The Haunting of Hill House (Cont.): Film Platypus

After finishing Netflix's The Haunting of Hill House, all I can really say is that if you can stomach restrained and artistic horror, watch this series. It did not end the way I thought it would. I could not predict the twists and turns. It is a work of art that transcends its genre.

Like Eliot's poetry, there's something so specific about Flannagan's re-interpretation of Jackson's novel that it becomes universal. There are all kinds of things I never experienced depicted in the ten hour series and yet it felt as if it was speaking directly to me. It's about a family that starts in New England and when the parent's dream falls apart, the family moves to California. The eldest son wants to be a writer. Mental illness runs in the family. The youngest sibling has an interracial marriage. There's infertility. Siblings move across country and keep contact by phone -or not. And, of course, the haunting. Those are the similarities I'm willing to commit to print.

In the end, I think Flanagan achieves his stated goal; he uses horror to sneak past the watchful dragons and to talk about things we fear to talk about directly.

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