THE HAUNTING IN CONNECTICUT. Like “Haunted Houses”

The value of films based on true events usually depends on the story told on screen itself. If it’s fascinating, the filmmakers’ and actors’ role is simply to present it to the audience as accurately and effectively as possible. If the story alone evokes strong emotions and keeps viewers glued to their seats for the entire runtime, the director doesn’t need to artificially enhance it in any way (see: Clint Eastwood’s Changeling). Complex formal experiments are reserved only for stories that are less engaging—and thus not inherently compelling. In such cases, the director takes a mediocre story and dresses it up nicely, slapping a “BASED ON TRUE EVENTS” sticker on it to boost sales.

That’s the product delivered to audiences, typically generating interest right away… At first glance, this seems to be the case with the horror film The Haunting in Connecticut (2009).

But only seemingly so, because there’s more here than just an average story. What makes it intriguing is the subject it tackles—paranormal phenomena, which always evoke strong emotions in certain audience groups. This complexity is heightened by the question of credibility. After all, there are viewers who automatically see the terms METAPHYSICS and FACT as mutually exclusive. For this group, the film is fiction and nothing more; the magic of a true event simply doesn’t work on them, making them especially demanding viewers.

And this is where the filmmakers have a real challenge. They must go out of their way to make the viewer who rejects the “BASED ON TRUE EVENTS” label at least fall under the illusion that they are witnessing something authentic.

It’s not about convincing anyone to change their worldview or believe in ghosts, spirits, or hauntings. Absolutely not. The director’s task is only to make even the most skeptical viewer believe in the film’s internal truth—contained within its own fictional universe.

So I ask: keeping all this in mind, did Peter Cornwell succeed in effectively selling his moderately interesting story to a) believers (loosely defined), and b) non-believers (loosely defined)? I’ll try to answer this below…The film’s origin lies in events from the late 1980s in Southington, Connecticut. An average American family moves into an abandoned house on Meriden Avenue.

Shortly after moving in, they discover that the house used to be a funeral home. Paranormal phenomena begin to occur. When the situation becomes unbearable, the family contacts — who else? — Ed and Lorraine Warren, America’s go-to demonologists and paranormal researchers, founders of the New England Society for Psychic Research. With their help, the family uncovers the secrets of the house and confronts the supernatural…

As you can see, the story itself is pure cliché—even if we assume it was “written” by life itself. A documentary based on it aired on TV and caught the attention of producer Andrew Trapani. He found the material interesting enough to track down one of the story’s protagonists for an interview. As a result, filming began on The Haunting in Connecticut, a film that applies visual and narrative modifications (read: formal and content enhancement) to events from two decades earlier.

I wonder: why did Andrew Trapani consider this story interesting? One can only assume he wanted to give audiences what they’re not afraid to fear—and thus what he himself wasn’t afraid to fear. People like to explore the safe zone of the known world—even if it’s the supernatural. The Haunting in Connecticut operates exactly within this safe space of a nightmare already consumed and domesticated by generations of both cinema and TV viewers.

Everything you see in this film has been seen before. Family forced to move due to circumstances? Seen that. Haunted place? Seen that. Personal possession? Seen that. Strange noises, mysterious figures appearing in mirrors? Seen that. A cemetery or funeral home in the history of the residence? Seen that. A kindly priest? Seen that too.

Watching The Haunting in Connecticut felt like watching a random episode of any dramatized documentary series from the “Haunted Houses” franchise once broadcast on Discovery. All stories there were basically the same, with only the sets and characters changing. Still, the chronology usually followed the same formula: moving in, paranormal activity, researching the location’s history, and finally help from clergy or demonologists who somehow deliver liberation to both real and unreal residents of the haunted place.

The Haunting in Connecticut fits perfectly into this formula, understandably given the above. However, as a theatrical film (i.e., with a large production budget), it offers more in terms of scale—bigger staging, decent cinematography, and editing. The acting is also on a much higher level than typical TV productions: Virginia Madsen as the determined Sara Campbell, Martin Donovan as family head Peter Campbell, Elias Koteas as Reverend Nicholas Popescu, and Kyle Gallner as Matt Campbell create a gallery of believable characters, already given psychological depth in the script.

But what good is that if those TV docs were often (and still are) scarier?The film’s saving grace might have been interpretative ambiguity. It’s a pity the director abandoned it right from the start, choosing the only “true” explanation in his mind: ghosts are responsible, not, for example, the hallucinations of a sick mind. So, considering everything, did the director manage to sell his moderately attractive story successfully to a) believers (loosely) and b) non-believers (loosely)? My answer: to the first group, yes; to the second, no. A middling film won’t strengthen strong faith, but it won’t weaken it either. Nor will it make a skeptic believe—even if only in what they see on screen.

Written by Bolesław Dochuński-Duchoński