We begin with a bit of a trick, one of many we’ll discover as the story flits along. A man drives up to a bleak, wooden farmhouse in winter 1980. As he pulls into the garage, he notices something dripping onto his windshield from the ceiling above—a substance he instantly recognizes as blood. He rushes inside to find his young daughter playing alone in the living room. Something horrible has happened, but to whom, and why?
Flash back to the previous spring, when the man, George Claire (James Norton), and his wife, Catherine (Amanda Seyfried), are celebrating their daughter Franny’s birthday at their Manhattan apartment. They’re a seemingly happy couple with an exciting future ahead of them: He’s just taken a job as an assistant art professor at a small, liberal arts college upstate. She’s an experienced art restorer who’s talked herself into the possibility of adventure in a new town. But a fellow mom commenting on how skinny Catherine has gotten, followed by Catherine eating a single bite of cake and then promptly throwing it up in the bathroom, is an early indication of domestic turbulence.
The farmhouse George has found for the family (with the help of Karen Allen as their real estate agent, a lovely addition) is the stuff horror movies are made of: built in the 18th century within the pastoral splendor of the Hudson River Valley, offering equal parts beauty and foreboding, it’s isolated even within a small town. (Cinematographer Larry Smith creates a chilly mood in his depiction of a place where the skies are perpetually gray.) Ladies at the historical society whisper about it. Brothers who live nearby (Alex Neustadter and Jack Gore) offer to help with repairs, but may have other intentions.
Settling into this place is more challenging than Catherine had envisioned on multiple fronts. It’s bad enough that she’s finding unsettling items left behind by the previous owners. It seems they’ve also left parts of themselves there. Lamps flicker, electricity buzzes and ethereal wisps of light pass along the windows and walls. Seyfried takes it all in silently, her expressive, wide eyes indicating her inner wonder. But in an unexpected twist, she’s not fearful of the spirits floating about—she’s fascinated by them, and wants to help them achieve peace. A scene Seyfried shares with the always tremendous F. Murray Abraham as George’s department chair is the film’s warmest, as the two reveal their mutual concern for these fitful souls.
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