I’m Not Saying It’s Demons…Five Things That Happen on Pretty Much Every Episode of “A Haunting”

The Goddess, as I may have mentioned before, is a hardline skeptic down to the very depths of her shriveled black core. But wait, I may hear the peanut gallery insisting. Didn’t you just write a book called The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist, which you maintain is a true story? And aren’t you at this very moment working on a new book with parapsychologist Steve Mera about yet another true poltergeist account? Yes and yes, and also, don’t question me, mortal. While I’m willing to entertain the scientific possibility that there’s some weird shit the human brain is capable of that may account for so-called “poltergeist” infestations, and while I absolutely believe that the GoH’s and Steve Mera’s accounts of their experiences are 100% genuine, I have to say that in the vast, vast majority of cases of purported hauntings and poltergeist attacks, I firmly believe that the witnesses were probably mistaken, or misattributing natural phenomena to paranormal shenanigans, or straight out making the whole thing up for attention.

All that said, I love me some paranormal TV shows, if only for the sometimes creepy but usually unintentionally hilarious entertainment they provide. The GoH is also a big fan, and in fact, for his birthday a couple years ago, I bought him a box set of the first four seasons of “A Haunting,” and he has watched those discs so many times that I think we can both recite most of the episodes from memory. The newer shows aren’t quite as fun as the older ones, as it seems like the producers are constantly trying to top themselves with crazier and crazier shit until any semblance of believability has flown out the window, but we still find them fairly enjoyable to watch and dissect.

When you’ve seen the episodes as many times as we have, though, you start to notice definite patterns and formulas to the stories they choose to re-enact. Not all of the episodes adhere to the formula strictly; there are a couple of wild cards in the lineup, but I can safely say that roughly ninety-five percent of “A Haunting” episodes feature one or more of the following tropes:

1. The Women and/or Children in the Family Start to See Weird Shit First, and the Husband Doesn’t Believe Them Until He Either Sees It Himself or is Possessed by a Demon

This is probably the most common attribute of the stories by a significant margin. In a great majority of episodes, the husband/boyfriend works nights (who knew there were so many dudes working the night shift?) or is otherwise not in the house very much to witness the phenomena. I’m not sure why so many of the families featured on the show adhere to the traditional “man works while woman stays home” structure, since I know so few families in real life who can still afford to have one spouse not in the workforce, but maybe ghosts and poltergeists are more likely to strike stay-at-home moms for some reason known only to them (they’re just in it for the play-dates, man). Or perhaps the show producers like to finagle the stories somewhat to make them “scarier” by having the ghostly shit happen to the more “vulnerable” members of the family first. I could probably write a whole book on the cultural significance of this, and what it implies about the producers’ perception of their intended audience, but I’ll leave that for another time.

Here’s what almost always happens: The family moves into a cool old house (and it’s almost always old and in need of renovation; I guess there isn’t really anything scary about amorphous demon-shadows flitting through a modern high-rise apartment). The wife and children begin to feel uncomfortable in the place right away, and sometimes hear footsteps or voices, or notice that things are moving around on their own. Of course they tell the big manly man about their experiences, but the manly man is usually dismissive, because bitches be crazy, obviously. At one point the wife and children will beg to move out, but the manly man will pooh-pooh this idea—because he is rational and practical, dontcha know—and insist that the family’s finances are far more important than the wife and children’s safety or comfort. The wife and kids are stressed out, both by the bizarro shit happening to them and by the lack of sympathy displayed by the manly man.

Well, we have silly lady brains incapable of perceiving reality effectively, so that eerie chanting we're hearing up there must just be the squirrels in the rafters.

Well, we have silly lady brains incapable of perceiving reality effectively, so that eerie chanting we’re hearing up there must just be squirrels in the rafters.

But then, about halfway through the episode, manly man will get thrown out of bed by a ghostly whatsis or otherwise have something inexplicable and dramatic happen to him that finally makes him see the light, at which point I always turn to the GoH and say, “THEY NEVER LISTEN TO THE WOMEN. YOU ALWAYS LISTEN TO THE WOMEN IN HORROR STORIES.” I think the occurrence of this that pissed me off the most happened in an older episode whose title I can’t recall (because the titles rarely correlate closely with the subject matter; see point 4). The wife, home alone of course, begins to hear what sounds like someone walking around up in the attic. She calls her husband at work and tells him, and he brushes it off, telling her it’s her imagination. Now, at this point she’s not even saying that there are ghosts up there, yo. She just hears what she thinks is a person, probably a murderer, walking around in their house. AND THE HUSBAND DOESN’T WANT TO COME HOME TO HELP HER. Imma tell you something for free: If I was home by myself and heard somebody WALKING AROUND IN MY ATTIC, you can bet your diamond-encrusted Ouija board that the GoH would be home as fast as his little motorcycle would carry him, and before you could blink he would be pounding up those stairs with loaded gun in hand, demons or no. Don’t hang with dudes who evidently don’t care if you get sliced up by an attic psycho, ladies. Y’all deserve better than that.

A demonic hellbeast emerging from the toilet, you say? Good God, woman, can't a man nap in peace???

A demonic hellbeast emerging from the toilet, you say? Good God, woman, can’t a man nap in peace???

There is also a variation on this theme in which manly man slowly starts to become possessed by the entity in the house, often without realizing it. This variation appears in the GoH’s favorite episode, “The Haunting of Summerwind,” in which hubby Arnold begins to go batshit, playing an old organ at all hours of the day and night, losing his job and all his money, and turning into a general garbage person who shrieks at his family for perceived slights and kills their pet raccoon purely out of spite (and you’d better believe that a crazily-screeched “WHERE’S THAT RACCOON?!?!” has become a common joke in the Hellfire household; it works in a surprising number of circumstances). There was also another episode where the manly man was evidently overtaken by a particularly assholic spirit and then tried to kill his wife with an ax. So that’s nice.

And I'm right here, by the way. Hi.

And I’m right here, by the way. Hi.

2. Even if the Main Spirit in the House is Benign, There Will Always Be Another Evil One Lurking in There Somewhere

Obviously, because this show is supposed to be scary, a sweet little helpful ghost who causes no distress and simply whooshes through the halls being all translucent and adorable just ain’t gonna cut it. There have been several episodes that featured a sad little kid ghost (“Sallie’s House” is probably the most obvious example), but you can bet that where sad little kid ghosts appear, evil murderer ghosts are never far behind.

Don't mind me, I'm just a harmless little spectral girl, minding her own business and not at all waiting to reveal myself as a dark minion who will claw off your face. Nothing to see here, la la la.

Don’t mind me, I’m just a harmless little spectral girl, minding her own business and not at all waiting to reveal myself as a dark minion who will claw off your face. Nothing to see here, la la la.

Well, now, that's just rude.

