52. The Haunting (1963) - Dir: Robert Wise
If I told you that an old black and white G-rated film made in the early 1960s was one of the scariest films you would ever see, would you believe me? If you've seen The Haunting, directed by Robert Wise, then yes, you would. If you haven't yet seen this remarkable horror flick, do so now, and then crawl out from under your covers, turn all the lights you turned on, off, and come back and read this review. Yeah, it's good, and really, really creepy.
The narrative is concerned with a small group of ghost hunters, each specializing in some kind of psychic power, who stay at a house to investigate some strange occurrences. Over the course of a few short days, and a few incredibly long nights, the ghost hunters are subject to terror so tangible, the horror oozes from the screen, or more precisely from the speakers of your television. The narrative is broken up into day/night cycles; during each night, something spooky happens, and the following day the characters spend their time exploring and discussing the ghostly happenings, and going completely bonkers in the case of one of the characters. As each night passes, the terror level escalates, and the spectral presence grows stronger, louder, and more threatening.
The house, Hill House, is in itself a main character. It is a house that was “born bad,” and has been associated with death for generations. In many ways, the fictional house is like the very real Manchester Mystery Mansion in California. Hill House was built without a single right angle, every corner is slightly askew, and this creates a kind of subliminal madness for the characters in the film. Hill House is also full of phantasmagoric noises that seem to be birthed from the very bowels of hell. What is most startling about this film is that you never see anything resembling a ghost - but damn do you ever hear them. It has always been said that what you don't see is far scarier than what you do, and if proof is needed just watch The Haunting.
If a film ever deserved an Oscar for sound editing/production, it is The Haunting. We all know how on a stormy winter's night, when we are alone in our homes, a simple sound of dripping water, or a branch scraping across a window screen can send chills up our spines. As we allow our imaginations to be carried away by strange noises - noises that are at once familiar, yet turned sinister by the darkness - we sink deeper into feelings of foreboding. The Haunting's sound design captures this phenomenon expertly, as each passing night spent in the house reveals more noises that elevate in their demonic cadence, performing an environmental symphony of the damned.
The next time you watch this film (or maybe the first time you watch it) I challenge you to watch it under certain conditions. Some horror films are made better due to the particular time of day or night they are watched, and I have the perfect setting for The Haunting. Start the film at dusk, just as the sun is going down, but it should still be light enough to avoid having to turn on any lights. As the narrative progresses, drawing its characters further along into the madness of Hill House, the sun in your reality will begin to set. As the film engages you, and enraptures your attention, the passing of night will go unnoticed, until it is too late. By then end of the film you will be sitting in total darkness, afraid to move, with your ears keen to any unearthly noises. WHAT’S THAT? Don’t worry, it’s just your cat scratching at the door...or is it?
