We Need To Talk About Kevin (2011) Some Are Born Bad

Disquieting.  Disturbing.  Non-linear.  Tense.  Realistic.

While I wouldn't exactly call Lynne Ramsay's 2011 thriller We Need To Talk About Kevin a horror film, there are plenty of aspects about it that are truly horrific, not the least of which is its main premise:  a helpless mother deals with a son that is psychopathic right out of the womb.  Based on Lionel Shriver's 2003 novel, the film takes a winding path towards an incident that is slowly peeled back, onion-skin style.  We, the audience, get clues as to what's going on, but we don't get the full story until near the end.  By that time, though, you'll pretty much guess how the movie will pan out, and it will leave you feeling uneasy and sad.

 

Eva (Tilda Swinton) gives birth to little Kevin, who doesn't seem to bond well with his mother.  She's not exactly Mother of the Year, though, as she is constantly impatient with the odd child.  As an infant, he never stops crying when she's around, but clams up when held by his father, Franklin (John C. Reilly).  At one point during a walk in the city, she pauses for a long while near a jackhammer just to drown out Kevin's constant bawling.  When Kevin gets older, he's a constant challenge, and that's putting it nicely.  He refuses to potty train, and soils his diapers on purpose to tick off Eva.  Fed up, she wrongly throws him against a wall, breaking his arm.  Kevin doesn't tattle on her, but already his manipulative nature kicks in and he lords the incident over Eva.  Eva and Franklin have another baby - unplanned, as the cracks in the marriage continue to widen - but the little girl, Celia, is sweet and every bit the cute kid Kevin isn't.  "Inspired" by a story read to him by Eva, Kevin takes a keen interest in archery, becoming quite adept at it as he grows into a teenager (played with cool evil by Ezra Miller).

 

 

Even years on, Kevin harbors a psychotic disdain for his mother.  Eva feels helpless, as no one, even Franklin, will believe what kind of darkness inhabits Kevin.  Just how dark that abyss in him is grows evident throughout the flashbacks and flash-forwards:  Kevin is imprisoned for something that doesn't come to light until the final act.  Let's just say you don't put a bow and arrows in the hands of an ultra-intelligent, sociopathic teenager with Mommy issues.  The movie slides into this final act with no hint of "surprises" or "twists"...you know what's about to happen, and just like Eva, there's nothing you can do about it.

We Need To Talk About Kevin is like a sneaky nightmare.  It creeps up on you and fills you with dread through the entire film.  It's not a horror film, per se, but what happens in it is horrific and that suspenseful dread I mentioned permeates the whole story to the point where just like Eva, the viewer isn't allowed to feel anything good in this twisted, dream-like world directed with great skill by Lynne Ramsay.  Swinton and Miller are utterly fantastic as mother and son, the helplessness and mental sickness coming out in droves through their expressions.  I should also mention the tremendous job done by Jasper Newell as the younger Kevin.  He effortlessly shows the remorseless and purely psycho leanings of Kevin as a still-diaper-wearing-at-six kid.

Make no mistake:  We Need To Talk About Kevin is not a feel-good movie.  I would say those seeking a hip-hip-hooray movie (or moms-to-be, for that matter) try something a little less bleak.  But still, this is a fine piece of filmmaking that is a study in the building of dread over a ninety-minute span of time.

Next review, I'm writing about something a little less dreary!

Now here's the trailer, which is pretty intense itself:

Insidious (2010) I Blinked And They Switched Movies

You know those dreams where in it, you're on a wild rollercoaster, twists and turns, dips and peaks, the best rollercoaster you've ever been on...and suddenly the dream switches, and you're in a bumper car far too small and you're the only one there not a unicorn driving the cars?

Or is that just me?

That's how I can describe my experience with 2010's Insidious, from the writer Leigh Wannell and director James Wan, the team that brought the world the very original Saw.  I was watching one movie when suddenly it switched to another, and I swear I only blinked.  The first three-fourths of the film was a creepy, atmospheric, and quite excellent haunting story built on the strong acting of Rose Byrne and Patrick Wilson.  The last act was, for me anyway, like that unicorn bumper car dream.  It seemed somewhat related to the rest of the movie, but didn't seem to fit.  Suspense and tension seemed to give way to super-powers and demons from the fringe of Hell.  Don't get me wrong:  combining super-powers and demons would make for a sweet movie, but it didn't seem to gel here.  Take those two elements, make two films featuring those traits, and you've got the potential for two outstanding movies.  As it is, Insidious combined the two and made one mostly good movie, in my opinion.

