ECSTATIC: October 2022

For this installment of In Conversation I welcome the Minneapolis- based stand-up comic, writer, and film buff Bryan Miller to ECSTATIC to discuss Ti West's 2011 homage to the era of satanic panic, The House of the Devil. Bryan has recently performed shows opening for Al Franken, and you can check out his stand-up special Panic Room streaming on Amazon Prime, his album 2020 wherever you listen to comedy albums, and you can visit his website for upcoming shows. After discovering a shared love of genre films from horror to Japanese noir we decided to spark a critical conversation about a somewhat overlooked gem we think deserves another look (especially if you're looking for a new Halloween season classic).

Jason Hedrick: Bryan, I want to start by reminding you I used to read your reviews for Carbondale, IL's now-defunct "Nightlife" entertainment guide, so for whatever that cross-over time was that you were writing for them and I was reading (the late 90's into the 2000's, I'm thinking) I always appreciated you bringing some homegrown film criticism to the area that was certainly a cut above the typical college newspaper review. Carbondale is still where I call home, but I know you currently reside in the Minneapolis area where you continue to perform and write and podcast, and I'm excited to bridge the gap of us meeting in-person with an extended conversation about a film I know we both think is worth spotlighting, The House of the Devil. Our Carbondale connection couldn't be more appropriate given how the film builds dramatic tension around an impending eclipse, taking place in what we're told is as prime a vantage point as our shared Southern Illinois haunts.

Directed by Ti West, an independent filmmaker brought up under the low-to-no-budget production wing of indie mainstay Larry Fessenden's "Glass Eye Pix," the film premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in 2009 and only received a limited theatrical release around the Halloween season of that year, followed by a few physical releases that attempted to accentuate the detailed early-80's quality of the film by packaging the release in a VHS-era clam-shell casing. When it comes to "80's homage" cinema, I can't say I have an immediate or uncomplicated attraction to that particular style or mode of filmmaking, but it does bring to mind the question of why similar films that attempt to speak in the same cinematic vernacular sometimes fail, while something like The House of the Devil, in my opinion, gets it so right. I'm curious how you generally react to this particular realm of "nostalgia" filmmaking, especially given how the horror genre tends toward constant attempts to break new ground, while never quite being able to escape the conventions of the past. I think we both consider West a fascinating touchstone director for this topic, especially since the release of his recent film, X, which, although a bit more complicated in it's overall elements than The House of the Devil, is similarly using the storytelling tropes and visual impressions left behind by everyone from Tobe Hooper to Hitchcock to create something that feels distinctive apart from those influences, and isn't just hiding in their shadows.

Psycho (1960)

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

X (2022)

I know we shared a similarly positive reaction to West's latest, and I think that may have led us back through the director's filmography to The House of the Devil, a film that has become my go-to Halloween recommendation over the decade-plus since I first saw it, mostly because it's so accessible in regards to it's nostalgic feel, but also because it is so well crafted apart from that, particularly when it comes to the relationship between suspense and surprise. Remarkably, the film maintains a tremendous amount of suspense while sporting the biggest spoiler title since Lone Survivor. We are, indeed, encountering a "house of the devil" alongside our protagonist Samantha (Jocelin Donahue), a college girl whose main objective is to get out of her bad dorm room situation and into an apartment of her own, aided by her pal Megan, played to great effect by a then-less-known Greta Gerwig who seems determined to adorn her performance with as much comedic finger-licking, lip-smacking food consumption as possible. The two college girls venture to the titular house to answer a notice for a babysitter on the night of the eclipse, and while all of this sounds fairly conventional or like low stakes, the whole set-up is convincingly drawn and the characters engaging without being exposition-heavy or overly jokey. Gerwig's repulsed attempt to eat a piece of candy while waiting for Samantha to talk to the proprietors is a perfect example of the kind of subtle hand the film has with comedy, and we can certainly get into more examples of this type of patience and humor that characterizes much of the film (as well as instances that may not work quite as well). In any case, the dramatic set-up is not only nicely drawn, but incredibly well paced. I think this movie is often rightly labeled a "slow burn" horror film, and carries with it all the best connotations that label implies. All of the elements need to be perfectly measured in order to propel the characters and the drama believably toward what could easily turn into a silly encounter with a family of Satan-worshipping ritualists. Again, in the hands of a lesser director, this could be just another knock-off or thin homage, but manages to become it's own supremely effective construction, right up to it's risky final scene.

