Film Club: The House of the Devil

FINALLY, everyone in the universe can get off my back about Ti West's The House of the Devil (2009) because I've FINALLY seen it. No more will I quietly stand outside the Cool Kids Club, face pressed against the glass whilst everyone inside clinks their glasses of Riunite and talks about "atmosphere" and "scares" and "throwback"! That's right, folks- I still may not be cool enough to venture inside the Cool Kids Club, but now I can yell "I agree with whatever it is you're saying in there!" as everyone clinks drinks and links pinks in a big "We Love House of the Devil" caring circle.

The film is incredibly light on plot: Sam (Jocelin Donahue) is a college sophomore who's just rented her first apartment. In need of some quick cash, she answers a "babysitter wanted" ad posted around campus. Sam's pal Megan (Greta Gerwig) drives her to the Ulman house, which is far away from everything, nestled in the woods down a long, desolate road.

Upon arrival, Mr. Ulma (Tom Noonan) tells Sam that she won't be watching a child, but rather "Mother", tucked away in an upstairs bedroom. She won't be a bother, and the Ulmans are desperate for the help. Megan warns Sam that it's all way too weird; the Ulmans are liars and the disproportionate pay is too good to be true. With a big check to write to her new landlord in a few days' time, Sam is as desperate as her employers and she decides to stay. If you've ever seen a horror movie before, then you know that's totally the wrong decision.

The House of the Devil is a time capsule. It's set in 1983, and it's certainly got all the trappings of the era: the giant Walkman, the high-waisted jeans, the rotary phones; but writer/director/editor Ti West goes deeper than that. It's not about the superficial elements, but rather the filmmaking style itself that's a glimpse into the past. The pacing is ponderous and languid. The shots are long and uninterrupted- West's hand is assured and his camera placement deliberate. Samantha walks a lot- she walks to school, she walks through her dorm, she walks throughout the Ulman house, she walks down hallways and more hallways- and West shows every minute of it. The backend of the film is weighted with the action- things explode in the last 15 minutes much the way they do in John Carpenter's Halloween. Until that point, it's about building; unlike the majority of modern horror films, House of the Devil abides by the tenet that it's not the happening, it's the waiting for the happening that puts a knot in your stomach.

On the flip side, that waiting for something might bore you to tears. The payoff may not be as grand as you hoped or expected- as I mentioned, it's a thin film story-wise even during the climax. In fact, the wrap-up isn't particularly fresh or original- in fact, it got to me but it's oddly the weakest, if bloodiest, portion of the film- and I think gripes about the plot (or lack thereof) are legitimate. The film is really an example of style over substance, only the style at work here isn't the modern music video jump cut-laden one that befalls most modern horror. There's really nothing deeper at play here, and that's going to be enough for you or it's not. As for me, I suppose in this case it was enough as I was all about it. I bought into everything hook, line, sinker, and whatever else is in the tackle box. By the time Samantha put on her headphones and danced around to The Fixx, I suddenly realized that I was nervous. This film got under my skin and I didn't even know it until it was too late.

West's direction is bolstered by some terrific acting. As Sam, Donahue charms us into believing that even smart people do stupid things when they're broke. I'm almost ashamed of how happy it made me to see Dee Wallace and Mary Woronov in this. I know I was grinning stupidly and I don't care. I'll be clutching my "late 70s-early 80s horror movies FUCK YEAH" pennant in my coffin. My one complaint is that I wanted more Greta Gerwig, whose Megan was a brand of quirky I could get behind. Even in such little screen time, she became one of my favorite horror movie characters in recent memory. I'm gonna hold out hope for a Megan-centric prequel. It could happen, right?

While your mileage may vary, I think I was born to love The House of the Devil. It's a slice of horror cinema from my favorite horror era, sure, but it also got me walkin' through the park and reminiscin' about those heady days when Satanists were all the rage- and man, they were. They were out there, trolling the countryside in their Satanmobiles, looking for people to sacrifice and...and...Satanize and...well, no one was really sure what they were doing. But we were all afraid of the roving cults of Devil worshippers! My friends and I were convinced there was a "devil church" tucked waaaaaay up in the woods that were located a good drive out into the middle of nowhere. We went off in search of it several times but we'd inevitably get too scared and head home before long- probably because we always tried to find it after the sun went down. We never found it, but we talked to people who totally did. They couldn't tell us what they actually saw, but they saw the place, for reals! The truth of it didn't matter, though, it was the possibility. Sometimes that's enough, and maybe that's why I'm a sucker for movies like The House of the Devil.

So, what, nostalgia? Yeah, that's a part of my enjoyment of this film, sure. An unexamined life may not be worth living, but once in a while it's good to merely let it happen, too. As a horror fan, I'm thrilled Ti West has proven that "they don't make 'em like they used to" is no longer a given. He's got the style, now he just needs the substance.


Film Club Coolies, y'all!
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