Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Our House’ on Netflix, an Odd Little Horror Story About Kids Summoning Their Dead Parents

Now on Netflix, Our House features a set prominently displaying a poster of the 1986 remake of The Fly, and it makes a person sad that no one really goes full Cronenberg anymore (besides Rick and Morty, of course). Even the slightest tease of a not particularly probable Full Cronenberg is better than no acknowledgment of Cronenberg at all, I always say. Which isn’t to say this modest little horror film, being rated PG-13, was going to end in an All-Out Melted Insectoid Goldblum, or even much of an homage to such, but hey, it could be halfway decent anyway, right? 

OUR HOUSE: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Ethan (Thomas Mann, the Me of Me and Earl and the Dying Girl) is a college student with this gizmo, see, and he thinks it could change the world. He snaps a switch or three, punches some buttons with satisfying clicks, turns a dial that creates a soothing analog hummmmmm, and a spinning triangle-majig theoretically generates wireless electricity. Theoretically. It doesn’t seem to work. In fact, its failure to illuminate a single bulb causes a campus-wide blackout, and if that seems like it’s going to be a problem at first, and he and his girlfriend Hannah (Nicola Peltz) will tumble into the wormhole they accidentally created, in fact it is not.

The next day, he gets a panicked call: His parents died in a car accident. Three months later, Ethan is back home, taking care of his teenage brother Matt (Percy Hynes White) and their little sister Becca (Kate Moyer). If it wasn’t for the Xbox and smartphones, their house would be a time capsule from 1982 — orange this, brown that, a vintage plastic push-button calendar that makes a CHUNK sound when you switch the day, something that seems to be happening all by itself when Ethan fires up his whirlydoodle in the garage. Odd.

As you’d expect, there’s a cloud of grief hovering above the household. Ethan has dropped out of school to schlep his siblings to school in a Ford Aerostar that probably should have died a decade ago, and work at a shop that looks like it loses money trying to sell gently used Speak and Spell guts on eBay. Matt is sullen, Becca’s teacher says she isn’t socializing with the other kids, the widower neighbor Tom (Robert B. Kennedy) expresses his concern. And then, as all little kids in horror movies do, Becca says she talks to Mom and Dad, and has a new friend named Alice. Is Ethan’s whatchmahoozitz manifesting the dead? Ethan’s skeptical until the vintage stereo starts tuning its own radio stations, and Matt and Becca play three-person catch with one of her dolls, except there’s only two visible persons. Is this situation gonna get worse before it gets better? Good lord I hope so.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: The retro textures of that home give off a bit of an ’80s Poltergeistish aroma, crossed with a more earnest version of It Follows‘ tonal sensibility.

Performance Worth Watching: Mann is a valuable, grounding presence in Our House. He sidesteps the trappings of the skeptical-older-sibling character, assuring the movie is about the grieving process, and deepening its emotional content.

Memorable Dialogue: “I was half expecting to find a DeLorean in here,” Tom quips when he’s invited into Ethan’s garage.

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: Our House is a place of madness, but the crazy stuff isn’t its strong suit. No, its domestic-drama dynamics are far more interesting than the smoke tendrils and eerie shadows that appear in this family’s cozy abode — Ethan is capable of taking care of his brother and sister, but he’s also still young, barely not a kid, and therefore susceptible to the desire to soothe the pain of their loss by finding a way for them to see their parents again, even if it means violating the knowns laws of physics with his sci-fi-seance machine. Wiser people would move on from the terrifying unknowns these kids encounter, but they’re desperate, possibly because Ethan keeps buying them greasy takeout dinner and letting the dishes pile up.

The first two-thirds of the film is a not-half-bad hybrid-genre horror-rumination, modest and understated with strong character development, fetishy visual textures and an intriguing mystery. But, not counting the Cronenberg nod, the movie teases something better than the blase haunted-house story it becomes in the third act. Hidden doors in the basement will be revealed, people will walk… very… slowly… through the house and not bother to turn on a light, etc. Nothing gets outsmarted, really, just smashed with a baseball bat. Too bad.

Our Call: STREAM IT. Our House is tight for a while and sloppy down the stretch, but still features enough quality filmmaking and strong performances to make it worth a watch.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Stream Our House on Netflix