I'm curious if the film strikes you in some of the same ways, or if you want to take a different approach to talking about what it attempts, succeeds, or fails at. I did want to mention that I looked at many of the available films that Ti West made prior to The House of the Devil, including two incredibly low-budget "Glass Eye Pix" indies called The Roost (2005) and Trigger Man (2007), as well as his sequel to Eli Roth's Cabin Fever (I would file these under films you won't find unless you're looking for them). While there are some interesting connections between the early stuff and House in terms of how they construct the horror "journey," whether it be a carload of hapless college kids, a group of city boys going on a hunting trip, or college girls venturing out to an old, dark house, my primary take-away is how remarkable it is that West managed something as effective and economical as House within two years of a film like Trigger Man, which is a less-than-impeccable exercise in creating dramatic tension or suspense. I say that with all respect to the "just go out and make it" attitude that those early films display, and all the skills he clearly culled along the way, but it doesn't change the fact that House is such a far cut above those previous attempts. As for the features that come after House--including the tonally wonky ghost story The Innkeepers (2011), the Roth-produced Jim Jones-ploitation found-footage thriller The Sacrament (2013), his Western In a Valley of Violence (2016), and the recent X, the body of work becomes richer to discuss, while never quite topping, at least for me, what House seemed to pull off so effortlessly. While we don't necessarily have to read across his filmography (of which there is more to discuss in terms of shorts, collaborations, and TV output), and we can certainly bring in any other productive cinematic comparisons in horror or otherwise that you like, I'm open to what excites you most about the picture, and how you might position it through your particular critical lens. There's certainly a lot more to dig into in terms of themes, technique, performance...or anywhere else you'd like to steer the conversation. What say you?

Bryan Miller: Well, Jason, I think we share fairly similar sentiments about House of the Devil, which, spoilery title indeed. I would argue the worst title of all time was actually 10 Cloverfield Lane, a pretty nifty movie overall whose are-there-aliens-or-not? premise is pretty bluntly spoiled by us knowing it is set in the “Cloverfield universe,” which, for whatever that means, certainly seems to include the for-sure existence of aliens. That movie shoulda been called The Bunker or something, whatever the original title was before they Cloverfielded it, but I digress.

West gets a fair bit of credit for helping to usher in the slow-burn horror trend — maybe a little bit too much credit, given the existence of Rosemary’s Baby a scant 40 years or so prior, or the various Val Lewton productions in the 40s, etc. I have an affinity for slow-burn horror, and West, unlike some of his less successful colleagues, gets that slow-burn doesn’t mean “the first 50 minutes are boring.” The character interactions in the first act are delightful. If you took just the beginning and re-shot the rest of the movie you could make a fun hangout comedy with the two girls that has mildly spooky overtones, and I would still be totally into that movie. The Innkeepers is the same, maybe even more so — that’s a fun, quirky character movie that I enjoy right up until it briefly becomes a more straightforward horror flick, and then it becomes sort of cookie-cutter.

