Review: The Haunting (1963)

The Haunting has one of those typical horror movie plots that seems perfect for a grade-Z, direct-to-video feature. It's about a doctor, Doctor John Markway, who attempts to prove (or disprove, as the case may be) the existence of the supernatural. In order to do this, he decides to stay in Hill House, a large, foreboding mansion that has the reputation of being haunted. He does not go at it alone, however; he also invites several others, all of whom have in one way or another been witnesses to paranormal activity.

Of the six or so that received invites, only two show up: Eleanor Lance (Julie Harris), a fragile woman who took care of her dying mother for the last eleven years of her life, and who appears to be psychologically unstable; and Theo, a woman who hints at having lost her sister. On top of Doctor Markway, they are joined by Luke Sanderson, the man who is next in line to inherit the house. And that, in a nutshell, pretty much sums it up.

Yet The Haunting has the distinction of being on almost every single list of the "scariest movies of all time", something that finally made me stand up and take note, despite the fact I am not a fan of what many consider "classic cinema". Things that were once terrifying thirty years ago are often tame and predictable by today's standards (Psycho), or are just ruined by overexposure through popularity; films that are discussed so heavily and so often that, by the time you finally get around to watching it, you pretty much know exactly what's going to happen, and where (The Shining, The Exorcist). Then there's the big issue with special effects: things that were considered groundbreaking in the sixties are often silly now, leading to unintentional laughter rather than the intended emotion of terror.

I will admit, I was already a little skeptical going in to the viewing, and the opening narration, so prevalent in cheesy older horror movies, certainly did little to put my mind at ease. But by the five-minute mark, amidst all the creepy (and effective) lighting and stunning camerawork, The Haunting had me. And it didn't let go until the screen went black. This is as effective a horror film as I have ever laid eyes on, a film that so seamlessly blends innovation and stunning black and white cinematography in a way I haven't seen since Mario Bava's Black Sunday. But where I am hard-pressed to remember a sequence that scared me in Bava's masterpiece (as impressive as it was, and still is), The Haunting still somehow stands the tests of time and remains a thoroughly chilling picture.

I saw "somehow" because all the basic elements of the haunted house subgenre are here: Doors slamming shut by themselves, unexplainable noises, and a creepy soundtrack. Yet despite all of this, The Haunting somehow remains scary: There were seriously no fewer than five scenes that made my heart skip a beat, and a couple that nearly made me hit the ceiling. This is mainly due to the fact that The Haunting barely contains any special effects that could give the film a dated feel; a majority of the terror is achieved through the unexplainable sounds that constantly fill the air. Yet when the film does opt for effects of the visual kind, they are absolutely astounding.

Even though there are plenty of scares to be found, I was more impressed with the film from a technical standpoint. As stated before, the lighting and the cinematography (especially the latter), are often jaw-droppingly brilliant, with seemingly complex camera movements and stunning shots that were way ahead of their time. The acting is also above-par; whereas acting in most older movies is more suited for Broadway than a big screen, I didn't get that feeling with any of the performances in The Haunting.

Simply put, this is a nearly-flawless motion picture that should be required viewing for anyone that considers themselves a fan of the horror genre.

Rating: * * * * (out of 4)