Insidious – 3 Buckets

Good horror filmmaking is a lost art. Ask any intelligent moviegoer about the current state of the genre and you’re likely to get a negative response chastising a) the grotesqueness of torture-pornos like the Saw films, b) the unnecessariness of bad remakes like the recent Nightmare on Elm Street or Friday the 13th, and/or c) the overwhelming number of PG-13 screamers made solely to sell tickets to teenagers. Indeed, films from these three categories make up about 90 percent of horror today, which is enough to cause all but diehard fans of the genre to avoid the latest releases.

While such skepticism is understandable, I cannot stress enough that James Wan’s Insidious is an exception to the rule, an old-fashioned haunted-house flick that is not to be missed. Not only does the film boast an ample supply of thrills and chills–a rarity in and of itself–it is also deeply in love with the once-great tradition of horror filmmaking, paying homage to the style and spirit of the genre. Wan, ironically, also made the first Saw film, setting off one of the most reprehensible horror franchises of the new millennium. But with Insidious, he has redeemed himself, giving the doubters among us faith that good, clean scares still have a place in Hollywood.

Rose Byrne and Patrick Wilson, two unusually seasoned actors for this type of material, play parents Josh and Renai Lambert, who have just moved their family of five into a nice (but appropriately foreboding) new house. Not even completely unpacked, tragedy strikes. One morning, their eldest son, 8-year-old Dalton (Ty Simpkins), does not wake up. They rush him to the hospital, where the doctors can’t find anything wrong with him; despite a nasty fall in the attic the night before, his brain scan shows no signs of trauma. Three months later, Dalton is still comatose, but he can be cared for at home. Shortly after he moves back in, however, scary things begin to happen. Renai hears and catches glimpses of people in other rooms and swears she is in danger… even odder, all of the activity seems to be taking place around Dalton.

This all seems like a fairly standard haunted house set-up, and it is. Don’t expect the Lamberts to call the cops when there is trouble; that would be too logical for horror characters. But Byrne and Wilson make you forget the impracticality of it all in the moment. They feel like a real couple who have been affected by tragedy, to the point at which she may be having hallucinations and he distances himself from the family, working late as an excuse. In most other horror movies, you can’t wait to be done with the exposition and get to the action; here, the performances make the set-up rich enough that you don’t mind being teased. Furthermore, as things get crazier and crazier–without giving too much away, I will say that the story prominently features demons and astral projection before too long–the acting helps the material keep a connection with reality. Sure, the performances are often hammy and genre-appropriate (especially cooky turns from Barbara Hershey and Lin Shaye, playing Josh’s mother and the psychic she recommends, respectively), but it’s a strong sign that the characters feel like people. By the third act, the film has gone in a direction that is not overtly scary, so the work of the actors is critical to keeping the viewer’s interest.

Of course, spending too much time on the performances would dishonor director Wan’s role as the puppeteer, the true star of the show. He has made a traditional horror film that is oozing in style, greeting the viewer at the onset with loud strings over the titles, signaling the thrashing that they are in for. Furthered by the vaguely gothic / Victorian architecture of the Lambert’s new house and captured through David M. Bower and John R. Leonett’s desaturated cinematography, Wan’s orchestration puts the viewer on edge from the beginning, unquestionably the mark of an effective horror film. Then, even as somewhat conventional gotcha-moments follow, the director’s refreshingly old-fashioned style makes the proceedings endearing and engaging. By the time the movie reaches its first big plot-twist (of two)–a gleefully absurd 180 that comes out of nowhere, paying tribute to many horror films of yesteryear–Wan is at the height of his power. The movie ventures farther and farther “out there” and the audience is completely willing to go right along with it, because Wan paces and conveys the narrative with such apparent love for his craft. Insidious is enamored by the idea of quality horror, an admirable notion only made better by the fact that it stands a quality horror film itself.

Insidious doesn’t do anything radically new, but in its own way, telling a classic story well is radical when the movie in question belongs to the modern horror genre. Wan’s film is very similar to Ti West’s also terrific, slow-burn House of the Devil in the way that it takes horror back to its roots, only this will play on about 25 times the screens that that film did. With the help of audiences, whose support at the box office is vital, Insidious may just be able to pave the way for a renewed genre. Perhaps I’m being overly optimistic, but it is a testament to the movie’s supreme style and entertainment value that I would even consider such a notion.

* * *

Insidious (2011, USA). Produced by Jason Blum, Jeanette Brill, Brian Kavanaugh-Jones, John R. Leonetti, Oren Peli, Steven Schneider, and Aaron Sims. Directed by James Wan. Written for the screen by Leigh Whannell. Starring Patrick Wilson, Rose Byrne, Ty Simpkins, Andrew Astor, Lin Shaye, Leigh Whannell, Angus Sampson, and Barbara Hershey. Distributed by FilmDistrict. Rated PG-13 with a running time of 102 minutes.