When Haunted Mansion finally found its legs in the development pipeline, at least one of the goals was to cleanse the sour taste left in audience’s mouths by 2003’s The Haunted Mansion, and have fun doing so. To that end, the reboot succeeds with flying colors; in a pound-for-pound comparison of the two, Justin Simien‘s latest directorial effort is far-and-away superior.
Of course, making a better movie than The Haunted Mansion is the cinematic equivalent of boiling half a cup of water, and unfortunately, one can’t help but think that that was genuinely the only goal they had in mind with this film. Indeed, despite clearly being more than capable of going further than the handful of highs it did reach, Haunted Mansion seems all but disinterested in living up to its potential beyond “the better Haunted Mansion movie.”
We open to LaKeith Stanfield‘s Ben Matthias, a grieving former astrophysicist who gives up his career after his wife Alyssa is killed in a car accident, subsequently taking up her job as a haunted locale tour in New Orleans despite being adamant about his disbelief in ghosts.
It’s a fine enough setup for the protagonist, but the overall opening to Haunted Mansion is rife with some surprisingly subtle strengths; Ben’s lack of patience for some of his tour groups is painfully relatable, the “nope” ethos quickly adopted by Gabbie (Rosario Dawson) and her son Travis (Chase W. Dillon) after learning of the mansion’s ghosts is played markedly well (particularly by the young Dillon, whose performance stood out among a cast of highly-accomplished names), and there’s something infinitely humorous about the phantom Mariner – the ghost that ended up following Ben home – haunting the protagonist by refusing to let the television play anything other than Deadliest Catch (he later hurls a harpoon at Ben’s head, but the bit has done its job by then nevertheless).
After it becomes clear that Ben and company will need to go toe-to-tombstone with the ghosts to free themselves, they begin recruiting Disney’s answer to the Ghostbusters by seeking out the help of gung-ho historian Bruce Davis (Danny DeVito) and headstrong psychic Harriet (Tiffany Haddish). And just like that, the gang is all together.
Haddish immediately emerges as the MVP, playing Harriet with inch-perfect levels of tension and humor, effectively stealing the show with line after line of chuckle-worthy dialogue; a supply which, at times, seemed reserved for her alone. Stanfield, DeVito, and Dawson, meanwhile, while not nearly reaching the heights that Haddish did, pulled just the weight they needed to in order to stitch together the chemistry one would expect from such an ensemble.
Tragically enough, Haddish’s ability to chow down on the scenery had a hand in exposing some of the film’s key weaknesses. Harriet’s arc, despite being very obviously secondary to that of Ben’s and even Travis’, felt far more engaging than the main emotional meat of the narrative, which is indicative of both her excellent performance and the lack of harmony between director Justin Simien and scribe Katie Dippold.
Dippold’s script, or what was left of it after whatever meddling the studio did with it, was serviceable enough; the plot is exactly what you would expect from a family-friendly Disney blockbuster that has no interest in breaking the mold, and the stronger bits of dialogue (which, again, mostly went to Haddish) only just edged out the weaker ones.
It struggles immensely, however, in getting us to invest to Ben’s arc, which amounted to spotty confrontations of his grief that do little more than remind us that the main character had an arc (or a skeleton of one, more accurately) at all. Though perhaps its worst offense is the egregiously telegraphed plot twist, which was so insultingly predictable that even the reaction to its reveal from the characters fell drastically short of believable.
Simien’s direction wasn’t much stronger, with the occasional well-crafted set piece overshadowed by withholding too much breathing room for a number of scenes that would have benefited from much more attention. The most notable victims of this style are those that portray any close calls encountered by the heroes, and while there’s something to be said about not playing up the tension for scenes that will obviously end in success for the good guys, Simien’s gamble – if that’s what it was – didn’t pay off.
If Haddish and Dillon are the strongest links the cast’s chain, then the weakest would have to be Owen Wilson’s Father Kent. While not a complete misfire, one might be forgiven for thinking that he’s meant to be in a different movie. Wilson’s comedic style simply does not fit the memo of Haunted Mansion, and it doesn’t help that Dippold gave him the worst dialogue, which veers quite densely into uninspired strokes of self-awareness and jarring subtextual exposition.
Still, while they slow to a snail’s pace after the opening scenes, there are still a few notable moments of excellent comedic timing; Hasan Minhaj’s sketch artist scene remains just as gut-busting as when we first saw it in the trailer, and each instance of interplay between the ensemble averages at least one charming interaction that keeps the train chugging along. Unfortunately, the many signs of competence suggest that this team is more than capable of crafting something much better than this, but they seem content in settling for something mildly passable instead.
Credit where credit is due, though, Kris Bowers’ score is all sorts of excellent in expertly capturing the story’s dire straits, reflective musings, and bumbling shenanigans to great effect, and perhaps playing the biggest non-acting role in elevating Haunted Mansion‘s overall presentation. And, while it ultimately isn’t much to write home about, the decision to include an honest jumpscare – one that wouldn’t be terribly out of place in a regular horror – at least showed a passing willingness to not totally bend to the whims of the Mouse House; a move that might earn Haunted Mansion a hint of extra respect or two.
All-in-all, Haunted Mansion will likely go on to be haunted by the ghosts of its unrealized potential, and given how flatly that potential was squandered by its wildly uneven artistic merits that had no business being as messy as they were, one will struggle to feel sorry for the overall failure that permeates the walls, even if there’s some fun to be had here and there.
