As 2022 draws to a close, we’re taking a moment to look back at the year in film: the best of what we all saw, and the best of the films that might not have made it on your radar. Follow our coverage here!
This has been an exemplary year for stop-motion animation, led by two Netflix productions from major filmmakers, Henry Selick’s Wendell & Wild and Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio. Both movies have racked up acclaim and award nominations, bringing renewed attention to a vintage animation style. But those are not the only stop-motion animated movies Netflix released in 2022: Back in January, the streaming service quietly debuted the anthology feature film The House, which has received none of the awards-season push of its fellow stop-motion productions. For reasons known only to the algorithm, Netflix has labeled The House a “special” rather than a movie, filing the dark, disturbing film under “comedy,” where fans of artistically ambitious, adult-oriented animation are less likely to find it.
Unlike Wendell & Wild and Pinocchio, which are mature but kid-friendly, The House is decidedly not for children, although the protagonist of its first segment is a nine-year-old girl. The three stories all take place in the same imposing house, in different time periods and possibly in different dimensions. The first, from Belgian directors Emma de Swaef and Marc James Roels, is among the best horror of 2022, a deeply disquieting story about a struggling couple who make a Faustian bargain with a sinister architect.
Mia Goth, 2022’s reigning horror queen, voices Mabel, whose parents are living in a modest home out in the woods after making an unspecified break from her father’s wealthy family. Driven by resentment, father Raymond (Matthew Goode) gets drunk and wanders into the woods, where he encounters a glowing carriage inhabited by a mysterious figure. There, he makes a deal with the famous architect Van Schoonbeek, who will build the family a lavish new house for free, as long as they agree to live in it. Obviously, nothing good will come of this, and the house is obviously malevolent from the beginning, constantly under construction despite supposedly being complete. Staircases are torn up, windows are covered, and poor Mabel is lost in the labyrinthine dwelling, while her parents are mesmerized by its ominous opulence.
De Swaef and Roels’ animation style, with figures made from soft felt, adds to the sense of unease. The characters’ beady features are set within wide, round heads, and the actors speak in soft tones. That makes it even more haunting as Mabel’s parents seemingly become part of the house, both figuratively and literally, swallowed up by the luxury and excess.
The nameless protagonist of the second segment, from Swedish filmmaker Niki Lindroth von Bahr, is similarly covetous of a lifestyle beyond his means. While the first segment was set in what looks like the 19th century, the second chapter moves forward to the present, when the formerly isolated house is now situated on a busy city street. The humans have been replaced by anthropomorphic rats, and the main character (voiced by Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker) is a harried house-flipper who’s in over his head as he attempts to renovate the house.
Constant renovations are a running theme in the movie, which was scripted by Irish playwright Enda Walsh, based on story ideas from the directors. The rat’s changes to the house seem less horrific than Van Schoonbeek’s, although the garish HGTV-style refurbishing is off-putting in its own way. Like the family in the first segment, the rat ultimately ends up a prisoner of the house that at first seems like his salvation, when a pair of creepy rodents arrive to his first viewing and never leave, insisting only, “We are extremely interested in the house.”
There’s more humor in this segment, including an elaborate dance number from the bugs that have infested the house, but it still ends up in a harrowing place, implying that no amount of determination and optimism can overcome the pull of the house. The final segment counteracts that idea a bit, ending the movie on a surprisingly hopeful note, while still tying its main character to the house in a way that she can’t escape.
The directorial debut of actress Paloma Baeza, this segment trades rats for cats and takes place in a post-apocalyptic future where the house is seemingly the only building left standing in a city overrun by flooding. Renovations continue, as anxious owner Rosa (Susan Wokoma) attempts to use the house as an apartment building, despite the desolate surroundings. Her only two tenants, slacker Elias (Will Sharpe) and spiritualist Jen (Helena Bonham Carter), haven’t paid rent in months, but she’s determined to stick it out and realize her dream of turning this house into a perfect home.
Even as moments in this segment mirror the construction of the house at the beginning of the movie, Baeza offers a gentler, more open-hearted vision, making the house into a refuge rather than a prison. Rosa is just as neurotic as Mabel or the unnamed rat renovator, but she’s more open to change, more able to adapt, and thus less susceptible to nightmarish consequences. The continuity between segments may be loose, but there’s a thematic progression that proves cathartic by the end.
The animation is gorgeous throughout, providing a wealth of fascinating details that make up for any lags in plotting. From the felt on the human characters in the first chapter to the fur on the animal characters in the later sections, every element of the design feels tactile and handmade, one of the greatest appeals of stop-motion animation. The house itself is like a diorama that offers glimpses into the minds of the filmmakers, revealing their beautifully twisted visions. The movie ends with an endearingly bizarre take on the old-fashioned plot song, with Cocker rasp-singing, “If you’re in the market for a three-story monstrosity, this could be your cup of tea.” It’s ramshackle and weird, just like the movie he’s singing about.
“The House” is streaming on Netflix.