Josh and Renai Lambert (Wilson and Byrne) have moved into a new house, when strange things begin to happen:  weird noises, their oldest son Dalton being afraid of things in the house, and so on.  Dalton falls off a ladder in the attic while exploring and encounters something frightening.  The next morning, he doesn't wake up and even the doctors are puzzled, as all his tests are normal.  He's in a coma, but not any coma they've ever seen.  Three months pass and mysterious events happen again, increasing in intensity until Renai has a horrifying encounter with what can only be described as a ghost.  She insists they move, and they do.  However, the bizarre spirits follow them.  This time, Josh's mom (Barbara Hershey) calls in an old psychic friend Elise (Lin Shaye) to help determine not only why this is happening, but how it relates to Dalton.  Turns out Dalton's got himself a little super-power:  the ability to project his astral self with ease, and he's been lured too far from his physical body, leaving it open for bidding amongst the restless spirits.  I won't spoil how the rest of the movie goes, as secrets are revealed and a showdown with those spirits takes place in a netherworld known as The Further.  Needless to say, it's an abrupt change from the rest of the film, the way I saw it.

Now before anyone assumes I thought the whole thing was a mess, let me say this:  overall, it was not a bad film.  The acting is very good and the chills through the wonderful first three-quarters of the movie are genuine and well-executed.  The clues leading to the climax were placed well, and we're given great examples of foreshadowing and flashback.  The score by Joseph Bishara consists of both traditional music and jarring noises that lend an unsettling air to the proceedings, and "unsettling" is a good thing to shoot for in this style of film.  I pay attention to how the titles look, and I loved the old-school lettering of the title card.

There were some moments that seemed borrowed or meant as a tribute to other movies, such as Poltergeist (which I'm sure the movie has been compared to, and that's not entirely fair to it) and The Haunting.  Something that struck me was the world of The Further.  I was often reminded of the bleak afterworld glimpsed at the end of Lucio Fulci's The Beyond (see my review of that film here), but with a little less light.  A character hurrying through The Further, lantern in hand, and seeing a house shrouded in pale light and fog reminded me a great deal of the video game series, Silent Hill.  These reminders may not have been intentional on the filmmakers' part, but I couldn't help seeing those other images in my mind as I watched.

Insidious was alright, and I urge people who have been wanting to see to go ahead and see it.  This is just one man's opinion, and really, I didn't hate it.  As I always say, judge for yourself.  Maybe you'll like it, maybe you'll hate it.  That's the beauty of individual tastes:  we all like things to different degrees, and it can make for healthy discussion.

Until next time, enjoy the trailer, and don't wander too far if you're good at astral projection.

Plague Town (2008) Sometimes "Rustic" Means "Creepy"

In the world of horror, if someone has some real estate they call "rustic," you might want to reconsider what that word means. For this reality, it might mean a beautiful, ancient home or a quaint village, but open the doors and you'll find deformed mutants whose nighttime games include torture and sadism. Oh, and the villagers aren't much help either. So go ahead and try to sell me "rustic" in a horror world. I'll stay in my zombie- and evil mutant child-proof shelter, thank you very much.

Plague Town is a neat little creeper penned by John Cregan and David Gregory, and directed by Gregory, about an unhappy family (plus one cheeky British hanger-on) getting caught in the backwoods of Ireland and stumbling upon the residents of the title town. Sounds pretty straightforward and The Hills Have Eyes-ish, doesn't it? Yeah, it's pretty similar in tone to that early Wes Craven offering, but Plague Town stands well on its own.

In a prologue, we see that this unnamed town has had some kind of curse on it that causes its newborns to be deformed, ugly little mutants. A priest declares that the children must die as they're born, but one father stands up and murders the priest, declaring the children will live.