The Seventh Victim (1943) Val Lewton, Producer

The Innkeepers (2011)

Nothing against House of the Devil’s lead, Jocelin Donahue, who is good, but this is one of those movies that threatens to get hijacked by a great co-star, a la Bill Murray in Tootsie or Peter Sellers in Lolita. This was right before Greta Gerwig started to break through into bigger movies, and it’s hard not to want the camera to follow her even when she’s just going back to her apartment, despite it not presumably being The Apartment of the Devil. I was a big fan of hers from the Mumblecore movies she did, Hannah Takes the Stairs, Nights and Weekends, and most especially Baghead from 2008, which I highly recommend as a bizarre low-key indie horror comedy kind of in the vein of Creep. Greta is like a 10,000 watt bulb, and even though she’s got the chops to be a great character actor she almost has too much charisma for supporting roles. Note particularly the way she eats in this movie — absolutely that funny bit with the piece of candy, but also in the diner scene where she just absolutely lays into that burger and fries. It’s so wonderfully un-dainty. She’s a playful but also very aggressive actor. Watching her house that diner order while she jokes around with her friend, cartoon hearts were shooting out of my eyes like I was a human crush emoji. And of course she also gets the single most memorable moment of the movie, which is really the definitive horror moment as well, arguably more so than the excellent climax. There’s kind of an optimist v pessimist way to look at the movie. The optimist says that Greta and all of her scenes add tremendous value to an already pretty good horror movie. The pessimist take would be that all the most interesting stuff in the movie involves tangents with a minor character and the back half of the movie is much less interesting without her.

House of the Devil gets categorized as ‘80s nostalgia, which isn’t unfair. It is set in the ‘80s and it’s definitely hearkening back a little to the Satanic Panic of the era. The lack of cellphones help West with the suspense and the plot mechanics. But 99 times out of 100 when something is ‘80s nostalgia, it’s mostly evident in very obvious tropes, or it becomes something like a really shallow museum tour of consumer culture iconography. Oh look, they’re drinking a can of New Coke and listening to the Bangles while they play with a toy Millennium Falcon, and there’s a Bubble Yum Bubblegum commercial airing on MTV in the background! It’s more like the 2022 senior prom theme “An Evening In the ‘80s” version of the decade, something remembered secondhand rather than lived in. West doesn’t indulge in any of that, which actually gives the movie more of a timeless quality than roots it to a specific era. But West is definitely doing his riff on a familiar thing.

That brings me to my major question for you. It seems to me like West always works within the very specific boundaries of a sub-genre. Most filmmakers do this to some degree, but West is incredibly self-aware and intentional about the form he’s chosen. The Innkeepers is his spooky hotel movie. Valley of Violence is basically, “I’m gonna make my own version of Hondo with Ethan Hawke.” Most recently, X is leaning hard into Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes. He makes plenty of conscious decisions to zag where it would be obvious to zig, but despite X’s interesting take on the material, for all its implied protestations it’s still very much a bunch of clueless city kids who stumble upon a screwed-up back-country family in a grimy little town where they are menaced with farm tools. That’s a slightly reductive take, but also 100% accurate. He does this stuff smartly, and I have enjoyed every single movie of his that I’ve seen. But do you think he’s limited as a filmmaker and a storyteller by so self-consciously fitting all of his work into highly defined sub-genres? He’s quite inventive within those boundaries, but a lot of times it feels like a lot of managing of audience expectation, unlike, say, a Robert Eggers or Ari Aster who are trying to reject those boundaries so much that you have no real idea what to expect.

JH: I like this question, and I like the larger questions it opens up about genre filmmaking, artmaking in general. I've always been fascinated by the question of applying value, or not, to artists who vary their output from film to film, painting to painting, album to album, etc. I find this question interesting even in the choices actors make, probably most defined by the serious actor who wants to exercise their comedic chops (let's say, Robert DeNiro in the We're No Angels period) or the comedic actor who makes the dramatic turn--Bill Murray, Robin Williams, Jim Carey, and so on. Generally, audiences seem to applaud these turns (well, maybe not We're No Angels) as if it were some insurmountable feat for an actor to operate outside of their commercially proven genre. As an antidote to this, I was delighted to hear Martin Short in a recent interview respond to a question about whether or not he would do a dramatic role with a simple "no," expanding in a very matter-of-fact way that he understood what he was particularly good at and didn't really feel the need to "stretch." All of this is to question, of course, whether it makes a critical difference for someone like West to expand his cinematic palette, or not. As you mention, In a Valley of Violence is a clear detour off the dark road of horror and onto the dusty trail of the western, but I can't say the product was strong enough to signal a directorial vision about to radically diversify. What comes to mind here as a reference point is someone like Soderbergh--aggressively hopping from genre to genre, from pure commercial product (Oceans 11, 12, 13) to the purely unmarketable (Schizopolis, Bubble)--versus someone like Hong Sang-soo or Hal Hartley, essentially making variations on the same film with only small, incremental adjustments to technique and narrative structure along the way. Though it's likely more difficult for someone who makes their mark in horror to veer off that path, it feels like West is less a case of someone feeling trapped by his highly specific genre inclinations, and more a case of someone who truly loves horror, and has come to a unique understanding of how to make them still feel vital and artful.

