Dream House: Movie Review
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Dream House aspires to be a thriller in the traditional sense, but is ultimately a suspenseful whodunit without any of the thrill. It had potential to be something unusual and interesting, but for whatever reason, the screenwriter and director (Jim Sheridan, of In The Name of the Father fame) decided to follow formula to such a fault that you sadly know how things will turn out since you’ve seen this movie before in its various unimaginative, derivative incarnations. The very fact that it’s named Dream House instantly evokes the idea that it is nothing short of a nightmare. Why is avoiding cliché such a herculean task for Hollywood? Perhaps that’s why the film has been kept hidden from critics in advance of its release . . . the auguries are clearly not in favor for an emerging critical darling.
Whatever the reason, here is the synopsis: Will Atenton (Craig) leave his dream job in Manhattan (where else?) to settle his family in a quaint New England town (where else?) where strange and spooky things begin to happen. He and his wife (the gorgeous Rachel Weisz) soon discover that the home they just moved into is infamous as the site where a woman and her two children were once murdered. Yeah. Spine Tingle. Shiver. Yawn.
Their neighbor, Ann Patterson, (played by a criminally underused Naomi Watts) is none too eager to discuss what may have transpired at the time of the murders. Could she possibly know more than she is letting on? Gasp. I think so.
To its credit, the film does keep the viewer guessing for most of the first half, though you shouldn’t have too much trouble figuring out what will eventually unfold. Especially good use is made of the couple’s young daughters (played by Claire and Taylor Geare) who are incredibly charming and believable as innocents ensnared in a diabolical situation. Craig (cast as Daddy Homemaker) takes a few minutes to ease into his role, but once he does, he is as credible as Weisz, with whom he shares a good deal of onscreen chemistry. That, in the end, will be what the film is remembered for: its depiction of quaint family utopia upended by something that purports to be thrilling, but is really just another manifestation of banal cinematic pseudo psychosis. A tepid Y.A.W.N.