Jumping into the story proper, in a largely unsuccessful family bonding outing to Ireland, father Jerry (David Lombard), fiancee Annette (Lindsay Goranson - who looks like a younger Sigourney Weaver to me), mouthy oldest daughter Jessica (Erica Rhodes), brooding younger sister Molly (Josslyn DeCrosta), and aforementioned cheeky British hanger-on Robin (James Warke) leave a tour bus to explore the countryside, but not without having sniping family battles. Jess and Robin wander off to make out somewhere and cause the family to miss the bus. Solution? You guessed it. Find the nearest sign of civilization and call for help. Yeah, that always works.



Wandering down an old road, the group stumbles onto an abandoned French car, but not after Molly sees a grinning face leering out of the woods like the Joker saying a quick hello. The family takes shelter in the car. Robin decides to swagger off to look for help, and Jess runs off to catch up with him. They hear laughing and discover a quaint little home, empty when they enter. After almost engaging in a game of Slap and Tickle, they hear sounds and investigate, finding a strange farmer who makes odd advances at Jess. When Robin tries to defend her, the farmer shoots Robin in the face. Jess runs and hides in the woods.

Hearing the gunshot, dad Jerry storms off into the foggy night to look for his daughter. Instead, he finds the same quaint little home, now occupied by two giggling, freakish little girls who like to play games. Creepy games with sharp objects. Oh, and piano wire, which leads to a pretty impressive little death scene when they wrap the wire around Jerry's head and...well, Jerry flips his lid. Heh. Yeah, just kick me now.

Back at the car, Molly and Annette hear strange noises, but refuse to go off into the woods. Pretty good idea for the time being, but short-lived. Several mutant children viciously attack them. In one of the more disturbing scenes, one of the children bludgeons Annette into oblivion (read: in the face) with a hubcap. Molly escapes and tears off into the woods.

In the meantime, Robin is somehow still alive with a massive wound to the face. A woman finds him and takes him back to her home so he can meet "Rosemary," her grandmother. The old lady makes strange allusions that Robin can't leave and that he's meant to meet Rosemary. Oh, and he does. She's a sprightly young thing and as evil mutant girls with the intent to mate and kill go, she's fairly hot. She also has no eyes, save for the fake ones attached to the lace mask on her face. When Robin rejects her, wanting to go get help, they decide he's not the one for her anymore. Robin barely gets away, but by then, grandma's calling in the mutant troops.




Jess, in the meantime, has been strapped to a tree and whipped with branches by the kids until they hear the old lady's alarm to flush Robin out of the woods. Two strapping young lads stay behind to play Throw The Sickle At The Girl for a while, until Molly appears and rescues her sister. Angry and scared, the girls fight back with a vengeance, slaughtering the two boys.

Eventually, Rosemary catches up with Robin, and has one of her brethren thrust a stick into his neck, finally killing him. They weave sticks into his face and eyes, then hang up him to throw objects at him. Really, rejection is not handled well in Plague Town.



Molly and Jess work their way into town, where they find a pregnant woman who pleads with them to take her away. Jess and Molly are subdued by townsfolk, who extract blood from them, wondering if they'll be "cleansed" this time. In another daring attempt at escape, Molly, Jess, and the pregnant woman nearly make it out of town before they're overwhelmed on a bridge. When Molly awakens, she's in a room with three other young girls and a baby with no eyes. One girl is speaking French, presumably from the car found earlier. One girl explains that she's had numerous babies by the townsfolk, each a mutant. It's with this horrible realization that Molly now knows she's intended to be a brood mare, one of many in an attempt for this town to have "normal children."

Plague Town is very low-budget, but very impressive with what is done with that budget. No fancy special effects here. You get creepy lighting and reliable suspense to support the ghastly images and occasional gore. There are a few missteps with the whole thing, most notably the script. Some of the dialogue is noticeable, and not in the best way. That said, it's pretty easy to overlook the silly phrases and strange word choices - as well as some of the shaky camera work - when the creepiness and great pacing keep drawing you in, and that's fine with me. What also struck me was the wonderful score by Mark Raskin: minimal, surreal, and reminiscent of Akira Yamaoka's work on the Silent Hill games.