I think the reason we're still talking about The House of the Devil is that it manages a level of artfulness beyond how it operates as a satisfying genre film. This might have to do with West reaching a point where he could shed the indie production values of the mumblecore period to make something with a more filmic aesthetic. Even though his work on V/H/S, and later The Sacrament, are very much working in a hand-held DV mode, and both feature a central, indy director/actor of the last 15 years you mentioned earlier, Joe Swanberg (also a guy who spent some time in Carbondale), they both leave me wanting for the more concentrated cinematography and precise pacing of House of the Devil. I've sometimes referred to House of the Devil as a movie you could entirely mistake for a film made in 1981 (given that you didn't recognize Dee Wallace in the opening), which distinguishes it from the type of nostalgia filmmaking you so accurately described, entirely over-concerned with the wrong thing. It reminds me of the more successful distillations in Tarantino's films, a director who's always recycling, but rarely feels derivative. As you'll remember, once Pulp Fiction hit, everyone and his brother or dorm-mate attempted something in a Tarantino style, nearly every one of them desperately trying to recombine the superficial elements of his films while ignoring the craft and substance. This seems to me very much the same thing that happens in horror filmmaking with even greater frequency, and is particularly what West manages to transcend with House of the Devil.

Early in the film, one of my favorite shot constructions is the babysitter job "callback" sequence at the payphone. In these early sequences it's hard not to think of John Carpenter's Halloween, and while it's difficult to fully define what makes something an artful progression vs a derivative failure, I might say that it wasn't until this recent viewing in prep for our conversation piece that I even thought of Carpenter, which may have to do with how much the filmmaker leans into quoting influences, or something to do with the viewer's familiarity with Halloween (I'm a much bigger fan of The Thing and They Live, for instance). Another director that comes to mind is Dario Argento, with House sporting a score that sometimes sounds like a thinner version of Goblin, and a lead actress who truly, perhaps intentionally, evokes Jessica Harper from the original Suspiria. The climatic sequences of House display the bloodied white robe of Samantha, the tone of the blood taking on an Argento-inspired hue that makes me think West is similarly less interested in blood than the color red. Still, the blood being poured into Samantha's mouth from the skull of a goat as part of the climactic satanic impregnation ritual is horrific, but used to different effect than the painterly costuming touches that Samantha displays after that scene. And, of course, as you mentioned, it's difficult not to think of Rosemary's Baby in relation to the ritual scene, featuring the perfectly cast "homeowners" Tom Noonan and Mary Woronov as variations on the neighborly Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon, although it isn't until the final reveal, perhaps, that we fully grasp that particular homage.

Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Or, rip-off? I would say that one distinguishing factor between the two is the extent to which the film plays apart from any of these points of reference, which I think the film does remarkably well. The casting and performances are certainly key to this, though some more overtly so than others. Since we seemingly both had the same ga-ga response to Gerwig's performance, I feel it's important to note that as great as that supporting role is, Noonan and Woronov are equally pitch-perfect. The carefree and kinda clueless behavior of Megan is not just fun on it's own, but the perfect foil to the creepy, low-key, yet high-stakes seriousness of Noonan and Woronov. And, in terms of the more successful comedic moments, the award has to go to Noonan's perfectly delivered reminder of the pizza delivery number before the Ulman's leave their "babysitter" alone for the night. Noonan and Woronov have rarely been more perfectly cast, as the film doesn't just lean on the very specific and niche celebrity they both bring to the table (see Noonan's early 90's independent gem What Happened Was; for Woronov, see everything from Andy Warhol's screen tests to Deathrace 2000, Rock & Roll High School, or Eating Raoul), but actually gives them each vital roles and scenes to play. It's difficult to shake much loose from this script that doesn't serve a purpose, as with the way the monetary negotiation with Ulman and Samantha ratchets up the stakes, or the way that Vivian wastes no time sexualizing Samantha in their first scene together, with the undeniable strangeness and seductiveness that only Woronov can bring, foreshadowing the sacrifice to come.

I also want to give a bit more credit to Donahue's performance this time around, because I agree with you that while it's good-but-ultimately-overshadowed, this is a common case of a central role not being as "fun" to play as the supporting roles, even though the film would fall apart without the kind of stability Donahue brings to the role. Samantha's physicality is uniquely rooted, and seemingly very thought out and well-considered in the direction. Much of the film relies on the suspense of moving through doors, hallways, staircases, and--one of West's favorite tropes--the impending, dark void of the basement, all of it almost imperceptibly well measured in performance and framing. While the film might be criticized for simply presenting us with yet another female rape victim, there seems to me a difference in the strength of Donahue's character, perhaps more of a victim of what a young woman has to do for a little money and independence than a simple female pawn in a horror film. I don't think this totally excuses the aspects of House of the Devil that might not sit well with audiences focused more on depictions of women and violence in horror, but, as with X, I think there's ultimately a more thoughtful consideration of the genre in relation to those depictions. I don't mean to lead your response entirely onto the well-worn path of political correctness and horror, but am more interested in what aspects didn't play as well for you in the final analysis, and if that has anything to do with the film as an homage, a rip-off, or just another dude violating helpless young girls on screen. But, even more importantly, I want to know if you think West is limiting himself, if it seems a good idea for him to break the genre chains, so to speak, or if he's doing just fine progressing horror tropes from within the genre's confines?

BM: I have a soft spot for writers and directors who veer between tones and genres, although I’m not so sure it’s generally helpful for them. Commercially I would imagine it’s a tougher sell, and definitely it can get you lost in the critical conversation when you don’t have a really definitive style that can become a kind of shorthand. I love Robert Wise, but it's not particularly helpful to say something is Robert Wise-esque. (Do you mean it's like Run Silent Run Deep or The Day the Earth Stood Still or Blood On the Moon or West Side Story?). Whereas, if something is described as having a Wes Anderson vibe, you know exactly what that is.

If West has a limitation, it's not that he mostly sticks to horror movies but rather that he doesn't really have a horror aesthetic or a thematic focus of his own like a Cronenberg or a Raimi or a Carpenter. He's more likely to do his version of a movie in their style. He's kind of always playing in someone else's sandbox, but he brings enough thought and craft to it that the movies are worthwhile. I don’t know that if I just watched any five-minute stretch of one of his movies out context that I would say, “Oh, I bet this is Ti West.”

Christine (1983) John Carpenter

Crash (1996) David Cronenberg

X (2022) Ti West

If he’s associated with anything, it’s the term “slow-burn” horror, which I think is kind of dumb. The vast majority of all horror movies that are trying to actually be scary start slow. It’s essential for the suspense. It’s not like West is Kelly Reichert or something. I think the Nirvana/Pixies description of “loud-quiet-loud” is more applicable. West keeps the first part of the movie more subtle both for plot reasons and also to accentuate the intensity of the climax — which I think works quite well. Breaking down why something is scary, in an academic sense, is kind of a bummer, much like analyzing why something is funny, but the last 15 minutes of House of the Devil are legitimately scary. That escalation that West was keeping at such a deliberate pace is totally unrestrained, and he pulls it off without feeling like the whole thing has turned into an entirely different kind of movie.