Well, now, that’s just rude. (Unless that says “Pie Now,” in which case, gimme.)

In almost all cases, the mean ghost is the one who killed the kid ghost and is holding the kid ghost hostage in the human realm, presumably because they enjoyed being a dick so much in real life that they thought their dickishness should continue indefinitely into the afterlife. Alternately, the kid ghost is not a kid at all, but is rather a demon from hell who cleverly disguises itself as a kid to worm its way into the family all innocent-like. Often, the demon will get to the children first using this strategy, as he pretends to be an imaginary friend who slowly reveals himself to be evil incarnate. My very favorite example of this was in the aptly-named “Demon Child,” which featured a kid named Cody and his imaginary buddy named “Man” (real creative, there, demon). Man would make Cody behave like a total bratling, throwing tantrums and peeing in his closet (so, just like a regular six-year-old boy then). Just like the raccoon thing, Man has become a go-to joke in our house, and we will often invoke him as a justification for our own terrible behavior, like so:

Me: “Did you use the last of the Almond Joy coffee creamer?!?!”

GoH: “MAN SAID I COULD!!!”

Use it yourself; it’s fun!

Man said I could make you sit through a 12-hour marathon of The Teletubbies, mom.

Man said I could force you to sit through a 12-hour marathon of The Teletubbies, mom. Deal with it.

3. A Priest Will Be Called In to Deal with the Problem, and Will End Up Making It Worse, After Which a Magic Native American Will Recommend Smudging the House with Sage

If I’ve learned one thing from watching “A Haunting,” it’s that when dealing with paranormal chicanery, you should never, ever, ever get the church involved (not that I would anyway, because I’m an atheist, but you know what I’m saying). I admit that this trope has faded on the newer episodes, because I’m pretty sure that the production company that bought the show in 2012 has a religious agenda, but it’s a fairly common plot device on the older shows. The family, at the end of their tether due to the entity-based zaniness, will call in a priest when they have exhausted all of their other ideas. The priest will arrive, looking all pimpin’ like they do, and either perform a half-assed blessing and/or flee from the house in terror after seeing a crucifix catch fire or some shit. Generally, the phenomena will cease for a few days after the priest’s visit, just so the show doesn’t make men of the cloth appear totally useless. But because you’ve seen this show before and because there’s still fifteen minutes of runtime remaining, you just know that the clever demon has simply lulled the family into a false sense of security before unleashing even more supernatural fuckery. You think some old codger in a dress can just come in there and sprinkle some holy water about the place and make EVIL disappear? You best think again, viewer. All the priest did was piss the demon off, and he will now rain even more infernal vengeance upon your cowering ass as punishment for your feeble attempts to dislodge him from your domicile.

I joined the priesthood to avoid work, not waste time dealing with your spiritual bullshit.

I joined the priesthood to avoid work, not waste time dealing with your spiritual bullshit.

Usually, after the church has failed miserably (YOU HAD ONE JOB, HOLY MAN), someone in the family will call up a flaky psychic chick or a medicine man they happen to know, because everyone on this show happens to know one. Said mystical and new-agey personage will always recommend “smudging” the house with sage, which in practice entails lighting a big ol’ bundle of the stuff and waving it around all the rooms in a manner that frankly seems even less effective than the cross-and-holy-water combo, but what the hell do I know. Evidently, in much the way that mosquitoes are repelled by citronella candles, evil entities cannot abide the smell of sage, and will abscond through the windows at the first subtle whiff of the stuff, leaving to haunt the neighbors’ house or possess some hapless little kid who happened to be riding his Big Wheel down the sidewalk out front. But whatevs, as long as they’re out of YOUR hair, amirite? This usually works as a last resort, but on a few episodes the sage was just as worthless as the other religious voodoo, and the family is forced to extricate themselves from their mortgage or rental agreement in the most ridiculous way possible.

Pictured: the kryptonite of the spirit world.

Pictured: the kryptonite of the spirit world.

4. The Title of the Episode Will Have Little to Nothing to Do with the Episode’s Content, Will Just Be Generic and Applicable to Pretty Much Any Other Episode

As many times as I’ve seen these episodes, I STILL have a hard time remembering which title corresponds to which episode, for this very reason. While a handful of shows are simply titled according to the locations where they happened (“A Haunting in Florida,” “The Wheatsheaf Horror,” “Nightmare in Bridgeport”), the rest of the shows have titles that wouldn’t seem out of place on one of those cheapie, indistinguishable, direct-to-DVD horror flicks you find yourself indifferently scrolling through on Netflix at 3am. “Echoes from the Grave” could refer to pretty much any story featured in the series’ run, as could “House of the Dead,” “Darkness Follows,” “Hidden Terror,” “The Presence,” “Stalked by Evil,” or my personal favorite, “The Diabolical,” a title made even more delightful by the fact that whenever some demon-based shit begins to happen on any episode, the GoH will turn to me, raise one eyebrow, and go, “I’m gonna have to say it. This shit is getting [dramatic pause and switch to creepy whisper] diabolical.” Trust me, it never gets old.

The Terror Echoes of the Past That Haunted the House of Nightmare Horrors from the Darkest Pits of Hell, next on Destination America.

The Terror Echoes of the Past That Haunted the House of Nightmare Horrors from the Darkest Pits of Hell, next on Destination America.

5. At Some Point, a Woman Will Be Seen Doing a Load of Laundry, and Also Will Probably Find a Pentagram Under a Carpet Somewhere

Seriously, WHAT is with women always doing laundry on this show? Does someone on the production team have a Maytag fetish? It’s mind-boggling, and frankly a little, yes, diabolical. Look, I understand laundry has to be done quite often, depending on the size of the family portrayed, and I understand that since most of the women on the show are “housewives” (ugh, the 1950s called) they will end up doing the bulk of the laundry because their husbands are too busy out earning that almighty paycheck or banging hookers or scoring blow or whatever it is that they do when they’re not in the house helping out their harried and haunted spouses. I get that. I also get that when they film the re-enactments, they want to show the actress doing something productive in the house rather than just sitting around on the couch watching reruns of “River Monsters” and stuffing cheese curls into her maw (which is usually what I’m doing, if I’m being perfectly honest). But dammit, there are other things she could be doing, show writers. Aren’t there dishes to be washed? Catboxes to be emptied? Baseboards to be scrubbed? Couldn’t she be, I dunno, replacing the power steering fluid in her SUV in the garage? Learning Swahili? Synthesizing DNA? Practicing her trapeze act? Building a scale model of the Taj Mahal out of mashed potatoes? House-training her tame bonobo? ANYTHING other than gathering up her husband and children’s filthy underthings and carrying them about the house in a little plastic basket? Evidently not. For the women of “A Haunting,” it’s just one vast, endless wasteland of soiled Tuffskins and fabric softener, topped off by the occasional ass-pinch from a ghost in the eerie, lonely laundry room, which is always, ALWAYS in the dimly-lit basement (and I live in Florida, where basements are very thin on the ground, so for all I know laundry rooms are always in the basement in other parts of the country and that part of the show is entirely accurate).

