4.4/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor

A definitive 4.4/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Haunted House remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Alright, so 1928’s The Haunted House. Is it worth tracking down today? Look, if you’ve got a soft spot for silent-era mysteries, especially the 'old dark house' kind where everyone gathers in a creepy mansion for a will reading, then yeah, absolutely. You’ll probably enjoy its earnest attempts at scares and its often-unintentional humor. But if you’re looking for anything resembling modern pacing or subtle performances, you’ll probably find yourself rolling your eyes pretty quickly. This one’s for the niche crowd, the folks who appreciate the quirks of early cinema.
The setup is classic: four heirs, a big spooky house, a will to be read. And of course, a staff that looks like they moonlight as villains in a carnival sideshow. There’s a nurse, a doctor who seems to have escaped his own asylum, and a handyman who just oozes 'I’m going to kill you with a wrench' energy. It’s all very by-the-numbers, but that’s part of the charm, isn't it?
One of the first things that struck me was the acting. Oh, the acting. Thelma Todd, bless her, is trying. She’s got that wide-eyed ingenue thing down, but sometimes her reactions are so exaggerated, you can almost hear the director yelling 'BIGGER!' from off-screen. There’s a particular shot where she gasps at a shadow, and her eyes just about pop out of her head. It lingers for a good three or four seconds, and you wonder if it’s supposed to be terrifying or just a bit much. It ends up being the latter.
Chester Conklin, though, he’s a delight. He brings a much-needed comedic touch, often just through his presence. His character is mostly there for comic relief, and honestly, the film needed it. Without him, some of those drawn-out 'suspense' scenes would have been a real slog. There's a moment where he tries to sneak a cookie, and the way he glances around, like a nervous bird, is just perfect. It cuts through the melodrama for a second.
The house itself is pretty great. Lots of shadowy corridors, secret passages, and dusty old furniture. The production design really leans into the 'haunted' aspect, even if the actual scares are… well, let’s just say they’re of their time. A lot of flapping curtains and quick cuts to a figure in a sheet. You can feel the movie trying to convince you these moments are terrifying, but mostly they just make you smile.
Pacing is, predictably, a bit uneven. There are long stretches where characters just walk down hallways, or stand around looking suspicious. The title cards do a lot of heavy lifting, explaining motivations that the actors can’t quite convey with just their faces. Sometimes, a title card pops up and completely deflates a moment of tension it just built. Like, 'He realized he was in danger!' – yeah, we saw that, thanks.
There’s a scene where one of the heirs, played by Larry Kent, is trying to explore a secret room. He fumbles with a lantern for what feels like an eternity. The light flickers, he drops it, picks it up again, and then it goes out completely. It’s not particularly scary, but it does manage to build a kind of low-grade anxiety, mostly because you’re just waiting for him to get on with it. It’s almost an anti-tension, a test of patience.
And the costumes! The women's dresses are wonderfully elaborate, but sometimes they feel a little too pristine for a haunted house. Like Thelma Todd’s character is wearing this immaculate white gown through all the dust and cobwebs. You’d think she’d get a smudge or something. It’s a minor detail, but it pulls you out of it for a second.
The chemistry between the main romantic leads is… functional. They meet, they're thrown into danger, they instantly like each other. There’s no real spark, just a kind of 'we’re the attractive leads, so we must be together' vibe. It’s not terrible, but it doesn’t really add much to the film beyond fulfilling a genre expectation.
What surprised me were the moments where the film actually works. There are a few shots, particularly in the later half, where the lighting creates some genuinely unsettling shadows. One specific shot of a silhouetted figure standing in a doorway, framed by moonlight, is quite effective. It’s simple, but it hits. It reminds you that this film had Benjamin Christensen (who directed Häxan) as one of its writers, so some real horror sensibility was in the room, even if it didn't always make it to the screen.
But then, there are also these abrupt tonal shifts. One minute it’s all spooky mystery, the next it’s a slapstick chase scene with someone tripping over a rug. It’s hard to settle into a mood when the film keeps yanking you in different directions. You’re not sure if you should be gasping or giggling.
Overall, The Haunted House is a curious watch. It's a product of its time, full of the charm and awkwardness that comes with silent cinema. It’s not going to keep you up at night, but it might make you appreciate how far the genre has come, and how some tropes never really die. It's a fun, if flawed, little relic for those willing to meet it on its own terms.

IMDb 6.9
1921
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