The traction of Longlegs (2024) was unexpected. Especially
when considering the horror features Perkins directed before it. As a genre
director, he deals with deliberate slow burns which grow and build like mould
in the corner of a damp room. His films are exercises in extended suspense.
Shots get held longer than one would expect. Nothing ever feels conventional,
and things are rarely fully explained. I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in The
House is in the same wheelhouse as Long Legs or The Blackcoat’s Daughter
(2015). It is deliberately paced and uninterested in submitting to the horror
status quo. The film is gothic in its purest form. Taking a past tragedy
and having it become a rotting stain or a burnt shadow which never fades.
Perkins delivers horror films which linger and infect. Like Session 9 (2001) it
suggests that such dread lies dormant in the shadows until the chance arises to
infect the weak and the wounded.
Ruth Wilson plays Lily, a live-in nurse sent to a remote
house in Massachusetts to look after Iris Blum (Paula Prentiss), an elderly
female writer who suffers from dementia. Lily scares easily. With little in the
house apart from Iris’ penny thrillers for entertainment, Lily’s imagination,
or what appears to be her imagination, begins to play tricks on her. She begins
to sense something supernatural is in the house with Iris and herself.
Something connected to the books, and possibly events that previously occurred
within the house itself.
There’s a layer of chill that rests on the surface of
Perkins's film. The jump scares if indeed you can call them that, are mild in
their execution. However, Perkins’ use of empty and liminal spaces brings a
sense of uneasy stillness, making you wish something should happen to break the
suffocating tension. While this may sound like an oxymoron, nothing happens and
that’s the point. To a sub-section of horror fans, this film will piss them
off. To those who find something within films that deal with the saddening
deaths of lonely, forgotten women, they may absolutely find a new favourite
film. There’s a subtlety to IATPTTLITH that can really connect with a viewer
allows it. The film deals with a narrative of female abuse and loneliness that
is as quietly upsetting as it is unsettling. What’s difficult is that not
everyone will be able to cling to this theme. Narratively the film is so slight
it’s easy to feel that you might have missed something. The film moves from
beginning to end in a way that may feel inconsequential in its execution.
But there’s effectiveness in its atmosphere. Some films are
louder with their scares but aren’t as disquieting with their sense of dread.
Wilson is the perfect actress for this kind of story. A performer whose looks
can’t be placed easily within the past or present. It’s easy to absorb her fear
as she frets around the house, unsure of herself, or the abode she’s been asked
to reside in. A lot of IATPTTLITH works because of how convincing Wilson is. A
bundle of nerves, unsure of where to place herself. Either within the house or
in conversations. The dominant aspect of Wilson’s performance lies in her
creepy narration which slips into pockets of the film, helping to build the
unease of the film’s sparse compositions.
Much like the films of Kiyoshi Kurosawa, the film captures a
bleak tone that often resides in the Gothic. We see remnants left by ghosts
unable to save others from their possible doomed existence. An elderly woman
dying of dementia. Her disease is doing its best to take away her personality
and essence at the end of her life. This also leaves Iris unable to fully
inform her carer of what may lie ahead of her. Iris’ book that Lily reads, is
based on the film's main ghost, Polly and what may have happened to her within
the walls of the house, the women are living in. It is mentioned in the book
that Polly never gets to elaborate on what occurred to her, although the
audience does. She is a woman unable to clarify what happens to her. Lilly also
illustrates within the film’s narration, that her story is cut short, with her
chronicle to be forever embedded within the house. The weight of dread lies
heavy in this collection of stories by women who aren’t allowed to close the
book on themselves.
This sad aspect brings out one of Perkins’ strengths as a
director. A Lynchian love for his female characters, something also seen in
Longlegs and The Blackcoats Daughter. As vague as Perkins' films may be, he
still finds reason to tell the saddening fate of these three women.
Furthermore, as a horror formalist, he does this with a formidable command of
mood. Many will want the film to “do more” with the material. But I Am The
Pretty Thing That Lives in the House is much like Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) in
that less is more here. The film tells you enough. Possibly even more if you’re
willing. But it’s important to note that Perkins wants to envelop people with
mood. If you have the patience, the film will reward you. However, you must be
interested in what Perkins is selling. You must be willing to get with the
vibe.
I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House can be found on Netflix
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