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7.1/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 7.1/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Dream House remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you're into dusty, weird cinema from back in the day, sure. Go for it. If you need a plot that actually makes sense from start to finish, you’re gonna have a bad time. Dream House feels like someone took a bunch of random sketches and glued them together with duct tape and good intentions.
It’s the kind of movie that makes you wonder what they were eating on set. Everything feels just a little bit off-center. I found myself checking the runtime more than once, not because I was bored, but because the pacing is just… strange. It skips beats like a scratched record.
Bing Crosby is in this, which is the main reason anyone remembers it exists. Seeing him navigate this chaotic house is like watching a guy try to keep a straight face while his living room is actively exploding. It’s not high art. It’s barely a coherent story. But there’s a certain charm to the way the cast just throws themselves into the bit.
The scene where the furniture placement goes totally haywire? It lasts about two minutes too long. The silence between the actors is deafening. It’s weirdly hypnotic.
Compared to the structured pacing of something like The Christian, this movie feels like it was put together by people who were making it up as they went along. It lacks the gravitas of The Deemster, but maybe that's the point? Or maybe there was no point at all.
I caught myself laughing at the wrong moments. There's a door slamming bit that is so repetitive it stops being funny and becomes… well, a character study in endurance. I actually felt bad for the prop guy. 🏚️
It’s a rough watch. It’s messy. It’s barely a movie, really. But for some reason, I didn't turn it off. Maybe I just wanted to see if they’d ever actually fix the house. Spoiler: they don't.