A rural doctor named Faraday lives in a rural area in a world of respect and calm. One day, Faraday was called during the summer of 1948 to see a patient in the hall of the hundreds, a hall where his mother had been working before. This hall has been a place for the Iris family for a long time. But now, its inhabitants - the mother, son and son - live in a very bad state. Faraday may discover that the story of that family may be closely related.
Everything here is precise: Abrahamson's direction, the understated performances, the intrusive sounds that stop just shy of jarring. The result is more sad and spooky than suspenseful or scary, an effect that seems entirely, and pleasingly, intentional.
A hypnotic and haunting tale of how the past can grab hold of the flesh-and-blood present and squeeze. Don't let this mesmerizing mystery slip between the cracks of studio neglect and marketing indifference. It's spellbinding.
One will wonder whether Lenny Abrahamson has his heart in all this way, way more than whether if the establishment has an (alleged) unwelcoming-presence problem.
[Domhnall Gleeson] keeps Faraday's wounds painfully close to the surface... Faraday's bitterness works like a depressant, consuming him but also the movie, and robbing it of some of the electrical charge vital for fully effective horror.
The Little Stranger is an intriguing film, but not a great one. At times, though, its atmosphere will creep under the skin -- of attentive viewers, at least.