Is it bad that I'm kinda hoping for a haunting to liven up this drudgery?

Is it bad that I’m kinda hoping for a haunting to liven up this drudgery?

Use the spray starch next time, this gown is chafing like a motherfucker.

Use the spray starch next time, this gown is chafing like a motherfucker.

Speaking of basements, more often than not, there’ll be a ratty old carpet down there that will inevitably be kicked aside one joyless, laundry-filled day to reveal a sloppily-drawn pentagram in red paint that looks suspiciously like bloooooooood, you guys. PEOPLE HAVE BEEN TOYING WITH SATANISM IN THIS BASEMENT, AND SHIT’S ABOUT TO GET REAL. Alternately, the pentagram will appear under some peeling wallpaper or in a hidden room at the back of a closet, but the upshot is always the same: The credulous geezers who are watching the show and taking it seriously still remember the Satanic Panic of the 1980s and will proceed to pee their pants in terror at how some irresponsible goth kid who used to live there went and LET THE DEVIL IN. And then the poor lady on the show will have to do another load of urine-soaked laundry. Poor wives just can’t catch a break, folks.

Hmmm, what could this strange symbol portend? Could it be...SATAN???

Hmmm, what could this strange symbol portend? Could it be…SATAN???

ETA: After I talked to the GoH about this blog post, he reminded me of a couple of other recurring amusements in these episodes that I had forgotten all about! For example, the music on the soundtrack, he points out, will always match the person on screen in the most obvious way imaginable. Asian dude? Plinking “Chinese” music. Native American? Tribal drums and chanting. Priest? Something that sounds like Enigma. Likewise, a successful exorcism of the entity will always be accompanied by a heavenly light and the sound of an angel choir, especially in the newer episodes. It’s pretty egregious and funny; watch for yourself! Also, he notes, whenever the family in the re-enactment has a teenage daughter, the cameraman will linger juuuuuust a little too long on her pert teenage booty, even if her character is supposed to be fourteen years old. Eeeewwwww.

Hope you’ve enjoyed my fanciful ramblings, and remember, the book I co-authored with the GoH, The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist, is available in print and ebook formats, and is guaranteed 100% priest, raccoon, and demon free. Until next time, keep it creepy, my friends. Goddess out.

God love the Warrens.

God love the Warrens.

The Goddess’s Top Ten Horror Novel Adaptations

I can’t believe it’s been a week since my last post! Sorry about that. I really do try to keep up with this thing, but sometimes I get busy with all my other endeavors (writing, book promotion, graphic design work) and run out of hours in the day. When it finally came time to do a new post, I was scrabbling for a subject, so I just decided to do something fairly pedestrian by discussing my ten best horror films based on novels. I’m not dropping my nuts here and proclaiming that these are the BEST ADAPTATIONS EVAR, but they’re certainly my favorites, and before anyone argues, YES, I know there are lots of other great horror films that were based on books, but I wanted to showcase great movies that were made from novels that were themselves fantastic and familiar to me (for example, while John Carpenter’s The Thing is one of my favorite horror movies of all time, I’ve never read the book it was based on, and as far as The Exorcist goes, I actually thought the movie was light years better than the novel). So now that we’ve got all that out of the way, allons-y.

GirlNextDoor

10. The Girl Next Door (2007)
Based on Jack Ketchum’s horrific, you’ll-need-a-shower-afterwards novel (made all the more squicky by the fact that it was based on a true story), this 2007 adaptation mostly doesn’t shy away from the more terrible aspects of the book, and is all the more powerful for it. While I admit I found the novel a great deal more disturbing, the film is a worthy addition to the evil-that-humans-do canon. Some of it is a little too aw-shucks, fifties-stereotypical, but Blanche Baker is chilling as Aunt Ruth, and the mostly young actors are great, particularly 21-year-old Blythe Auffarth as the doomed Meg.

Hellraiser

9. Hellraiser (1987)
Adaptations of Clive Barker’s infernal works are generally hit or miss, but I think we can all agree that this is the best by a mile (though I have to say that Candyman is also in the running). Based on his 1986 novella The Hellbound Heart, and directed by Barker himself, Hellraiser is filled to the brim with sadomasochism, buckets of gore, that genius puzzle box conceit, and one of the most recognizable horror baddies of all time. While the sequels couldn’t begin to approach the original classic, it’s easy to see how the detailed world Barker created in his short work demanded much more screen time. Jesus wept, indeed.

GhostStory

8. Ghost Story (1981)
As much as I adored the spooky, low-key adaptation of Peter Straub’s 1975 novel Julia (known as The Haunting of Julia in the US and Full Circle in the UK; you can find my analysis here), I find that Ghost Story, based on his 1979 book of the same name, just barely edges it out. The novel is so rich, complex, and over the top that the film couldn’t help but streamline the thing and leave several plot tendrils out, but I love it anyway, and I think director John Irvin was wise to focus solely on the central conflict of the book, that of the men of the Chowder Society battling the shapeshifting she-demon known by different names through the years. Some fantastically eerie scenes, and it was nice to see a band of dignified old codgers playing the heroes.

StirOfEchoes

7. Stir of Echoes (1999)
I’ve talked about this criminally underrated film before, but I try to pimp it at every opportunity, because it’s so great and I’m still pretty bummed that it sorta got lost in the shuffle due to its simultaneous release with The Sixth Sense. Somewhat based on Richard Matheson’s short 1958 novel A Stir of Echoes, the film takes the basic plot of the book and builds an intensely frightening tale of hypnosis, psychic visions, and murder upon it. I’m not scared easily, but seeing this film in theaters gave me the heebie-jeebies big time, and it holds up remarkably well. Props also for the very Lynchian sound design, which ramps up the scare factor considerably.

TheInnocents

6. The Innocents (1961)
Directed by Jack Clayton and starring Deborah Kerr as governess Miss Giddens, The Innocents is one of those rare films that wrings the scares from subtle atmosphere. Based on Henry James’s classic 1898 novella The Turn of the Screw, with a screenplay co-written by Truman Capote, the movie is chock full of spooky children, secrets, ghosts, and eerie goings-on, amplified into skin-crawling terror by the use of music, lighting, and ambiguity.

