“That house is not fit to live in. No one’s been able to live in it. It doesn’t want people.”
Death is a big part of horror as a genre. So why isn’t grief? It’s not completely unexplored territory, as films both classic (Don’t Look Now) and contemporary (Hereditary, Midsommar) tackle the issue, but it’s a part of life that is often…well, not overlooked, by maybe shied away from. It’s as if the genre itself doesn’t want to deal with the messy ramifications of what it depicts. Grief is a difficult, troubling motion to express in any medium, but that’s especially true of film, which is so much more collaborative than, say, writing a book or a song. Grief is not a problem you can solve, and maybe that’s why displays of such naked emotion unnerve us so. The Changeling is decidedly about grief, and while the film has lost none of its power to terrify, what’s most captivating is the personal story at its core.
Peter Medak’s film starts with an unspeakable tragedy (one that might have inspired Ari Aster’s Midsommar, in fact), as John Russell’s wife and daughter are killed in a freak accident while he’s calling for a tow truck. The film doesn’t sensationalize this, and it makes excellent use of withholding; it’s not until we see John’s agonized, unbelieving face that the title card appears. Here, we are told, is where The Changeling begins. The past truly is prologue. The loss of John’s family will inform every decision he makes throughout the film, but with the way the title card bifurcates the movie, it’s as though it happened to someone else, maybe in a dream, or a nightmare.
John relocates from New York to Seattle, fleeing across the country in an attempt to outrun his grief and bury himself in composing new music, teaching new students. He takes up residence in a house recommended to him by Claire Norman, who works for the Historical Preservation Society. The house in Chessman Park (named in honor of Cheesman Park, right here in Denver, where the events that inspired this film purportedly took place) is one of the great Gothic old ladies, reminiscent of Shirley Jackson’s Hill House or Richard Matheson’s Belasco Mansion or Poe’s House of Usher. Old houses have long memories.
The Changeling is somewhat unique among haunted house movies in that it knows the beats it’s expected to hit, does so dutifully, but never satirizes or pokes fun at the genre. Its real coup is in the casting of George C. Scott as John, and Scott never comes across like he thinks this material is beneath him. Watch him, and imagine the disdain for the material you’d see if the role were played by Anthony Hopkins, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, or any actors of that stature. Scott was one of the greatest of American actors, and here he imbues John with the pathos and intensity that were a hallmark of Scott’s body of work, seen in films as wide-ranging as Dr. Strangelove, Patton, The Exorcist III, and Hard Core (and the man can really take a football to the groin). Every second that Scott is on screen he captivates, and you see not only the character’s unbearable grief (there’s a scene, shocking in its emotionality, of nothing more than John crying in bed), but also the actor’s commitment to and love of his craft.
Some older horror films have diminished power while still remaining technically impressive. The Changeling is not one of those films. The plot gets a little convoluted nearer the end, but the scares, when they come, are masterful. Medak gets a lot of mileage out of stillness: an empty wheelchair at the top of a staircase, a ball bouncing down to John’s feet. And all the while, the score by Rick Wilkins, underscores the film perfectly, with its elegiac piano and darkly inquisitive strings. The score is also a terrific accompaniment to John as a character; he’s a pianist and composer, and the score wisely eschews Carpenter-style synths in favor of something more classical.
Where The Changeling really shines is in its performances. Scott, as mentioned, is terrific; Trish Van Devere (Scott’s wife; this was the eighth film they’d appeared in together) acquits herself nicely as Claire, but the script doesn’t do her a ton of favors, and beyond that it’s hard to compete with a powerhouse like George C. Scott. The film is full of solid supporting turns, none stronger than Helen Burns as Leah Harmon, a medium who comes to talk to the entity haunting John’s temporary house. As Leah communicates with the beyond, she scribbles endlessly on sheets of paper, and her monotone becomes almost hypnotic. It lulls you into a trance. Burns is so confident in her delivery, so natural and commanding, so possessed of her character, that the scene becomes impossible to look away from. In terms of one-scene performances, Burns’ ranks up there with Ned Beatty in Network, or Viola Davis in Doubt. Watch The Changeling and tell me that I’m wrong.
The Changeling stands tall not just because of its effectiveness as a horror film; or the all-around solid performances from the cast; or the sense of creeping dread and crushing trauma that pervade every scene. The reason this film endures is because of its humanity. It treats its characters as human beings; even the ostensible villain of the film breaks down in tears before John apologizes to him. Grief, trauma, pain: these are universal experiences. There is nothing unique about them; there is everything unique about them. The Changeling is not bleak, but it is sad – beyond that, though, there is a glimmer of hope. Every life means something. Every person is a human; every human is a person. You can see it in Scott’s eyes.
Thursday, 10/1: Phantasm
Friday, 10/2: Frozen
Saturday, 10/3: Suspiria
Sunday, 10/4: Suspiria (2018)
Monday, 10/5: Emelie
Tuesday, 10/6: Castle Freak
Wednesday, 10/7: Session 9
Thursday, 10/8: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2
Friday, 10/9: We Are Still Here
Saturday, 10/10: The Changeling
Sunday, 10/11: The Bad Seed
Monday, 10/12: Verotika
Tuesday, 10/13: The Legend of Hell House
Wednesday, 10/14: Lake Mungo
Thursday, 10/15: Puppetmaster
Friday, 10/16: Marrowbone
Saturday, 10/17: A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master
Sunday, 10/18: Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers
Monday, 10/19: Sweetheart
Tuesday, 10/20: Girl On the Third Floor
Wednesday, 10/21: Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon
Thursday, 10/22: Triangle
Friday, 10/23: Dog Soldiers
Saturday, 10/24: Noroi: The Curse
Sunday, 10/25: Train to Busan
Monday, 10/26: Tales From the Hood
Tuesday, 10/27: Mandy
Wednesday, 10/28: Sometimes They Come Back
Thursday, 10/29: Veronica
Friday, 10/30: The Wicker Man
Saturday, 10/31: Child’s Play
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