It's a straightforward movie, offputting and creepy at all the right moments. Give it a chance, and you may like it as well.

Hopefully, I won't land the ol' chopper in a town like this. Got enough to worry about with the undead all over the place. Take care out there, survivors, and you out there in Ireland, don't go wandering into "rustic areas" without taking an axe, or a gun, or...well, you know.

The Children (2008)

You know, I can relate to kids. I'm trained to be an elementary school teacher. I can talk to them on their level. I'm somewhat of a big kid myself, as I like video games, superheroes, and fart jokes. But in the world of horror, no one - and I mean no one - is exempt from being an antagonist wielding sharp things. With a title like The Children and a tagline like "You brought them into the world. They will take you out," it should come as no surprise who the antagonists are in this low-budget gem.

Written and directed by Tom Shankland, The Children takes place in the remote English countryside around Christmastime. One family consisting of parents Elaine and Jonah (Eva Birthistle and Stephen Campbell Moore), teenage daughter Casey (Hannah Tointon), middle daughter Miranda (Eva Sayer) and withdrawn youngest Paulie (William Howes), visits their relatives joined by the sisterhood of Elaine to Chloe (Rachel Shelley). Chloe's married to Robbie (Jeremy Sheffield) and they have two tykes of their own, oldest Nicky (Jake Hathaway) and little Leah (Raffiela Brooks). There, all players are in place for the carnage to begin.


Something's not right from the start. Little Paulie is sick, and they pass it off as car sickness. He's quiet, except for banging on a small xylophone. Constantly. Knock it off, Paulie. He gets weirder as the night goes on, even slapping his own father at one point. The other kids are hyper and very much the model of yuppie children. The parents don't do much to calm them down. Casey's the lone exception, a typical pissed-at-the-world teenager. She'd rather be going to a party with her friends, but she's stuck with her relatives. The kids play loudly before settling in for sleep, but Leah coughs up some goop and like a good kid, wipes it on her pillow.

The next day, everyone's playful and no one seems to be sick. And hey, where's that cat? There's a little accident with the sled when Paulie lets it hit Chloe, who spills hot drinks all over Jonah. Jonah gets yuppie-pissy and punishes Paulie while yelling at Casey. Casey's had her fill and enters the greenhouse later to find Robbie having a smoke. There's some bizarre, slightly sexual tension going on that thankfully never goes past this scene, but there is an awkward moment when Chloe walks in and probably assumes the worst.

At dinner, Chloe takes the moment to bring up Casey's forbidden tattoo, but her plan to embarrass her niece never comes to fruition as all the kids go bonkers...crying, yelling, moaning. Like a shared hive-mind or something. Casey's had enough and goes to meet her friend, as they had planned to go to the party all along. The adults are bamboozled, but Robbie takes the kids outside to get them to burn off this weird steam. He gets on a sled, but Nicky pulls a wagon in front of him, causing him to literally get scalped by a hooky, sharpy thing. Blood, blood everywhere, staining the pure white snow. Quite an image, really. The kids freak out again - and I'm telling you, there's a lot of kid-shrieks in this movie so be prepared - and, with the exception of Miranda, bolt off into the woods.

The little tykes go from yuppie-spoiled to Children-of-the-Corn disturbing little nutbars. they cause Elaine to fall off the monkey bars, twisting and breaking her leg in the process. They cut open and insert a freakin' DOLL in the actually-still-alive Robbie's abdomen. It's obvious they did something to that cat, too. They terrorize Casey and Elaine in the greenhouse. Paulie breaks in and assaults them with scissors before being kicked back onto a sharp shard of glass. Yes, a child dies, and the only sensible one in the movie, Casey, sees this as reasonable even though it's her little brother. She's the only one that sees something is wrong with the children.

That doesn't stop Chloe from blaming Casey for all that's happened. Worse, Jonah won't take his daughter's side. Elaine is the only one to believe it all and the sides are split. Chloe takes off into the woods to find her kids while Casey barricades the doors. Panicky Chloe finds her kids - or rather her kids find her - and it's not the best reunion. Well, not for Chloe. They pull her down and stab her in the EYEBALL.