I think he was very much wise to make the Satanic impregnation a symbolic/ritualistic thing. To be more literal would have made it a whole different kind of movie, and one I really don’t want to see. I’m all for more thoughtful movies, of all kinds, but modern horror has become so hypersensitive to the creepy (in the wrong way) subtext and tropes of the past that it’s, ironically, become almost as predictable as the lazier ‘80s films where you knew the black guy was gonna die first, the girl who had sex first in the movie was going to get killed off quickly, etc. West does a good job of navigating this territory. I’m about as disinterested in seeing a movie pass a bunch of litmus tests as I am seeing, say, Eli Roth, gleefully fail them all on purpose. In either case the storytelling is artificially constrained and the final product feels didactic and superficial.

Tom Noonan is a kind of living special effect. The movie would still work okay with a lesser actor, but maybe even more than Gerwig he’s West’s ace in the hole here. He has such a genteel, cerebral presence, but with a remove that always makes him somewhat alien. He’s like a finely calibrated machine where the most subtle adjustments change his demeanor from wry comedy to ambiguous drama to absolute menace. It’s exactly enough to make you (and poor Samatha) strongly suspect something is wrong, but elusive enough that you don’t feel like the character is an idiot for taking the job. You can’t blame her because you can’t quite put your finger on it either. Noonan is such an enigma. Is he the most Lynchian actor who has never been in a David Lynch movie?

JH: Yes! Absolutely. Tom Noonan should have been hanging out in Big Tuna with Willem Dafoe and Jack Nance in Wild at Heart. And, yes, "genteel" and "cerebral" perfectly describe what he brings to the film that plays so well, the perfect contrast to the impending sense of dread and literal creeping darkness. It recalls for me why he was so perfect for Michael Mann's Manhunter as the Francis Dolarhyde/Red Dragon character, for me still the most indelible portrayal of that character in light of the film and TV renditions that followed. For those wanting to explore Noonan's filmography, I would suggest another overlooked gem, The Pledge, directed by Sean Penn (featuring a late Jack Nicholson lead performance that's more "70's Jack" than "Batman/Wolf-era Jack"), as well as his work with Charlie Kaufman in Synechdoche, New York and Anomilisa.

Another actor we have to make further note of here is Dee Wallace, who serves in the opening scene as a sort of signifier for horror fans who will never forget her work in the likes of Joe Dante's The Howling. By chance, I recently saw her in two pretty schlocky movies--Critters(1986) and Popcorn(1991)--and was reminded that her commitment to a role was unwavering, no matter the quality of the material. Her presence in House of the Devil is brief, but her journeyman-actor presence adds another perfect layer to the film. In a sense, this parallels what we're getting at about West. Even though his filmography is a only a fragment of Wallace's, he can be similarly characterized by his ability to bring a unique commitment to genres that have been "tossed off" by so many.

Critters (1986)

I want to go back to your "Robert Wise/Wes Anderson Spectrum" as a way to think about West's directorial style. Of course, both ends of the spectrum are populated by great directors, and West's output isn't simply one-thing-or-the other, but, perhaps, at a point without an entirely unmistakable artistic signature, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Having seen Cronenberg's latest Crimes of the Future, I can say the design aesthetic is highly recognizable from a huge portion of his work, from the first time he made an amateur version of Crimes of the Future in 1970 through to one of his masterworks, Crash in 1996. Even the Cronenberg films that have departed from science fiction and physiological horror over the last couple of decades-plus are recognizable in their stark framing and approach to performance. While the films of Cronenberg are entirely different from the likes of Anderson or Raimi, they all have signature aesthetic qualities, and the proof may show that it's often better for their overall artistic project to not have to subordinate what's great about their vibe or vision to franchise filmmaking (absolutely aiming this at Raimi's recent sell-out-- Doctor Strange 2: Let's Just Multiverse It!). It's surprising that West hasn't been swooped up by the Marvel Universe and has managed to produce projects that feel honest and personal, perhaps aided by the current marketability of horror, and I hope he doesn't have to conform to anything other than what interests him. Maybe he'll take more of a Cronenbergian path and hit a period where the genre elements become less interesting to him, and we get his version of the Cronenberg stretch that includes the likes of A Dangerous Method and Maps to the Stars (though far from my favorites in his filmography).

