The grain flickers, not just from the aged magnetic tape, but from the very substance of the film itself. Imagine reality etched onto wet plaster, then scraped away, frame by painful frame. That’s the unsettling texture that greets you in Piotr Dumała’s 1982 short animation, Dom (often known simply as Haunted House), a piece less watched and more experienced, like a half-remembered nightmare dredged up from the subconscious. This isn't your typical haunted house yarn; it’s an insidious crawl under the skin, a silent descent into domestic absurdity turned deeply disturbing.
A House That Breathes and Bleeds
There’s no straightforward narrative here, no comforting plot points to cling to. Instead, Haunted House presents a series of unsettling transformations within the confines of a seemingly ordinary dwelling. Objects warp and melt, perspectives shift impossibly, and the very walls seem porous, allowing strange intrusions and illogical events. A hand reaches from a loaf of bread, figures dissolve into the floorboards, the mundane landscape of a home becomes fluid and threatening. Watching it feels like being trapped in a loop of anxiety, where the familiar becomes profoundly alien. The silence, often punctuated only by subtle, unnerving sounds, amplifies the dread. It’s the kind of quiet that screams.
Carved from Anxiety
The true haunting lies not just in the imagery, but in the knowledge of its creation. Polish animator Piotr Dumała pioneered a unique and laborious technique for films like this. Forget cells or clay; Dumała carved and painted his images directly onto blocks of plaster. After filming a frame or two, he would meticulously scrape away or alter the surface to create the next image, destroying the previous one in the process. Think about that – each unsettling metamorphosis, each disturbing flicker, was born from an act of erasure, an irreversible carving into a solid medium. This "destructive animation" imbues the film with a palpable weight, a sense that the nightmare unfolding on screen is being physically dug out of reality itself. Knowing the obsessive, almost ritualistic work involved somehow makes the abstract dread feel even more tangible. It wasn't just animation; it was a painstaking excavation of unease.
An Unexpected Find on the Shelf
Finding something like Haunted House back in the VHS days was a peculiar thrill. Tucked away perhaps on a compilation tape of international animation, or maybe miscategorized entirely, it represented the kind of artistic curveball the curated algorithms of today often smooth over. It wasn't designed for easy consumption. It didn't offer jump scares or gore, but a slow-burn psychological disturbance that lingered precisely because it defied easy explanation. Did this short ever truly feel at home nestled between standard genre fare? Probably not, and that was its power – a stark reminder of film's potential to genuinely unsettle and provoke thought, existing outside the usual commercial constraints. It felt like discovering a secret language of film, one spoken in whispers and shadows.
The Persistence of the Plaster Ghost
Decades later, Haunted House hasn’t lost its power to disturb. In an era saturated with slick CGI, the rough-hewn, tactile quality of Dumała’s plaster world feels uniquely potent. Its influence might be subtle, seen perhaps in the work of other experimental animators who value texture and psychological depth over narrative convention, like the Brothers Quay. It stands as a testament to the chilling visions that can be conjured with unconventional methods and a singular artistic focus. It doesn’t just show you a haunted house; it makes you feel like your own mind is the space being invaded and subtly rearranged.
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VHS Heaven Rating: 8/10
Justification: While decidedly not for everyone and lacking conventional storytelling, Haunted House scores highly for its sheer artistic originality, its masterful creation of a deeply unsettling atmosphere, and its groundbreaking animation technique. The commitment to the unique, laborious plaster-carving process results in a visual texture and dreamlike dread rarely achieved elsewhere. It’s a potent dose of pure, undiluted cinematic nightmare fuel that burrows into your memory.
Final Thought: This isn't a tape you'd pop in for casual viewing, but Haunted House remains a vital piece of animation history – a stark, silent scream carved into plaster, echoing the anxieties that hide within the familiar corners of our own lives.