possession and drag Luke into the fireplace where he is decapitated. Marrow and Theo flee, leaving Nell – suddenly courageous - to confront the demonic master of the house.  As Crain’s métier is fear. But Nell denies him this one luxury. This weakens Crain’s ghost and he is consigned to a decorative bronze door knocker. Nevertheless, Crain drags Nell behind him. Only now, the ghosts of the children Crain wronged arise to offer their protection to Nell. As she dies, her image is ingrained in the bronze door, very much resembling her late mother. This likeness is surrounded by all the happy children whom she has helped liberate from Crain’s tyranny.  As dawn crests over the tree tops, the Dudleys return to Hill House, discovering a deeply shell-shocked Marrow and Theo silently walking away.

The Haunting is not without its virtues, and certainly, far more entertaining than its five Golden Raspberry nominations wound suggest. Alas, it remains an imperfect entertainment, largely due to its heavy reliance on brightly lit CGI visual effects in lieu of creating genuine terror out of what remains ‘unseen’ in the dark, in the night…yada, yada, yada. The picture is oddly cast. Owen Wilson is particularly uncomfortable and situated as the token martyred male figure, destined to fall prey for his own dumb – if valiant – attempts at protecting the victimized women in this tale. Catherine Zeta-Jones is as clumsily placed. Theo requires little of her – if any – genuine acting capabilities. Liam Neesen’s turn as ‘the good doctor’ is dull, Neesen’s incapability to emit even an ounce of enthusiasm resulting in a stultifying performance unworthy of his otherwise formidable talents put to better use elsewhere. So, the delights to be had herein derive from Karl Walter Lindenlaub’s cinematography – a plushily sad homage to the rot gorgeously realized in Eugenio Zanetti’s production design. Also, props to Tomas Voth’s art direction and Cindy Carr’s set decoration. It all looks moodily magnificent. A genuine pity more was not done to ensure author, Shirley Jackson’s original ‘spook’ show made its way to the big screen.

The Haunting also serves as something of a woeful reminder of how far the mighty have fallen. Does anyone even remember Jan de Bont today? For a brief wrinkle in time, the Dutch-born cinematographer, director and film producer seemed to have the golden touch and Hollywood firmly by the tail, directing the runaway blockbusters, Speed (1994) and Twister (1996), while also lending his expertise to such megawatt pop-u-tainments as Die Hard (1988), The Hunt for Red October (1990), and Basic Instinct (1992). We must, at least, tip our hats to de Bont’s knack for manufacturing dread in The Haunting. The first half, unencumbered by CGI, is exceptionally sustained with advancing supernatural danger. It is really only the third act that tanks the picture, all the post production meddling and Spielberg’s sudden insistence to have his name as executive producer expunged from the credits before the movie made it into theaters. The other sacrificial lamb here, is Stephen King, whose clever and faithful adaptation of Jackson’s novel was ditched in favor of one of those slickly packaged roller coaster rides, pitched glossy as a summer blockbuster.

So, all of de Bont’s careful character setup in Act I gets turned into Hollywood/horror gumbo in Act III, leaving the cast to scurry – literally – around Zanetti’s gargantuan, yet strangely claustrophobic sets. It is the queasy disconnect between de Bont’s floundering, if sincere, endeavors to remain true to Jackson’s novel, and yet, give the studio what it wants – a bloated horror flick – that eventually undo The Haunting.  So, here comes the CGI – plastered thick with a trowel onto these morphing/stretching/writhing walls of sin.  One of the underrated aspects of the picture is its superior sound design, with deep spatial separations that lend a genuine air of creepy atmosphere, augmented by Jerry Goldsmith’s marvelous underscore. When de Bont lets us merely presume the house is ‘alive’ with spirits from the past, offering a whiff of scandal here, and a loud, ominous and echoing thud over there, we can get a genuine sense something horrific is afoot. It is when the house ‘literally’ comes alive, its cathedral-esque windows suddenly transformed into glowering eyes, that the whole enterprise becomes grotesquely artificial, leaving the ‘ho-hum’ factor to overtake and demolish all the good thrills built up until this imploding finale.

I am really at a loss to explain Paramount’s marketing strategy. They inherited the Dreamworks catalog. Okay. So, a picture once distributed by Universal Pictures became a deluxe ‘Paramount presents…’ Blu-ray release in 2020 – given a franchise promo, reportedly meant to exclusively celebrate Paramount (not Universal’s) illustrious past as a one-time Hollywood heavy-hitter. Okay. And in an era where Paramount has been dabbling with its own native 4K releases, The Haunting – although mastered in 4K, only made it to a 1080p Blu-ray. Okay. So, now, in 2023, we have The Haunting in native 4K. From Paramount? No, Shout! Factory. Huh?!? To suggest Paramount’s home video distribution is a mess these days, mired in ‘rights’ issues or worse, is an understatement. Regardless, Shout! is the recipient of a 4K mastering effort, with Dolby Vision and HDR 10, made 3 years ago by Paramount, supervised by de Bont. How does it look? Spectacular. All of Hill House’s sublime and intricate architecture shows up here. Fine details snap together as they should, and colors are robust, favoring a warm, reddish hue, especially where flesh tones are concerned. Shadow delineation is on point with just the right amount of film grain, appearing indigenous to its source.

Now, for some bad news. There is some minor black crush during the darkest scenes. Is it negligible? Yep. Could it have been eradicated? You bet. Also, given the vintage of the CGI special effects, their overall transparency here looks even more artificial and thin.  We still have only a 5.1 DTS, well represented without going the extra mile to do a 7.1 Atmos. Should’a, could’a, didn’t. Boy, Shout!’s getting’ skimpy. The 4K contains no extras. The Blu-ray, also included herein, loses the ‘Film-maker’s Focus’ featurette from the Paramount Presents… Blu, but retains the scant archival ‘behind the scenes’ featurette. There’s also an interview with Jan de Bont and a theatrical trailer. Bottom line: for those who absolutely love this movie – 4K it and be done with the upgrades. For the rest, the previous Paramount Presents…Blu will suffice. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

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