TheOther

5. The Other (1972)
Based on former actor Thomas Tryon’s 1971 debut novel (and if you’d like to read a rundown of the lackluster adaptation of another of his fabulous novels, Harvest Home, I’ve got you covered), this Robert Mulligan-directed film is one of the best examples of the good/evil twin trope. Set in 1935 and starring Chris and Martin Udvarnoky as the conflicted Holland twins, the movie is a golden-drenched slab of uncanny mystery and horror, painted in hues of perverse nostalgia. Tryon, who wrote the screenplay, was reportedly not happy with the adaptation, but for my money the film more than did the novel justice.

HellHouse

4. The Legend of Hell House (1973)
Another Richard Matheson adaptation (this time of his 1971 novel Hell House), this one takes obvious cues from The Haunting, but goes in a splashier direction with much effectiveness. Directed by John Hough and featuring great performances from Roddy McDowall and the impossibly adorable Pamela Franklin, the story takes the standard horror-movie plot of a group of ghostbusters investigating a scary house and does all kinds of weird shit with it. Baroque, overwrought, and lots of creepy fun.

RosemarysBaby

3. Rosemary’s Baby (1968)
Capturing the sly, blackly comic edge of Ira Levin’s 1967 book while maintaining a sense of slowly building tension and paranoia, there’s a reason this Roman Polanski-directed classic ends up on so many “best horror films” lists. I absolutely love Ruth Gordon as the lovably terrifying Minnie Castavet, and Mia Farrow is perfect as the fragile, waifish Rosemary, a protagonist you can’t help but sympathize with and be afraid for as everyone in her life seems to turn against her. If you’re a fan of Polanski’s films, check out my previous writeup on his deliciously creepy 1976 movie The Tenant.

TheShining

2. The Shining (1981)
What can I say about this masterpiece that hasn’t already been said? (Well, I said this and this, but y’know.) Taking what is arguably Stephen King’s best novel and using it as a springboard to explore universal themes, myths, and existential terror, Stanley Kubrick created a timeless, iconic piece of art that still has the capacity to enthrall and horrify, more than three decades later. Easily one of the five best horror films ever made.

TheHaunting

1. The Haunting (1963)
You just knew this was gonna be my number one, didn’t you? I admit I talk about this book and film a lot (such as here and here, for example), but that’s only because I am in awe of the subtle dread and psychological depths this story plumbs in both mediums. Based, of course, on the hands-down best haunted house novel ever penned, 1959’s The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, the casting in Robert Wise’s masterful adaptation is spot-on, and he deftly drenches the film in chills and atmosphere while essentially showing nothing, an astounding feat and one that is right in line with the source material. I really can’t recommend book or film enough, in case you hadn’t noticed. Oh, and I mentioned this before, but skip the lame-ass remake.

And just because I can, here are twenty more that were eliminated for the sake of brevity:

The Exorcist (1973, based on the 1971 novel by William Peter Blatty)
The Hunger (1983, based on the 1981 novel by Whitley Strieber)
The Birds (1963, based on the 1952 short story by Daphne du Maurier)
Nosferatu (1922, based on Bram Stoker’s Dracula, 1897)
Frankenstein (1931, based on Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel)
The Phantom of the Opera (1925, based on the 1910 novel by Gaston Leroux)
The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945, based on Oscar Wilde’s 1890 novel)
House of Usher (1960, based on Edgar Allan Poe’s short story “The Fall of the House of Usher,” 1839)
Duel (1971, based on Richard Matheson’s 1971 short story)
Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983, based on Ray Bradbury’s 1962 novel)
The Entity (1981, based on the 1978 novel by Frank De Felitta)
Village of the Damned (1960, based on John Wyndham’s The Midwich Cuckoos, 1957)
Masque of the Red Death (1964, loosely based on Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, 1842)
Re-Animator (1985, based on the H.P. Lovecraft novella Herbert West—Reanimator, 1922)
Cemetery Man (1994, based on the 1991 novel Dellamorte Dellamore by Tiziano Sclavi)
Misery (1990, based on Stephen King’s 1987 novel)
Carrie (1976, based on Stephen King’s 1974 novel)
The Prestige (2006, based on the 1995 novel by Christopher Priest)
The Lair of the White Worm (1988, loosely based on Bram Stoker’s 1911 novel)
Horns (2014, based on Joe Hill’s 2010 novel)

Keep it creepy, my friends, and until next time, Goddess out.

Parchment to Pixel: “The Enfield Haunting”

Readers should not be surprised to find that I’ve had poltergeists on the brain recently. Not only have I been doing radio shows to promote The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist (such as here and here), but I’ve also been working on a new book in conjunction with parapsychologist Steve Mera about one of the poltergeist cases he investigated in the 1990s. So those “noisy spirits” have been the overarching theme for the last few weeks of my life, if you catch my drift.

And because I love nothing so much as overkill, I decided to mine the poltergeist thang for this newest entry in my Parchment to Pixels series. Sky Living in the UK recently began airing a three-part miniseries based on the very famous 1977 Enfield Poltergeist case (which I actually summarized in my own Mammoth Mountain book, in the chapter on related cases). I’ve only seen the first two parts so far, but I thought I’d share my impressions, and perhaps edit this post or write a new one after the final installment airs. We’ll see how it goes.

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Called “The Enfield Haunting,” the miniseries features an impressive cast of British acting heavyweights, like Timothy Spall, Matthew Macfadyen, and Juliet Stevenson (as Maurice Grosse, Guy Lyon Playfair, and Betty Grosse, respectively), as well as some terrific child actors portraying the put-upon Hodgson brood. Eleanor Worthington-Cox (of Maleficent fame) as Janet Hodgson is especially good.

The series is very loosely based on Guy Playfair’s paranormal classic This House Is Haunted, and Playfair himself shares writing credit on the show (with Joshua St. Johnson). Having read the book myself about a year ago when I was researching my own book, I will say that this series is definitely not the place you want to go if you simply wish to see the tale told realistically; the show is heavily, heavily dramatized, features several big scares that were not in the book, and hews to a more traditional horror movie structure. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, as long as you know what to expect, but I have to say it was a little jarring for me at first, until I just relaxed and went with the flow instead of going, “Uh, no, that didn’t happen like that” every five minutes. By the way, if you’d like to see a more low-key rundown of the purported facts in the case, there’s a documentary here that’s actually pretty interesting. Oh, and from here on out, I’m likely gonna be spoiling some shit, so if you haven’t watched the series yet, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The Enfield Haunting Sky Living Episode 1 Doug Bence played by Tommy McDonnell shows Maurice and the Hodgsons the headline. Timothy Spall plays Maurice Grosse. Rosie Cavaliero as Mts Hodgson. Fern Deacon as Margaret. Credit: Photograph by Nick Briggs

You can read about the Enfield case on Wikipedia or in Playfair’s book, so I’m not gonna summarize it here, but I’d like to point out a few places where the series very obviously hyped up the terror and the drama from the fairly matter-of-fact reports of the paranormal investigators who worked on the case.

