Dear The House of the Devil,

How are you?  I am fine.  I wanted to write and tell you I missed you.  Well, not you, exactly, but what you are.  See, back in the early 1980s, when I was but a young pup, I watched every horror movie I could, not because I ran a website devoted to the genre, but because I loved to be scared.  I would turn out the lights, curl under a comforter in the refinished basement, the one that had only the merest sliver of a window at the top of the far wall... you know the one - the one that I kept thinking any evening would frame a stranger's face with glowing eyes peering in at me -  then I would hit play on the old RCA VCR that never stopped flashing 12:00... 12:00... 12:00.  In those days, horror movies didn't just entertain me, they scared me.  And I loved them for it.

Over the years, horror became a bit more cynical, trading the slow tensions of the traditional horror film for the instant gratification of the action horror movie, like Aliens or the Dawn of the Dead remake, and that was fun, because it was new.  Sometimes, even comedy was mixed into the movies, making me laugh along with the exploding heads and lawnmower eviscerations.  But, somewhere along the line, I stopped being scared.  I still loved them, those red-painted slices of death on film, but it had become a platonic, scare-less love.

Something changed recently, though.  All the filmmakers that were in their own high-windowed basements grew up, right along with me.  A lot of them embraced the more radical gorefests that became so popular in the '80s, like Re-animator.  But some, a very few, remembered the time before that, when movies like The Tenant and The Omen relied on atmosphere and mood, music and acting.  That's why I'm writing you, The House of the Devil.  You remember that, too.  Your director, Ti West, must have remembered it, because he filled you with the creeping dread of those films, helped by a minimalist score by Jeff Grace that builds to full orchestral terror by the end, and a performance from the girl who plays the lead, Samantha (Jocelin Donahue), that is more than noteworthy.  Also, Tom Noonan (Manhunter) and Mary Woronov (Night of the Comet, The Devil's Rejects) are wonderfully creepy as Mr. and Mrs. Ulman.  Ti West must have loved those babysitter-in-jeopardy stories, too, and how many movies back then used that old standby, the Devil, to scare people.

I know a lot of younger viewers, unfamiliar with the not-so-distant history of horror, will think you are slow or even boring, but don't listen to them.  They grew up in a different age, when it was easier to shine the light on the thing you were supposed to be afraid of in all its slime-dripping glory than it was to slowly reveal, to let music and lighting make every moment a little more tense, a little more unnerving.  The shocks that you give us are few, but they are good ones (especially the one  with Sam's friend, Megan (Greta Gerwig), but I won't spill the beans on that one if you won't), and your final moments play like a mad dash through hell.

are slow, or even boring, but don't listen to them.  They grew up in a different age, when it was easier to shine the light on the thing you were supposed to be afraid of in all its slime-dripping glory than it was to slowly reveal, to let music and lighting make every moment a little more tense, a little more unnerving.  The shocks that you give us are few, but they are good ones (especially the one  with Sam's friend, Megan (Greta Gerwig), but I won't spill the beans on that one if you won't), and your final moments play like a mad dash through hell.

I love your soundtrack (why don't they write 'em like that anymore, Mr. Kihn?), I love your slow and deliberate pacing, I love the grainy look of you.  Because you remember, too.  And when you began, I thought, what if you showed me your title with the copyright and everything?  And you did.  You got it all just right.  But you are more than just an homage, aren't you?  I have to let you in on something, and this is where it gets a little embarrassing.  You scared me, too.  After seeing you, I found myself at home, and, when the heat kicked on and rattled the ducts, I jumped.  Me, after all these years, after all those movies - the guy who hasn't been scared since [REC] gave me the wigguns - found myself turning on the lights a little faster than normal.  I wanted to write you and let you know that it was you that scared me for the first time this year, even if I don't believe in demons and the Devil.  You made me believe for a little while.

who hasn't been scared since [REC] gave me the wigguns - found myself turning on the lights a little faster than normal.  I wanted to write you and let you know that it was you that scared me for the first time this year, even if I don't believe in demons and the Devil.  You made me believe for a little while.

I don't think I can review you completely objectively as a result.  Not because you aren't very well made, and with a craft that borders on the artistic, but because you generated a completely subjective response in me, and I love you a little for that.  So, I'll tell everyone to see you, and when the young 'uns don't like you, or those more jaded than me dismiss you, I'll understand, but I'll never forget that jump - after the movie, after the doors were locked - that jump that made me smile, even as my heart skipped a beat.  Thank you for being scary.

Your fan,

Bo