Back in the house, Miranda has crossed over to the dark side. When Casey tries to find the cordless phone, she discovers Miranda hissing and playing "Smash The Cordless Phone." Jonah arrives in the nick of time to misunderstand the situation - and Casey is trying to strangle Miranda after all. Jonah clubs Casey and locks her in the room. This supposedly brilliant guy still can't see what's happening and decides to leave Casey and Elaine, taking Miranda and putting the house in his rearview mirror.

Leah and Nicky return, getting into the house through the dog door and catch up to Elaine on the stairs leading to the room where Casey is trapped. They slowly ascend the stairs to the injured, confused, and defeated Elaine who simply mutters "I can't" when faced with a chance to use the fire poker she scooped up. Casey breaks through the door enough to grab an advancing Nicky and impaling his FACE on sharp door wood. Elaine won't let Casey kill Leah, and they leave in the remaining car.

Down the road, they find Jonah's car, swerved off the road, blood on the windshield. Casey finds Jonah's body buried in the snow, but no Miranda. Oh, wait, there she is, running full tilt at the teenager until Elaine steps on the gas and car checks her daughter into the back of the crashed car in one of the most stunningly-filmed - albeit quick - death scenes I've seen. It just looked, well, crazy.

Suddenly, creeping out of the woods, there are more kids than at a Wiggles concert. They advance slowly, knowingly. It's as if they now know they're in control...of everything. Casey barely makes it back into the car before her mom pops the clutch and leaves the murderous rugrats in the dust.

And, uh, Casey...you're looking a little rough around the edges there...

The Children is a neat little package that starts with a few clues here and there, then steamrolls towards a chilling conclusion. Those clues? When you watch the film, listen closely as to what Jonah does as a living. He helps create inoculations against diseases. It's his youngest that's sick. I assumed that he may have brought some of his work home with him. Places like the CDC and its worldwide cousins are supposed to be airtight against escaping contagions, but no one's perfect. Just ask everyone in "The Stand."

There are a few questions to think about as the movie ends, too, which I always find stimulating if it's done right. Was Casey infected or just really worn out? If the infection starts with the youngest and works its way up, will adults eventually be infected? After seeing this movie, do I still really want to be a teacher?

I was also reminded of Garth Ennis and Jacen Burrows' insanely unsettling comic book series "Crossed," which features a contagion that causes people to turn utterly and completely evil in the most frantic and destructive of ways. The kids share a certain glee in the killing and sadism, much like Ennis' script has people doing. I had just read Crossed #8 right before the movie, so I was in that frame of mind.



Great little movie with some natural acting - the kids are supposed to be spoiled brats - and shots filmed in such a way that you only see quick glimpses of carnage, but the images stick to your mind like drying blood.

Brrr.

I'm out for now and remember, stay away from cities during the outbreak.

Ils a.k.a. Them (2006) Including My Love For A Good Burger

I'm not all zombies and ghosts. So, when I asked Andre Dumas, author of the fantastic horror blog The Horror Digest (see, another shout-out!), to recommend to me some French horror films when I wanted to watch something a little different, she gave me the titles of four offerings. Martyrs was the first. The one I'm about to present was the second. Once again, I was not steered wrong.

A little symbolic segue: back when I lived in Michigan, there was a nearby town called Suttons Bay. In that little hamlet was a restaurant called Boone's Prime Time Pub, and in that restaurant were the absolute best hamburgers known to man. You know when you have the best burger known to man, and then eat burgers that are really good, you still compare them to the BBKTM? For me, Martyrs was that best burger, and Ils (referred to in here by its English name, Them) is that really great burger that gets compared to the original. Long segue, I know, but I'm hungry and burgers are always on my mind.

But, to compare it to Martyrs is really doing it an injustice. Them is an entirely different movie about an entirely different story. It's deftly directed by David Moreau and Xavier Palud, and stars two quite beautiful people in Olivia Bonamy and Michael Cohen. These two could easily be lead actors in Hollywood, and their acting chops more than hold up. Let's dive right in, shall we?

Ah, how idyllic.