Though it is true, for example, that Janet supposedly channeled the spirit of a man named Bill who had died in the house (he’s named Joe in the series, for some reason), I don’t recall that she ever actually claimed to have seen an apparition of him. Bill manifested himself mostly as a creepy voice that would issue from Janet’s throat (or from behind her, as she claimed) and say nonsensical things, swear profusely, or occasionally come up with some tidbit about his death that actually did check out later. In the series, though, the spooky old fuck is everywhere, first appearing (in a pretty effective jump scare, I have to admit) when Janet is looking through her sister’s Viewmaster, and subsequently popping up outside of windows and so forth. Once he even turns up in the living room downstairs, puts his hand over Janet’s mouth as though to suffocate her, and (presumably) kills the family’s pet canary. And when Janet speaks in Joe’s voice, it is portrayed as possession, more or less.

Enfield Poltergeist 2

In fact, so far in the series, it seems as though the horrible Joe (who, it is hinted, was a molester/abuser when he was alive, according to his son, who Maurice Grosse interviews at one point) is painted as the main antagonist and a definite evil presence in the home who is on a quest to hurt Janet. In the second episode of the series, Guy brings in a psychic who makes contact with Joe, and after doing so, warns the family and the investigators not to try to contact or interact with him again, because he is the literal worst.

This is quite different to the book, in which it’s pretty much understood from the get-go that the “poltergeist” is not the spirit of a dead person at all, but rather the psychokinetic energy produced by Janet and, to a lesser extent, her sister Margaret, evidently triggered because the children were under intense duress after the departure of their father and their subsequent fall into further poverty. I don’t remember a psychic being called in by the investigators in the book, but if there was, then the psychic certainly didn’t channel a demonic old man or give the investigators such a grave warning. EDITED TO ADD: I was a bit mistaken in this. After discussing the book last night with the God of Hellfire, who read it at the same time as I did (I read it aloud to him after buying it for him for his birthday, matter of fact), he says that the investigators called in several psychics, none of which were much shakes, mostly just spouting useless “I feel a presence” type stuff, as most psychics are prone to do. Interestingly, though, the GoH remembers the last psychic that was brought in actually stopped the phenomena from occurring for good, or at least happened to be present when the phenomena stopped on their own.

The paranormal experiences portrayed in the series, in fact, pretty much take the gist of what was actually reported in the case and then ramp it up a hundredfold to make it as scary as possible. The splashiest things reported at Enfield in 1977 were things like furniture moving on its own, small objects (books, LEGO bricks) flying about the room, Janet’s weird “Bill” voice, some possible levitation, and a couple of apportations. In the series, though, Guy Playfair gets bodily thrown against a wall by an unseen force, Janet is nearly strangled by a possessed curtain (which actually only wrapped itself around her midsection briefly in real life), and sister Margaret begins speaking in the Joe voice as well, as though the “spirit” is moving from person to person.

David Soul seems unimpressed by the flyin' Guy.

David Soul seems unimpressed by the flyin’ Guy.

The relationship between Grosse and Playfair in the series is also far more contentious than it was in reality, and while I understand this was done to heighten drama and turn the whole thing into a more typical film narrative, it still struck me as strange, especially since Playfair himself was a co-writer on the series. In the actual case, Grosse and Playfair were both members of the Society for Psychical Research, and were casual friends. Grosse began working at Enfield, and at a meeting of the SPR asked the assembled members for assistance. Playfair volunteered, as he had at that point written several books and articles on paranormal topics and was experienced in the type of phenomena being reported. That’s about as conflicted as I remember their relationship being, i.e., not at all.

The Enfield Haunting Episode 1

In the series, though, Grosse begins camping out at the Hodgson home, doing his investigation thing, when Playfair shows up unexpectedly, offering help. It comes to light later that the bigwigs at the SPR have sent him to keep an eye on Grosse, since the SPR are thinking that Grosse has become too credulous and unstable since the death of his daughter, and is maybe going to screw up the case and make the SPR look like idiots. While it is certainly true that the real Grosse’s interest in the paranormal was sparked by his desire to contact his daughter (also named Janet), who died young in a motorcycle accident, in all the interviews I saw with him and in everything I read about him, he never struck me as any more credulous than anyone else in the field, and in fact seemed pretty level-headed, maintaining a healthy skepticism about the paranormal in general.

In a way, I almost wish I could just watch “The Enfield Haunting” as is, without knowing anything about the actual case, because I think I would enjoy it a lot more. It’s certainly a top-notch production, from the stellar acting performances to the fantastic cinematography to the wonderfully eerie vibe that permeates the entire endeavor. It’s creepy and pretty great, as a matter of fact; it’s just a shame that I’m so familiar with the source material that such a drastic fictionalization of it is sort of bothersome for me to watch (I’m sure I’ll feel the same way about the upcoming film The Conjuring 2, which will also be based on Enfield). It’s no fault of the series, really, and I actually do recommend it to those with an interest in such things. Besides all that, as I was watching it I couldn’t help but wonder what a Hollywood adaptation of my own book The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist would look like, and I can’t decide if the thought is hilarious or horrifying. Anyway. More to come later, possibly, when I’ve seen part three of the series, so come back next time, same bat time, same bat blog. Until then, Goddess out.

UPDATE! Okay, the GoH and I actually did watch the third and final part of this last night, and I have to say, I think in my previous viewing I was being a bit too kind vis a vis the series wildly deviating from the source material. While I still stand by my statement that the series is good and well-made if you don’t happen to know anything about the original case, the final segment really went flying off the rails and abandoned any semblance of reality. It seemed as though as the series neared its climax, the writer(s) no longer felt the need to simply sex up the reported facts of the case and instead went whole hog with just making shit up. Interestingly, the GoH tells me that he located an interview with Playfair on the internet (I can’t find it at the moment) in which Playfair said that he was unhappy with how the series had turned out, and that when he had been given partial writing credit he had been promised that the series would closely follow the actual facts of the case as he had written them in his book. He claimed that the actual facts he had reported were scary enough without having to go all Hollywood on the thing, and if that’s true then I kinda feel bad for him. As I said, I can’t find the interview myself, but the GoH read me bits of it last night, so make of that what you will.

As I said before, the series ran with the theme of making the poltergeist phenomena attributable to a ghost of some kind, although it did pay some lip service to the idea that Janet was causing the manifestations using psychokinetic energy powered by her repressed rage (there is one amusing scene, for example, where Grosse takes Janet to an airport and lets her scream out her frustrations to her heart’s content as the planes roar overhead).

Let the hate flow through you.

Let the hate flow through you.

