Trying to sell a home in today's market can truly be scary. After all, while mortgage rates are at levels most of us never thought we'd see again, many would-be buyers are skittish about the economy and their financial security, and those willing to take the plunge are finding it hard to get the banks to loan them money.
Then there's the fact that there's an enormous glut of homes for sale, meaning prospective sellers really need to do everything in their power to make their place enticing. That ranges from setting the right price to sprucing up the curb appeal and cleaning out the clutter, spirits included, and I'm not talking alcohol.
Yes, the ghosts must go, because few people want that "lived in" feel where their new place still seems, well, lived in vis-à-vis death. If that sounds like the makings for a supernatural comedy, where the spirits try to undermine the efforts to sell their place (think something along the lines of "Beetlejuice"), you'd be right.
Sadly, "The Haunting in Connecticut" isn't a comedy, at least of the intentional variety. Instead, it's designed as a spooky film that admittedly has a few decently staged and executed jump scenes. Beyond that, however, it's just more of the same old, same old haunted house style material, botched by ham-fisted direction, bad/uneven pacing, and far too many flashbacks to explain the genesis of all that goes bump in the night.
In fact, the whole thing's a flashback, as we start with a survivor's recounting of what occurred, and then rewind back to the beginning. Tired of the hours-long drive to and from the hospital for cancer treatments for teenager Matt (Kyle Gallner), his mom (Virginia Madsen, really slumming it here, presumably for the paycheck) finds the closest, cheapest and most readily available place and moves in.
They're soon joined by the dad (Martin Donovan, occasionally seemingly channeling a little James "Amityville" Brolin as the off-kilter pop), younger siblings (Sophi Knight and Ty Wood in forgettable roles), and older cousin (Amanda Crew, ditto, save for the inevitable shower scene). Oh, there's that other boy (Erik J. Berg) who also lives there, stuck in those flashback scenes when not appearing in the present as a charred corpse who likes to sneak up on people.
The filmmakers -- director Peter Cornwell and screenwriters Adam Simon & Tim Metcalfe -- pretty much let a good storytelling opportunity slip through their fingers. As hallucinations are one of the possible side effects of the experimental treatment the young cancer patient is taking, he and his mom are obviously concerned that his visions are just that.
Unwisely, the viewer isn't allowed to fall into that same state, what with the credit roll images of mortuary activities and general hit you over the head foreshadowing that's present. Likewise, the thematically interesting (if certainly unoriginal) bit about those close to death being able to see those who've passed away but not passed on (due to those pesky unresolved afterlife issues that make them stick around) doesn't have any sort of decent, moving or interesting payoff.
With that potential suspense out of the way, all we're left with are the usual trappings of the genre. You know, where the hauntings and other supernatural material progressively escalate from minor to major occurrences (for some reason, all such cinematic ghosts appear to get a certain sadistic satisfaction from the slowly building torment rather than charging full speed right out of the gate), along with too many moments of what's presumably homage to past horror flicks.
It's one thing to do that occasionally and/or subtly, but Cornwell and company lay it on so thickly that it becomes something of a joke, as moments lifted from and/or inspired by the likes of "The Others," "The Shining," "The Birds," "Psycho," "Poltergeist," "The Exorcist" and other predecessors start piling up like so many bodies in the walls.
That, coupled with an increasingly preposterous plot (even for this genre) and the bumbled way in which it's presented to viewers elicits the unintentional laughs. But at least they alleviate, if just temporarily, the rampant boredom that sets in long before Gallner does his best Jack "Here's Johnny" Nicholson, ax-wielding bit, Elias Koteas strikes a world-weary Father Merrin pose arriving at the house at night, and so on.
The fact that all of his hooey is reportedly based on a true story (the obligatory on-screen text tells us so) is obviously supposed to make it all the more creepy. Other than a few effective if easy to pull off jump scenes, about the only frightening thing present -- beyond being so bored that the mind wanders back to the prospect of selling one's home in today's market -- is the all-too-obvious reminder that few filmmakers nowadays can make truly scary movies, rather than resorting to the trite tricks of the grade. "A Haunting in Connecticut" should face cinematic foreclosure and thus rates as just a 3 out of 10.
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