Liam Neeson And Owen Wilson's Supernatural Horror Movie Is A Late '90s Visual Delight

Shirley Jackson's "The Haunting of Hill House" draws us into its gothic, macabre world even before we set our sights on the titular mansion. When we finally see the scary residence, Jackson's haunting prose etches the picture of a house that observes and reacts to human presence, being every bit sentient as its inhabitants. The true horror, however, lies in the unspoken fears evoked by such a horrible, surreal place. When the mansion brings out the worst anxieties in our protagonist, Eleanor Vance, it's hard not to slip into her shoes and absorb some of her fears.

As the key to capturing the heart of Jackson's chilling tale is to explore these subtleties, few adaptations have managed to reinvent the book's premise on its own terms. The most effective and notable effort (so far) is Mike Flanagan's "The Haunting of Hill House," which uses Jackson's haunted house tale as a loose foundation to navigate grief and its generational hold over the Crain family. While Flanagan's tale enriches the novel's world by diving deep into character-psyche, Robert Wise's eponymous 1963 adaptation delivers a serviceable, surface-level interpretation of Jackson's work. Although deeply flawed, Wise's version is an unforgettable visual spectacle, thanks to cinematographer Davis Boulton's clever use of light and shadow to induce fright and claustrophobia.

However, there's a third oft-forgotten adaptation of Jackson's novel that did well at the box office, despite receiving mostly negative reviews from critics. I'm talking about 1999's "The Haunting," which doesn't have much going for it except some grand, gorgeous set design. But pretty aesthetics cannot salvage a horror title that isn't frightening or suspenseful, nor can it mask the absolute lack of depth it brandishes from start to finish. This is a shame, as the film stars some really capable actors, including the scene-stealing Lili Taylor, whose shining presence is complemented by Liam Neeson, Owen Wilson, and Catherine Zeta-Jones' listless characters. So what exactly went wrong here?

During the film's initial stages, "The Haunting" was intended as a remake of Wise's 1963 adaptation and began as a collaboration between Steven Spielberg (!) and Stephen King. While this could have been a solid creative team-up, fate had other plans, as King and Spielberg couldn't keep working together due to creative differences. Although Spielberg commissioned a screenplay for the film in an effort to keep going, he later approached Jan de Bont ("Speed," "Twister") and offered to helm "Minority Report" in exchange for Bont taking over "The Haunting." In retrospect, this was a good move, as Spielberg's approach to the Philip K. Dick adaptation is both sharp and thought-provoking, highlighting his strengths as a blockbuster filmmaker.

On the flip side, de Bont proved to be ill-suited for a character-driven horror title, even though he rewired the film's focus by prioritizing Jackson's source material. All the ingredients required to make a compelling adaptation were present: an interior design team that understood the appeal of gothic horror, a cinematographer (Karl Walter Lindenlaub of "Stargate" and "Independence Day") that could bring this vision to life, and a stacked cast brimming with talent. 

However, de Bont's treatment of the premise is so lackluster and devoid of thrills that "The Haunting" is barely acknowledged when we talk about the book it adapts. Such treatment is somewhat warranted, as the film feels shallower than Wise's haunted house horror, which genuinely manages to frighten and let our imagination run wild.

What does work here are the set pieces, which are both beautiful and striking. A chunk of the interior sets were built inside the airlift flying boat Hughes H-4 Hercules, which used to sport housing spaces before its operational crew disbanded in 1976. Production designer Eugenio Zanetti injected these sets with grand, awe-inspiring Gothic designs that convey opulence and latent fear, evoking the sentient quality that Jackson's ominous Hill House is supposed to embody. 

Alas, no amount of gloomy, terrifying indoor spaces can entrap us in a gothic world that doesn't have meaningful stakes and focuses on characters that feel like underwritten afterthoughts.