This reasonable hypothesis is undermined, however, by pretty much everything else in part three of the series. There is crockery flying around everywhere, sinks full of blood, a tiny Tinkerbell-like light that torments and burns the girl, multiple apparitions, full-on possession of both Janet and the returning psychic; the shit just gets ridiculous. I think the most egregious example of this is when Janet is taken to the hospital after she breaks her thumb during a particularly violent poltergeist attack. In the real case, Janet (with no broken bones, it should be said) is simply sent to the hospital to have a standard examination, to rule out any mental or physical illness. She is given a clean bill of health and is sent home. In the series, however, she is put in a private ward, drugged all to hell (with the nurses soberly intoning that she can somehow withstand a HUGE amount of sedatives without seeming fazed), strapped to a bed, and threatened with electrical brain zapping. Later the bed dramatically flips over with the restrained Janet still on it. The girl’s mother, perhaps to save her from the suggested brain zapping, tells the hospital administrators that the family simply made the whole poltergeist thing up for publicity and that all she has to do is have a word with Janet and the whole thing will stop. Playfair and Grosse are both present at this meeting, and feel betrayed, though I guess the family didn’t really make it up because everything is okay with them later, though this is not shown. It’s a tad confusing, but whatever. It should be unnecessary to point this out, but none of this even remotely happened in the book; as far as I can recall, this was made up by the series writers from whole cloth.

There is also a rather silly scene where Playfair attempts to “exorcise” Joe by showing Janet the man’s ashes in a jar and trying to get his spirit to move on. Nothing like this happened in real life either, especially not the bit where Janet seemingly made the jar levitate up to the ceiling and then shattered it, showering everyone present with dead people ashes. The investigators never attempted an exorcism, and wouldn’t have attempted one in any case, since they were operating under the assumption that Janet herself was causing the phenomena.

Another aspect in which part three deviates quite a lot from the source material is Janet’s apparent channeling of Grosse’s daughter, and Grosse’s subsequent mental breakdown. He blames himself for his daughter’s death, you see. His wife leaves him (they make up at the end, though), he pretty much falls apart, and begins using Janet as a sort of surrogate daughter. Grosse in real life seemed like an okay dude, and I feel this does him a disservice. Of course the real Grosse was devastated by his daughter’s death, but he never once claimed that his daughter had contacted him, either through Janet or otherwise. And yes, he did become very fond of Janet and her family, as you would any group of people you remained in close contact with for more than a year, but I did not get the impression that he felt Janet Hodgson was trying to give him messages from his daughter. In the series, it almost seemed as though Grosse ultimately became the catalyst for the poltergeist and not Janet; at one point, Janet tells Playfair that Grosse is the one keeping the poltergeist there because he has unresolved issues about his daughter’s death, and indeed, the poltergeist phenomena doesn’t stop until Janet, speaking in Grosse’s daughter’s voice, tells Grosse that she is fine and that there is no need to forgive him for her death because it wasn’t his fault. It all just seemed very pat and more typical of a horror movie than a real, documented case, which generally has no rhyme or reason at all. So that rankled more than the earlier instances of embellishment, which at least bore some resemblance to the real reports.

Do I still recommend it? Sure, if you like poltergeist movies. But don’t expect it to be anything like what actually happened. If you’re okay with that, then go to town. The series definitely had some eye-rolling moments, but on the whole it was decently creepy, and the acting was mostly quite good. So, for the second time, Goddess out.

Houses Next Door: Novel vs. Lifetime Movie

At this point I almost feel like I should start a separate series called “Book To Movie” or something instead of just cramming these types of posts into my “Favorite Horror Scenes” series, but fuck it. Maybe I’ll get around to it; it doesn’t make much difference, I guess, but my anal-retentiveness really likes to have everything categorized neatly and correctly. The Goddess is nothing if not fastidious.

EDIT: Okay, I went ahead and did it. Not that anyone cares, but there are a couple new categories called “From Parchment to Pixel: Great Horror Books on Screen” to encompass these kinds of posts, and a “General Genre Musings” category as a catch-all for stuff that didn’t fit in any of the other classifications. Everything is correctly categorized, and I feel better now.

All that aside, here’s another discussion about a great horror novel that got turned into a mildly disappointing TV movie! If you’ll recall, I’ve done similar posts on Thomas Tryon’s Harvest Home and Stephen King’s miniseries version of The Shining. And if you’ll further recall, I highlighted today’s book in an earlier post about my favorite horror novels written by women. As you might have guessed, the subject of this post is Anne Rivers Siddons’s stellar 1978 novel The House Next Door and the surprisingly-not-terrible 2006 Lifetime TV adaptation of same. Into the breach!

Because this was made for Lifetime, the shoe-buying, chocolate-scarfing menstrual cycle of TV networks, I was expecting this adaptation to be far more cheeseball than it turned out, particularly because the source novel contains such sordid, over-the-top plot points (albeit presented in an oddly toned-down sort of way). But the movie—starring Lara Flynn Boyle and her surgically unfortunate upper lip as Col Kennedy, Zack from “Saved by the Bell” as Kim the architect, and a few other familiar faces—is actually relatively restrained, which was kind of nice to see. The book handily pulled off its ridiculously melodramatic incidents because of Siddons’s matter-of-fact delivery and pacing, but I’m not sure some of the crazier, modern-Southern-Gothic stuff would have flown in the movie; it could have easily slipped into camp. So points to Lifetime for tamping down on the more lurid aspects of the novel (although I admit I did enjoy those on the page).

The story has been modernized, obviously, to reflect the twenty-eight years between page and screen. The suburb in the movie is just presented as a generic yuppie enclave, so the more specific “old South vs. new South” themes of the book (which was set in a fancy suburb of Atlanta) are no longer in evidence. I feel like main protagonist Col Kennedy (never referred to in the movie by her full book name of Colquitt) is a bit younger than in the book, as is her husband Walker (who was named Walter in the book, which I guess seemed like an old-fashioned name, so okay), but that’s pretty standard as adaptations go. The horribly class-conscious, shallow and backbiting characters of the novel actually make pretty good fodder for a Lifetime movie, so I’m awarding more points there; some of the characters in the movie, in fact, were more likable than their novel counterparts.

The plot follows that of the novel pretty closely (and by the way, if you haven’t read the book, I’m gonna spoil it for you, so go read it real quick and then come back, okay? It’s pretty short; I’ll wait). scan0008 Done? Okay, moving on. The House Next Door is basically a frame story, with the Kennedys watching a succession of three families moving into the gorgeous, newly-built house next door, and slowly coming to the realization that the house is evil and destroys everyone who lives within it by pinpointing what the residents value or fear most and then dismantling their lives in the most spectacular ways possible. The movie is only an hour and a half long, so obviously the plot had to be substantially compressed, with incidents being combined, or one horror coming quickly on the heels of the last one. Characterization suffers, of course, and to someone who’s read the book it will seem as though shit is happening at lightning speed, but that’s a failure of the medium, really, so I’m not going to fault the movie for that. It seems they did okay within the time constraints.

