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THE LITTLE STRANGER
Director: Lenny Abrahamson Cast: Ruth Wilson, Domhnall Gleeson, Will Poulter, Charlotte Rampling, Liv Hill MPAA
Rating: Running Time: 1:51 Release Date: 8/31/18 (limited) |
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Review by Mark Dujsik | August 30, 2018 It's almost too easy to become accustomed to the ways of a horror movie and, perhaps, most especially a story about a haunted house. If one sees just a few of these tales, the basics of the narrative and methods of storytelling start to feel a bit routine. There's some malevolent force working to harass, harm, or kill the occupants of the building, and if there's any question about the source of that force—if it's real, imagined, or supernatural—that question will be answered by the end. The Little Stranger, an adaptation of Sarah Waters' Gothic horror novel, gives us exactly what we'd anticipate in these regards, presenting the mystery of some strange occurrences in an old, decrepit mansion where some terrible tragedies have befallen in the past and seem to keep befalling among its occupants. The story itself is mostly predictable in plenty of ways—except where it really matters. To be sure, this could hardly be categorized as a horror story, except that characters keep going insane and occasionally die while under the roof of this house. A couple of the family members who still live there are convinced that there's some presence in the mansion that makes itself known to them. There are hints of this possibility in the first act of the film, but anything even approaching the typical sort of noises and scares and odd happenings doesn't occur until about an hour into the film. By that point, one might be all but convinced of the identity of the culprit, too, because of general manner of a particular performance, as well as the way that director Lenny Abrahamson stages certain exits and entrances just before and after a strange occurrence within the house. If this were a typical horror movie, such things would signal a major fault in its methods. Before any of the usual horror happenings start, though, Abrahamson and screenwriter Lucinda Coxon spend so much time establishing the protagonist's inner life, the class dynamics of the story's backdrop, and a subdued conflict between those elements that the film doesn't even register as a horror story. Even when it becomes one, we're always aware that something else is at work behind the creaking noises, the slamming doors, and the occasionally bloody consequences of the apparent haunting. The main character is Dr. Faraday (Domhnall Gleeson). He has returned to the small village of his childhood after some time in London. In his youth, he was transfixed by the majesty of Hundreds Hall, where the Ayres family has lived for generations. He recalls attending a party on the estate when he was a child, and that story, of youthful rebellion and surprisingly mature envy coming together, plays out in flashbacks as the present-day story unfolds. The year is 1948, and the once-grand estate has fallen into disrepair and neglect. The times are changing. Great families like the Ayres have become a thing of the olden days, and the new government is taxing them into oblivion to make way for social programs to benefit those who have never had the privileges of the wealthy elite. Hundreds Hall is now under the management of the family's only son Roderick (Will Poulter), a former pilot for the RAF who was severely wounded and scarred during the war. His sister Caroline (Ruth Wilson) oversees what little is left of the day-to-day operations of the house, while their mother Mrs. Ayres (Charlotte Rampling) has nothing left to do but to reminisce about the old days. Faraday becomes the family's persona physician of sorts, helping Roderick with his leg injury and offering a compassionate ear about the estate's troubles. The son wants to sell some the family's land, but the deal seems to fall apart when the Ayres' dog appears to attack the young daughter of one of the potential buyers (The scene is blocked in such a way that we don't know what actually happened). Meanwhile, Faraday and Caroline begin a friendship that moves hesitantly and uncomfortably into a romantic courtship. There's no other way to say it: There is something considerably off about the good doctor. He's a bit too eager to become involved in the affairs of Hundreds Hall. His ways of flirting with Caroline are alternately awkward and too forceful—sometimes both. His bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, and during the times when we see him at rest, he sits in the dimly lit living quarters of his medical office without a thing to occupy his mind. Early on, it's clear that Hundreds Hall and, to a lesser extent, its inhabitants are always at the forefront of that mind. What's fascinating about Coxon and Abrahamson's approach to the character, whom Gleeson plays like a blank slate, is how they tell us everything we need to know about his way of thinking without ever directly communicating it. The entire film is a clever and quite precise translation of the concept of an unreliable narrator in visual terms, using nimble editing to convince us that we've seen one thing—only to make us rethink that, as the inevitable answer to the story's mystery becomes apparent. It's not until the finale that The Little Stranger genuinely comes together. That sense of completion has less to do with a concrete solution. The film doesn't say exactly what has happened, because this isn't a tale involving some cheap twist or last-minute exposition. Coxon and Abrahamson give us all the information we need, but it's more about twisting the concept of a haunted house into a house—and everything that it represents—that has haunted one character for a lifetime. Copyright © 2018 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved. |
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