On the "Robert Wise" end of the spectrum, The House of the Devil feels like a director coming into his own and displaying a grasp of dramatic structure that could potentially blossom into a jack-of-all-genres, Wise-like oeuvre. Even though West clearly built his career through a singular dedication to the horror genre, he has made a Western, and in between that film and X he's taken directing jobs across eight or nine different television programs--the only one I've actually seen being the visually distinctive Simon Stålenhag-inspired Tales From the Loop. The orchestration of elements in House are an incredible leap forward from his previous work, as I mentioned, but they also signal a directorial adeptness that could lead in a few different directions. For instance, one often taken-for-granted aspect is a director's ability to define space in a way that feels expressive and coherent. The titular house in House of the Devil is perfectly defined through the experience of Samantha and how that translates to the audience, making spatial sense when it needs to--as in the Fixx-scored sequence where Samantha dances through the house, the sound memorably undercut by a glance down the dark basement stairs--and becoming less coherent and jarring as the house begins to almost manipulate or jostle her through canted angles and light bulbs eclipsed internally by blood. The house itself becomes a character as the film progresses, internally and externally, as West elegantly ties it together spatially from the basement, through the pipes to the kitchen sink, to the bathtub strewn with discarded hair, to the attic, to the demonic moon that looms above it all. The sound design, as well as Donahue's attention and movement in performance, tie the space together in a way that imbue the entire house with exactly what the film needs in order to work--an undeniable feeling that this house is the intersecting point of all that is Evil. I say it's right up there with Pyscho and The Amityville Horror in terms of creepy, cinematic houses.

The Amityville Horror (1979)

One scene that compliments this sense of space is one I alluded to earlier when I mentioned the relationship between suspense and surprise. As opposed to the "One Thing Leads To Another" scene on the basement stairs, which would be an example of ramping up suspense, one of the most memorable moments of true surprise in The House of the Devil is the murder of Gerwig's character Megan, which perfectly escalates the audience's sense of Samantha being trapped in the house, and defines the dire lengths of the Ulman's satanic devotion as played out by their son Victor, portrayed with a perfect, casual menace by A.J. Bowen. The violence is played out around the lighting of a cigarette, which reminds us that Gerwig and West's performance choices around Megan's persistent consumption are a cleverly crafted way to thread the arc of her character through physical action and gesture. Her demise is truly shocking (the chorus of the Pixies' "Tame" where nearly everything leading up to it has been in a Black Francis whisper, to run with your music analogy), and leaves Samantha utterly abandoned. It's my favorite scene in The House of the Devil, the one I immediately think of when I recall the film, and even though you can never recapture that feeling of surprise that came with the first viewing, it still plays beautifully, especially if you're watching with someone who's never seen it.

I'm curious, what is a "key" or "favorite" scene for you? I like to invoke (and probably misquote) the old Howard Hawks line that all you need to make a movie are "three great scenes and no bad ones," and I think we agree that The House of the Devil fits that criteria, so what other scene would you like to hold up as one of the "great" ones?

BM: Oh, man, Popcorn. That’s a really fun ‘80s spookhouse movie. The movie-trailer voice guy doing the tagline for that is permanently imprinted on my brain from when I was a kid. “Popcorn: Buy a bag…go home in a box.” Whenever I buy popcorn at the drive-in I always say it to my wife like a catchphrase.

Dee Wallace is fun in that and The Howling, which is one of my favorites —way better than American Werewolf in London, btw — and of course a million other horror movies, from Cujo all the way up to 3 From Hell. She’s got several new horror movies pending on her IMDB profile. That’s the thing about horror acting: It’s way underrated, but it’s also kind of self-segregating.