The novel is told from Col’s point of view, but despite this, she remains on the periphery of the action for a good part of the book, mostly hearing things about the house next door second hand, and not witnessing anything herself until quite late in the story. In the movie, though, Col is the main character, so this outsider status wouldn’t really work. However, the screenwriter came up with what I thought was a fairly elegant solution: as in the book, Col is an interior decorator, and in the movie she gets to spend a lot of time with the families next door because they hire her to help them decorate. A totally believable approach, and a good way to get her more directly involved in the shenanigans.

As in the book, there’s a short flash-forward introduction where Col and Walker are shown leaving copies of their wills conspicuously at their house before heading over to the house next door, with Col’s voice-over explaining that they know what they’re going to do is terrible, but that it won’t matter because they probably won’t live long enough to get into trouble for their actions. Then we cut to eighteen months earlier, as Col, Walker and the neighbors express their understandable displeasure that a house is being built on the beautiful wooded lot next to the Kennedy house, and then there’s the same change of heart as they meet the hot-shit, tormented genius architect Kim (a shockingly well-cast Mark-Paul Gosselaar) and the couple that will be moving into the house, Pie and Buddy Harrelson.

The Harrelson family section of the movie was the most different from the novel, and I think most of the changes made were probably the right ones (though I’ll have more to say on that in a minute). In the book, Pie was a very young, naïve, perky cheerleader type with a bizarre, quasi-sexual relationship-cum-competition with her old-fashioned father; in the movie, only the competitiveness and spite are highlighted, with Pie telling Col that she’s basically basing her whole life around showing her father up, since Daddy never thought her husband was good enough. Movie Pie is actually much less annoying than Book Pie, which I thought was a good decision, as portraying Pie on screen exactly as she was in the book may have made her not only less realistic, but also much less sympathetic.

We've got spirits, yes we do; we've got spirits, how 'bout you?

We’ve got spirits, yes we do; we’ve got spirits, how ’bout you?

As in the book, Pie is happily pregnant and unable to believe her luck at how her life is progressing. Also as in the book, Buddy buys her an adorable puppy that you just know something bad is going to happen to (especially as we’ve earlier seen Col finding a torn-up animal in her garden). Shortly afterward, the puppy is found ripped to pieces (RIP puppy), and though Pie is heartbroken, she goes ahead with a planned housewarming party, so that she can schmooze with her neighbors and show Daddy how high up the social ladder his little girl has climbed.

So here is where the movie parts ways with the book rather significantly. In the movie, everything bad that happens to the Harrelsons comes crashing down all at once; the party seems to be going swimmingly, but partway through, Pie can’t find Buddy and goes to look for him. As she is standing at the top of the basement stairs, Buddy pushes her to the bottom, possessed by some evil within the house. Col finds her and rallies the troops, Pie is carried off in an ambulance (she ends up having a miscarriage, naturally), Buddy is carted off in handcuffs and charged with attempted murder, Pie’s Daddy screams at him that he always knew Buddy was a piece of shit, and that’s the end of the Harrelsons.

In the book, however, the events had a darker and much more batshit quality. Pie actually does fall down the stairs and lose her baby at one point, but it happens earlier in the story, and she is alone in the house at the time. She is found by neighbor Virginia (if I recall correctly), and Col is summoned to help. Despite the miscarriage, Pie decides to go on with the party, since displaying her status to her Daddy is of utmost importance to her. At the party, she loses track of Buddy, but she finds him in a much less murderous frame of mind; in short, he’s indulging in some intensely ass-slapping gay sex with his law partner on the bed where all the guests have been leaving their coats. Not only that, but Pie’s Daddy has found the fuckers first, and is in the process of dying from a shock-induced stroke on the bedroom floor. Now, I can see why the movie chose to downplay the novel’s scenario; public infidelity aside, homosexuality is not shocking or immoral to anyone anymore (aside from a few knuckle-draggers), so the scene would not have played out the same in 2006 as it did in 1978. Additionally, the screenwriter likely thought that the incidents portrayed in the book would have just been too much for audiences to swallow. A caveat, though. The whole M.O. of the house, both in the book and in the film, was that it systematically took away everything that was most important to the people who lived there or came in close contact with it. In the book, the house was very specific in how it chose to destroy the Harrelsons: It took their beloved puppy, then it took Pie’s baby, then it shit all over Buddy’s professional reputation by involving him in a sex scandal with his law partner (which everyone at the party saw, by the way), then it not only had Pie’s Daddy see Buddy in such a compromising position, but it killed Daddy off too, thereby leaving Pie with her life in complete and utter shambles. So while I can see why the movie went in the direction it did, it also seemed to soften the blow for Pie somewhat, as her father didn’t die in the movie, leaving her with something of her old life left to cling to. The book left her no such consolation.

Crabgrass! My life is over! #firstworldproblems

Crabgrass! My life is over! #firstworldproblems

Anyway, as in the book, after the Harrelsons beat cheeks, a new couple called the Sheehans (Anita and Buck) move in. Buck seems pretty similar to how he did in the book, but the character of Anita is quite different. In the book, Anita was a delicate, dark-haired beauty who seemed haunted by something unspoken in her past, but was eager to make friends in the neighborhood despite her still-fragile mental state. During the course of the story, we discover that the Sheehans’ son Toby was killed in a helicopter crash in Vietnam, and Anita had to be institutionalized to deal with her grief. Buck, unable to deal with what had happened, had an affair, which Anita found out about. Through counseling, the couple had reconciled and were well on their way to getting their shit together; Anita was in a much better mental place, Buck had made his amends and had newly committed to their marriage, and things seemed to be looking up when they moved into the house next door, looking for a fresh start.

In the movie, Anita was an average-looking, matronly type with short mom hair and nothing of the ethereal or mysterious about her; in fact, she seemed completely open and friendly when Col and a couple of the other neighbor ladies showed up with flowers and cake to welcome the couple to the neighborhood. Immediately, though, things start going to shit; Anita orders a pizza for the ladies, and when the pizza guy comes to the door, she freaks out, thinking her dead son (killed in Iraq in the movie) is standing on the doorstep. As in the book, she begins to receive mysterious phone calls where she thinks she hears Toby calling to her, and she eventually starts to see the helicopter accident which killed him playing on the television in the living room; unlike in the book, Col is actually a witness to one of these horrific telecasts from beyond. As I said, the plot had to be substantially speeded up due to time constraints, but it was still jarring that Anita flipped out so quickly; in the book it was a much slower progression. And in the book, this was the point where Col only started to suspect that maybe something was wrong with the house; Book Col didn’t actually see the helicopter crash on the TV, but after Buck told her about it, she checked the TV listings and saw that no war movie had been on TV at the time when Anita had seen the vision, thereby making her wonder if something more sinister was going on over there. The rest of the Movie Sheehans’ arc plays out similarly to the book; Anita keeps seeing visions of Toby and loses her marbles, then is pushed over the edge when she sees Buck and Virginia in flagrante delicto. Anita kills herself, Buck moves away, and Virginia flees the neighborhood in shame at what the house made her do.

