The Little Stranger

This film offers all the features of a psychological thriller without the huge reveal, which makes it more satisfying for the cerebral viewer. First and foremost this film is beautifully shot. You are immediately immersed in into the era of the 1940's. As a viewer you become a sort of voyeur given a front row seat into the lives of a once prestigious now decaying family. The acting was stellar, each character so well defined that you feel you have known them without ever having been introduced. The home in which the story surrounds itself around remains majestic despite the toll time and grief have left up on it. Who hasn't fallen in love with a home on first sight? A house on a hill that is just out of reach but you can still hear the music below from parties it is hosting. That type of longing to be a part of a home's the history is central to the storyline of this movie. But for one man this is more than love, it's a complete and total obsession. And not just due to the beauty of the architectural structure but also of the social status the home carries with it. A draw so powerful to a little boy that he is not only haunted by it his entire life, he metaphysically (or perhaps physically) haunts it in return. The home symbolizes his deep infatuation to belong, to be in a class above his own. It represents his mother's approval. His father's approval. Society's approval. In reality the home is falling apart, a figure of the past, something once grand now just a shadow of its former self. While the people who live in the home recognize and are resigned to its deterioration, the main character can't see beyond what the home represented to him as a child. It remains the epitomy of all he wants in life. Towards the end of the film one is left with the impression that the main character may have had a hand in more than one death that occurred on the property. And perhaps involved in the single death that the entire movie revolves around that eventually propelled the home into decay. Whether he or fate played a part in his eventual ownership of the property, you are left with the distinct feeling the home has found the owner it deserved. Two forces that were destined to be together regardless of carnage it left in its wake.

We saw this in a very quiet theater with older adults (so are we). I love British films. The restraint. The smoldering sexuality that never quite expresses itself. All those pent up emotions. Can they become ghosts? But I kept thinking, what am I watching? Horror? Ghost story? Love story? Psychological drama? Mental illness transference? This is a very, very, very slow burn. Lots of loneliness. Long shots. Quiet moments. What are we seeing? Is it ambiguous? Or straight forward? Is someone up to something? Did Caroline almost get it right? Frankly, I think so but a little too late.