As the movie opens, we are treated to a prologue wherein a mother and her teenage daughter argue about the daughter's attitude while driving at night in Romania. The mother swerves to avoid what she thought was a person, and they crash into a pole. They're fine, just shaken, but the minivan has seen better days. When the mother gets out to try fixing the engine somehow, she vanishes from from behind the upraised hood. The daughter, once annoyed by her mother but now worried and frightened, begins to hear sounds. There are whispers, taunting her. Mud collides with a window. The girl tries to phone the police, but is suddenly strangled from behind, although we can't make out who or what it is thanks to the rain.

The next day, we meet French teacher Clementine (Bonamy) as she leaves school for the day and drives home...right past the minivan from the prologue (being hauled off by the police...empty). She lives with her boyfriend Lucas (Cohen) in a really sweet old mansion on the Romanian countryside. Seriously, I wanted that house. It's a nice life: she teaches, and he's a writer. They even sort of have a dog, a stray that wanders by once in a while for food. All they need is a picket fence and they'd be set.

Yeah, not in this flick, babies.

That night, strange things happen. Awakened by her car stereo, Clementine, with Lucas, watches as someone blatantly steals her car. Then come the sounds. Footsteps. Doors opening and shutting. The TV goes on and off. The couple sees things. Flashlights. Fleeting figures. Someone is trying to break into the house, it seems, and they're being frustratingly ninja-like about it. It gets real when a door that Lucas just accidentally broke while swinging at nothing slams shut and puts a good chunk of glass in his leg. He makes it back to the locked bedroom and a waiting, frantic Clementine. All the while, he's glancing back at...what? We, the audience, don't see a thing. But something is there.

Attics are just no good.

Clem and Lucas manage to escape from the bedroom, but only make it to one of the bathrooms (I say "one of" because this house is enormous). From there, Clem figures she can climb into the attic and find a way out. Yeah...um, hey, fellow horror fans, show of hands: do we know how trips to the attic work out in horror movies? That's right. Clem is not alone. Now we're seeing figures. Those feet stalking Clem belong to someone, but who? One of the attackers (we damn well know there are more than one) grabs Clem, but she fights back, causing the person to fall presumably to his or her death. The others, at least three or four of them, don't take kindly to that and step up their pursuit of the couple. They escape into the woods, chased by whooping, strange-noise-making...what? People? Something supernatural? Reaching a fence, Lucas is too injured to go over, so he sends Clem for help. Like the attic, "sending for help" never turns out well for any horror protagonist. Clem is captured and hauled off, but Lucas isn't far behind.

I'll keep it spoiler-free, but from here, we find out more about the attackers. Who they are, or rather what kind of people they are. They aren't who you might think. And even if you guessed semi-right, you're probably still a bit off. That final scene, so innocent and quiet, will still give you the loudest chills because the realization will set in. Even as you read the text which wraps up the story, you'll wonder just why it happened.

A very frantic Clementine...

Some of you will find yourself speculating, "well, I would've kicked some ass." Have you ever felt fear? I mean, real fear? How did you react? Did you puff up your chest, attach a chainsaw to your hand, and quip "Groovy"? Or did you feel nauseous, want to run, want to get away now? Fear does strange things to people. A lucky few can rise up and overcome it, maybe really turn the tables on physical attackers. Most of us will be looking for the nearest escape route, our breath terrifyingly short, the blood drumming in our ears. We'll forget the toughness. We'll just know we have to survive.

This is the second French horror movie in a row that, to me, had outstanding directing and acting going hand-in-hand. It also employed the minimalist approach: few settings, two main actors, and a tension-driven plot. There was relatively little blood in it, so gore fans might be disappointed, but come on...the tension was so solid. We see very little of the antagonists right up until the very last part of the movie, yet we absolutely know they're trouble.

Oh, and the sound. The sound was like another character in the movie. Seriously, when you watch Them, don't just turn out the lights, turn up the volume. Every little creak and step and shuffle is crisp and clean, and that's not even the sudden scary noises.

You know me and my love/fear of underground places.

You know, I still pine for those burgers at Boone's Prime Time Pub (they'll even mix in chopped jalapeños for you), but there have been other burgers almost as delicious that I would recommend to anyone. This burgermovie comes highly recommended from me now. It's quick (74 minutes) and it's tense, topped off with just being well-made.