Part three, with the Greenes, is also fairly similar. Norman Greene is a self-important, tight-assed, abusive asshole with OCD issues, his cowed wife Susan vainly tries to be perfect for him while attempting to maintain a pleasant social face, and their daughter Belinda (who I think was named Melissa or Missy in the book) suffers from some unspecified illness that causes her to have stomachaches and vomit at times inconvenient for her jackwad father. (In the book, Norman is her stepfather, and the girl’s gastrointestinal disease is a source of intense embarrassment for him, so much so that he denies that she has it, claiming that she is simply faking illness for attention. This is touched on in the movie, though it is never explicitly stated that Belinda is anything other than his biological daughter.) As in the book, the Greenes have a party which few people attend because the invitations mysteriously never get mailed, even though Susan is shown getting ready to mail them; also as in the book, Susan is blamed for her “stupidity” in not getting the invitations out. Norman makes the most of the awkward vibe at the party, though, and pontificates at length to his captive audience about how awesome he is and how put-upon he feels at being burdened with such a sub-par and useless family. In the film, the party comes to a screeching halt when Belinda pees herself in front of the party guests (shades of The Exorcist), horrifying her father’s sense of neat-freak propriety. This scene is also substantially toned down from the book, but that’s probably for the best, because it would have been pretty gross to portray as written. In the novel, everyone at the party is alerted by a scream from the kitchen. When they go to investigate, they find Melissa-or-Missy cramped up in a fetal position on the floor, spraying diarrhea all over her white dress, the floor, and her mother, as the illness her father frightened her into ignoring comes to a spectacular head. If I recall correctly, the capper on the evening is the power going out (ruining the “perfect” party Norman had planned), and then coming back on just at the moment when Norman is standing over the blender, which Susan has conveniently left the top off of. Norman is drenched by whatever was in the blender, filthifying him and making his public embarrassment complete. In the book, he furiously runs everyone out of the party, and it comes to light later that after everyone left, there was a blistering argument between Norman and Susan which resulted in Susan finally flipping her shit, and shooting him, her daughter, and then herself. In the movie, this is also toned way down; Susan does end up shooting Norman and herself, but Belinda escapes, fleeing to the Kennedys’ house for help. Lifetime didn’t want to kill off the cute little girl, I guess.

So, what are your qualifications for becoming my new mommy?

So, what are your qualifications for becoming my new mommy?

The rest of the movie plays out in pretty much the same way; architect Kim returns from the trip to Italy he took to get his mojo back, and he buys “his” now-empty house. When he and Col are in there alone, the insidious evil of the house causes them to uncharacteristically act on their previous light flirtations and start going at it, Walter/Walker witnesses the infidelity and attempts to kill them both, but Walker and Col manage to drag themselves out of the house before anything too horrible happens. As in the book, it is this shattering event that finally shows Walter/Walker how evil the house is, and cements his decision to join with his wife and destroy the thing. In the book, Col and Walter actually went to the press to warn people about the house and subsequently had the entire neighborhood shun them; in the movie they never go to the press, but are kinda given slight pariah status just the same because of their theories about the house next door. In the movie, they destroy the house by blowing it up (which I think is pretty much the same thing that happened in the book) and making it look like an accident. Kim is killed in the explosion, which I think also happened in the book, though I’m not entirely sure and don’t have the book with me to check. Similar to the book, the movie ends with Pie and Buddy’s contractor from the beginning of the movie talking to an idealistic new couple about these fantastic house plans he still has from some hot-shit but now deceased architect, and he tells them that he can build the house for them if they want it, because the house on the plans looks “magical and alive.” And thus the cycle of evil continues, even after its emissary is dead. I think the movie was a lot less subtle in its portrayal of Kim as the definite agent of the evil, making him almost seem a willing participant. In the book, it is understood that there is something inside of Kim, a curse of some kind, that causes everything he designs to cause misery and death, but he doesn’t seem complicit in the evil, simply an innocent conduit (though I could have been misreading the text on this score). As in the book, Col and Walter eventually leave their house and move permanently to their beach house to escape the sneers of their neighbors (in the book they also escaped a substantial media frenzy surrounding the haunting; this isn’t really touched on in the movie); unlike in the book, they seem to adopt the surviving Belinda Greene, neatly tying up the several hints in the movie that the Kennedys (or at least Walker) were somewhat bothered by their childlessness. End film.

As I said, not really a bad adaptation at all, especially considering it was a Lifetime movie. It never got too eye-rollingly silly, and moved along at a pretty good clip. Some of the changes made from the novel I agreed with, and some I didn’t, but I can understand why certain changes were made, even though I might not have liked them. Worth checking out if you’re bored and have ninety minutes to kill, but as always, the book is light years better and would obviously be a much more satisfying investment of your time.

Until we meet again, keep it creepy, my friends. Goddess out.

“The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist” is now on Kindle!

Yes, minions, despite my crotchety old person ways, I actually got off my lazy duff and (sloppily) formatted The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist for Kindle! It’s on sale for $2.99, so if you were waiting for an ebook version, TODAY IS YOUR LUCKY DAY! Ebook versions of my other books that don’t yet have them will also be forthcoming in the next few weeks, so if the book-type technology was the only thing keeping you from reading my exalted words, now you no longer have an excuse. Download, read, review! Thank you, and Goddess out.

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An AMAZING Review of “The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist!”

Greetings, paranormal pals! I know you are all on tenterhooks to hear the radio program that the God of Hellfire and I hopefully didn’t make fools of ourselves on, but be patient; the audio file will be forthcoming today or tomorrow. To whet your appetite, check this out right here! UK paranormal magazine Phenomena contains an almost embarrassingly glowing review of our little poltergeist book, written by distinguished British parapsychologist and all-around awesome guy Steve Mera. He has been investigating paranormal phenomena for over thirty years, and I am tremendously humbled and intensely thrilled that he enjoyed our book so much and has put the weight of his professional expertise into recognizing it! You will likely be seeing some more activity involving us and Steve Mera in the future, though I’m keeping that on the down-low for now until everything is a bit further along. The GoH and I may also have a SUPER exciting announcement about The Mammoth Mountain Poltergeist coming very soon; I won’t go into too many details, but television is involved. Sorry to be so secretive, beloved minions, but I like to have everything squared away before I go shooting my mouth off about it; I’m sure you guys understand. So read the new issue of Phenomena, stay tuned to listen to our radio show, and keep your eyes peeled for exciting new developments!

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