Hereditary is probably one of the most frightening movies I’ve ever seen—emotionally harrowing, viscerally disturbing, and extremely fun. If you are like me—a giant baby who is scared of a garbage can’s shadow on a sunny day—this movie will be difficult for you. Luckily, I have a very simple solution.
The movie’s brilliance is in its tension, like a nightmarish, two-hour long rollercoaster that doesn’t end until [REDACTED NO SPOILERS HERE, MA’AM] in a scene so grotesque that it was, in some ways, strangely beautiful. To reveal details would be a detriment to the experience of watching the film, so I will abstain from ruining it for anyone still working up the courage to see it.
You don’t need to know what’s going on in this scene to appreciate the millwork of this Craftsman, which was built on a soundstage from scratch, so that the cameras could maneuver their way through the halls and around corners for the shots. While I don’t love this table or their excessive use of wallpaper, I find myself distracted by that stained glass transom over that French door behind Gabriel Byrne. Look at all the light! Those French doors! The soft sage on the walls.
I know this house was built on a soundstage and that fact makes me feel a little bit better, because I would never want to visit, but pardon me for feeling extreme jealousy and then a little bit of anxiety tears when looking at the foyer. Hell yes, those stairs are ominous, but I love the runner!
The millwork is exquisite. Every time I felt anxiety that [REDACTED] would be doing [REDACTED] near [REDACTED], I cast my glance to a particularly beautiful newel post or that window seat in the entryway and felt immediately at ease.
The house was, of course, terrifying in its own way, all dark wood and low ceilings, with eaves that felt welcoming during daylight and menacing and horrible during the night. I try not to think about the hallway of the house, because [REDACTED], but when I do, all I think of is how nice it must be to walk down a hallway paneled in beautiful dark oak, locking the door to [REDACTED] with a skeleton key.
Ignore the despair and the latent trauma in this tableaux and focus instead on those windows, trimmed as they are in that same fine wood. I don’t even mind the wallpaper here; I’d gladly take it if it meant I could live life with those lamps and this dining table. This family is on some aspirational HGTV shit of an entirely different caliber—this is the “after” of Rehab Addict’s most ambitious restoration. It’s gorgeous. And I am very happy that it is not real.