OK, still hungry. Until next time, lock your doors.

The Changeling (1980)

Even though I have a deep love for the horror genre, it's very rare when something actually reaches below my skin and gives me genuine chills. It's not because what I see is bad - well, sometimes it can be, but we won't worry about that - I've seen some movies, read some books, and subscribe to one comic that is a monthly punch in the gut (Garth Ennis and Jacen Burrow's Crossed). It may be because certain primal images deliver the blow straight to the subconscious fear center and causes the brain to make with the heebie-jeebies.

Welcome to "The Changeling," directed by Peter Medak. This offering from 1980 (the year the Phillies won their first World Series¹) features George C. Scott as John Russell, a composer and university professor who, in the beginning of the film loses his family. They don't just leave. No, they are brutally taken from him in a horrible automobile accident that he witnesses just mere feet away. The movie starts with that. It kicks you in your solar plexus, then backs off to say "I'll wait until you catch your breath."

Eat your heart out, Don Draper.

Without going into too much revealing detail, we get to know John a little better as he slowly recovers from mourning his wife and daughter. He's having trouble, and who wouldn't? He takes a job teaching at the university while he composes music. Living quarters? Well, there's the rub. He rents a house suggested to him by a nice lady, Claire (Trish Van Devere, Scott's real-life wife), from the historical society. Seems like a nice place. I'd live there.

Things start happening, though. A strange, rhythmic banging sound echoes through the house. Water taps turn on by themselves. John sees the image of a young boy in the water of the tub. An attic window spits glass at John outside. He gets disturbed, but also curious. Seems to be strange, especially the laughter. The attic itself is hidden behind boards, and when he opens it, it appears to have been left in its state since 1909. There's a wheelchair, a music box, a journal and oodles of cobwebs.

Needs just a bit of Pledge.

But when the little red ball that once belonged to his daughter rolls down the stairs not once, but twice (and believe me, the second time's the charm)...well, that's when the movie asks you "recovered from that kick yet, because I'm warming up my foot."

Aw, shiii...

From here, it turns into a mystery rolled up with the creepy aspect, as John and Claire try to solve the mystery of who this ghost is, how and why he died, and what he wants. There's a seance, and you know some good will come of that. Oh, it does. But it was the post-seance that gave me the biggest chills, as John listens to the tape made of the seance. Readers, turn your TV's up for this entire movie. The sound is incredible, and is a character all in itself. Sometimes the noise is slamming into your ear, at others it's not quite there, like you heard it in your imagination. And I'm telling you, when John hears what he hears on that tape...

Not an unreasonable reaction.

As characters in a horror/suspense movie, John and Claire displayed traits that really endeared them to me, such as intelligence and curiosity. Not dumb curiosity of the "let's go into Stabyerguts Woods and find firewood" sort. When John finds evidence of an extra room boarded up, he tears it down. I'd have done the exact same thing. He's not petrified with fear, though he has every right. He's curious and he wants to help find justice for this spirit. I hoped Claire wouldn't be the less smart of the duo, and I was pleased when she showed the same depth and brains that John had. The acting by Scott and Van Devere was top-notch.

You want dumb? Try police detective De Witt (John Colicos - the supervillain Mikko Cassadine on General Hospital in the 80's...don't ask how I know that). On the payroll of the movie's antagonist, Senator Joseph Carmichael (Melvyn Douglas), De Witt makes threats and demands in a GRAND SHAKESPEAREAN VOICE that made me wish he was in the film for longer. Threats against a man trying to help solve a mystery about a ghost? Eh, not a good idea.

Gone to that Globe Theater in the sky.

Looking for something creepy, atmospheric, well-acted, and well-made with believable characters and truly chilling moments? Find a way to get this movie, pop it in your DVD player or whatever the looters didn't take after the zombie apocalypse, and turn the lights off. You won't be disappointed.

Oh, yeah, and you might want to remove all little plastic red balls from your home.

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¹As a lifelong Phillies fan, I am contractually obligated to add this every time the year 1980 is mentioned.