This may sound basic, but it’s true: Acting is hard. Because of my particular job, people have occasionally suggested I audition for stuff or told me what I do is basically like acting, which it is not. I find it pretty impossible not to seem wooden and dumb reading from a script. Acting genuinely terrified and pulling it off in such a way that it doesn’t just come off as accidentally hilarious must be really difficult. As much as people bag on the bad acting in shoddier horror movies, I think we undervalue just how good the acting is in even medium-grade horror movies. Found footage especially, which often has a lot of the limitations of a stage play. I was just watching a pretty harrowing British found-footage horror movie, Exhibit A, which is a well-hidden gem, and I was thinking how the acting in this movie is better than at least half the more, eh…reputable movies.

But because horror audiences are so dedicated and loyal, the genre tends to subsume actors. And it’s hard as hell to make movies as it is, so I’m sure they’re happy to get the regular work. Whether it be scream queens or great villains, these actors tend to be in so much horror that the performances become kind of a given, and maybe they even ossify a little bit. The greats like Linn Shaye & Tom Noonan can always bring it, though.

I think that’s what make’s Gerwig’s performance stand out. Her character in no way seems to be aware she’s in a horror movie. She’s almost ported over from a chatty comedy, so when the horror comes to her, it works as an even bigger shock. That’s one of House of the Devil’s great strengths, I think: The whole setup with the spooky house to watch over at night, and Noonan and Wallace’s characters, is very trope-y, but here the protagonist and her best pal are living in a very low-key, lived in slice-of-life kind of movie. Not horror-movie normal, which tends to be kind of implausibly idyllic and artificial. So when they collide with the central plot line, it brings a realism to what is otherwise potentially a kind of familiar genre exercise. (Probably the greatest example of this is Takashi Miike’s Audition.)

That’s why, yeah, the best scene has to be the big shocker with Greta in the car. It’s where the whole movie pivots fully into the lurid and strange. As well-executed (no pun intended) as the finale is, the movie never quite tops that big twist, it just sort of rides the momentum in a terrific way.

JH: Agreed, though I find the film's finale orchestrates a crescendo of satanic madness that keeps the tension and terror escalating. Also, the encounter with Woronov's character later in the film is a moment I really love, and a sort of precursor to the "horrors of aging" theme that we'll see West return to in X.

X (2022)

I think a great place to land this conversation is on the topic of "acting," and I think it's both basic and true, as you said, that "acting is hard." Though I'm not currently teaching, I've taught college courses in acting and directed theatre and performance pieces off and on for around 20 years, and I consider your perspective on it one I wish more young actors brought to my classes. For sure, it's incredibly risky for many to attempt acting, but I've discovered over the years that there's also a general attitude toward acting that assumes "you either have it or you don't," which is simply not the truth. Actors are interesting for any number of reasons and have different capacities, and there's always something more to learn about the craft. Also, the role of casting is so essential, and often invisible to those outside of the process--for instance, Noonan and Woronov are perfect together because their energies match, but the opposite is a necessity for Donahue and Gerwig's roles to play, and if it were otherwise it may have sunk the whole film.

As for acting in horror films, I couldn't agree more that the acting chops in the oft-dismissed genre is undervalued. I will have to check out Exhibit A, and, as always, I look forward to continue talking with you and getting your recommendations outside of this slightly elevated exercise. And I hope you do take that acting leap some day! Having watched your stand-up, you definitely command the stage, and I think that kind of presence would translate incredibly well to the screen. When I get that horror script I've been thinking about for a decade or more (the one about a backwoods Moreau cross-breeding the locals with the local sasquatch--working title: Squatchbillies)...well, I'll let you know.

Thanks for unpacking this horror classic with me, Bryan! Be sure to keep me posted about any horror pics that stand out on your October watch-list, or even post your recommendations in the comments section here on ECSTATIC.