The House of the Devil (2009)

“They don’t write ’em like that anymore,” sings ’80s rocker Greg Kihn on a car stereo during a scene from The House Of The Devil. I hope he’s right, because this film’s screenplay devolves from possibly interesting to weird, boring, bad, then finally just stupid.

After onscreen text describing the 1980s as a time of widespread paranoia about satanic cults (true) and that government cover-ups were involved (huh?), we’re introduced to college sophomore Samantha (Jocelin Donahue), who’s just found a great place to live off-campus, with an affable and accommodating landlady (Dee Wallace). If Samantha can come up with $300 for the first month’s rent, the place is hers. While the landlady appears more than a little desperate to rent the place out, we’ll never know why, because even though the star of E.T. and Cujo was cast in the role and featured in the opening credits, she disappears from the film after just one scene. And if that rent sounds like a bargain by today’s standards, it soon becomes apparent that we’re back in the 1980s, reflected by the vintage-looking credits and Samantha’s boxy Walkman protruding from the pocket of her down-stuffed coat.

Samantha is desperate, too. She wants to get away from her slutty, sock-on-the-doorknob dormmate, but doesn’t know how she can come up with 300 bucks until she spies a “baby $itter needed” note on a campus bulletin board. Samantha gets her feathered-haired friend Megan (Greta Gerwig) to take her to the babysitting gig, which, of course, is at the end of a long drive through the woods and conveniently adjacent to a cemetery. The clichés keep coming as they’re welcomed into the sizable home by Mr. Ulman (Tom Noonan), a tall man in a black suit and necktie, filmed from low angles to make him appear even larger and more sinister. Noonan played a serial killer, the “Tooth Fairy,” in the first Hannibal Lecter film, Manhunter, back in 1986 — and another serial killer on The X-Files — so his presence is an additional cliché for fans of the genre.

And Mr. Ulman is also desperate. He wants to take his wife out for the evening to observe a lunar eclipse, and they don’t have a child to watch over (apart from a creepy adult son who shows up later), but rather, a supposedly shut-in mother upstairs. The first girl they tried “didn’t work out,” and he’s willing to pay her an exorbitant amount–more than she needs for rent–to keep the house occupied for a few hours in case of an emergency. He assures Samantha she probably won’t have to see or interact with his mother at all, as she’s “very private.” Despite her vocal misgivings, Megan agrees to leave Samantha there and pick her up later, so any self-respecting horror vet immediately knows they’re both doomed.

Samantha then meets Ulman’s wife, and she’s one of the few treats among the film’s cheap tricks. She’s played by cult actress Mary Woronov, memorable as the co-star of Eating Raoul and as evil Principal Togar of Rock ‘n’ Roll High School. The raven-haired Mrs. Ulman graces Samantha and the audience with her fur-wearing presence all too briefly, then she and Mr. Ulman depart for the eclipse-watching and leave this nosy girl behind in a house with far too many rooms and strange noises to be left uninvestigated.

While the first half of the movie had moments of interest, I became increasingly confused as the minutes ticked away. With its vintage costumes and décor, eerie music and classic pop songs on the soundtrack, and rampant use of visual clichés, it’s clear that The House of the Devil is paying homage to the style of ’70s and ’80s horror cinema. (A friend remarked that he half-expected Donald Pleasance from Halloween to show up.) But as the film continued, I began wondering if this was more of a parody than an homage — beyond the familiar horror-film trappings, some elements were downright laughable. For instance, the long drive to the house is filmed in ridiculous low, upward angles from the back seat, the passing woods seen through the car windows are obviously fake, and Megan doesn’t even bother to watch where she’s “driving” while engaging in lengthy dialogue with Samantha.

Then it occurred to me that The House of the Devil wasn’t a deliberate parody, but just a display of cheapness and ineptitude. We don’t laugh with this movie, but at it. When Samantha calls Ulman from a pay phone on campus, not only is the phone a phony — framed tightly in the foreground to hide its lack of a surrounding housing and permanent mounting — but also there’s nobody in the background. In an expansive courtyard by a large building on a college campus on a sunny day? Couldn’t they afford a few extras to wander around? The dormitory scenes and a later hospital scene are similarly underpopulated. Is the story taking place after a plague or something? Is it all a dream?

No, more like a nightmare of crushing boredom and stupidity. The strange-yet-curiously-promising setup climaxes about a third of the way in with an admittedly shocking and graphic moment. But then it stalls out for a long time with a whole lot of nothing as Samantha hears faint noises and pokes around in every room. How many doors and floors are in this house anyway? How many times can we watch her slowly ascend a staircase while casting ominous shadows on the walls? The moment where all hell breaks loose is groan-inducing, the entire spawn-of-Satan finale is idiotically scripted and badly staged, and the ending is terrible enough to piss off even the most patient horror fan.

The House Of The Devil is “written, directed, and edited by Ti West,” which means he had final cut on this movie and deserves the bulk of the blame. He’s an auteur, just like a similar director with a six-letter name — Ed Wood. Now that’s scary.