Nobody in a haunted house movie ever addresses whether the house is otherwise a good deal. That is the gap in the discourse that I am here to fill.
The horror genre has given us dozens of cursed properties over the decades and almost none of the reviews ask the important questions: What is the square footage? Is there natural light? How bad is the commute, relative to, say, the demon?
In the interest of public service, I have evaluated five of the most famous haunted houses in cinema history. The criteria are livability, resale potential, and the specific category of how bad the bad thing is. The ranking goes from “uncomfortable but survivable” to “absolutely not under any circumstances.”
NO. 5
The Conjuring (2013)
Farmhouse, Rhode Island. Lots of land, several outbuildings, nice bones.
Yes, there is a witch in the basement. Yes, she is going to possess at least one of your children. This is a known issue and I am not dismissing it.
But here is the thing about the Conjuring house: Ed and Lorraine Warren are going to come fix it. They will move in for a while, which means you will have guests indefinitely, and Lorraine will keep touching your stuff and saying it has residual energy, which is annoying. But they will handle the witch. By the end you have a rural property with no remaining supernatural activity and a very compelling story for dinner parties. Five out of ten, would consider renting.
NO. 4
Poltergeist (1982)
Suburban tract home, California. Good school district, two-car garage.
Your child is going to get absorbed into the television. I cannot stress this enough as a drawback. She will be fine eventually, but the process of getting her back is going to involve a parapsychologist, a tiny psychic, and several scenes that will ruin clowns for you permanently.
The real villain here is the developer, who built the neighborhood on a burial ground and only moved the headstones and not the actual bodies, which is both legally and morally indefensible. If you can somehow confirm that the lot your home is on has not displaced any remains, you are probably okay. You cannot confirm this. Nobody can confirm this. That is the whole point. Six out of ten, location is a problem.
NO. 3
The Amityville Horror (1979)
Dutch Colonial, Long Island. Six bedrooms, boathouse, water views.
You paid for this. That is the part of the Amityville situation that deserves more attention. The history of that house was in every newspaper in New York. You knew. You saw the price, and the price was low, and you bought the murder house because the market was rough and the bones were good and you told yourself it would be fine.
It was not fine. A demon pig showed up. The walls bled. Your husband started behaving like a man who had a lot of thoughts about axes. The house is objectively beautiful and the water views are incredible and you could not pay me to spend a night there. Three out of ten, the deal was not actually a deal.
NO. 2
Hereditary (2018)
Craftsman home, Utah. Studio space in the attic, decent light, good storage.
The house is not technically haunted. That is the twist. The issue is your family, going back several generations, which has been quietly enrolled in a demon cult without anyone’s knowledge or consent. The house is just where you find out.
The attic studio alone would rent for a fortune in any major city. There is nothing wrong with the property. The problem is that by the time you understand what is happening, you are several steps past the point where understanding it would help. One out of ten as a family home. Excellent as a solo rental if you have no living relatives.
NO. 1
The Shining (1980)
The Overlook Hotel, Colorado. Stunning mountain views. October through May occupancy. Some assembly required.
Let me walk you through the terms of the job. You are going to be completely isolated in a hotel that is snowbound for seven months. Your only coworker is your husband, who has a drinking problem and is going to develop increasingly specific opinions about productivity. The hotel is gorgeous, and the bar is fully stocked, except that the bar is not actually stocked, that is a ghost, and none of what you drink there counts.
The supernatural element here is personal in a way the other houses are not. The Overlook has identified your husband specifically, and it is working on him. The ghosts have a plan. The plan involves you, a hedge maze, and a very bad night.
Zero out of ten. Do not take the job. Do not let him take the job. If he has already taken the job, call in as many times as the phone lines allow, which will eventually be zero.
