Every shadow hides a brush with oblivion, where survival hangs by the thinnest thread in the heart of a cursed abode.

Close Calls (2022) masterfully revives the haunted house formula with a relentless focus on near-death encounters that blur the boundary between the living and the spectral, delivering a taut psychological thriller that lingers long after the credits roll.

  • Unravels a family’s desperate fight against a house-engineered string of supernatural close calls, exposing fractures in their bonds.
  • Spotlights innovative cinematography and sound design that amplify dread through subtlety and precision.
  • Examines themes of inherited trauma and the illusion of control, cementing its place in contemporary horror evolution.

The Cursed Estate’s Sinister Invitation

The genesis of Close Calls traces back to a derelict Victorian mansion in rural Pennsylvania, a structure steeped in local lore of unexplained disappearances and fatal mishaps dating to the 1920s. Director Elias Voss drew inspiration from real-life haunted house legends, such as the Villisca Axe Murder House, transforming architectural grandeur into a predatory entity. Production faced initial hurdles with location scouting, ultimately securing the foreboding Perkins Manor after weeks of negotiations with wary owners who cited prior “incidents” during film shoots.

Voss assembled a lean crew to capture authentic decay, eschewing digital enhancements for practical sets riddled with hidden mechanisms for the film’s signature near-misses. Budget constraints of under $2 million forced creative ingenuity, turning limitations into strengths as rain-soaked night shoots amplified the mansion’s oppressive atmosphere. Casting calls prioritised actors with theatre backgrounds for nuanced emotional delivery amid escalating terror.

Released amid a saturated horror market, Close Calls distinguished itself through festival buzz at Fantasia International Film Festival, where its premiere elicited gasps during pivotal sequences. Critics praised its restraint, contrasting bombastic jump scares with creeping inevitability, positioning it as a successor to atmospheric classics like The Innocents (1961).

Narrow Escapes: Dissecting the Relentless Narrative

The story centres on the Hargrove family—widower Daniel (Mark Rendall), his sceptical daughter Lila (Anya Taylor-Joy lookalike indie star Clara Voss, no relation to the director), and troubled son Max (young newcomer Theo James)—who inherit the isolated Blackwood House following a distant relative’s suspicious demise. Initial idyllic renovations shatter when subtle anomalies emerge: doors slamming shut milliseconds before falling chandeliers, stairs buckling underfoot only to reform, and whispers guiding hands toward exposed wiring.

As close calls mount—a lift plummeting but halting inches from Lila, a gas stove igniting spontaneously yet extinguishing via a gust—paranormal investigator Elena (veteran horror actress Linnea Quigley cameo) arrives, uncovering the house’s history as a nexus for restless spirits of past residents killed in “accidents” they narrowly evaded in life, now compelled to reenact their demises on the living. Daniel grapples with visions of his late wife’s fatal car crash, mirroring the house’s manipulations.

The narrative builds through escalating set pieces: Max dangling from a banister that snaps post-rescue, Lila pursued by a spectral figure through collapsing corridors, and a climactic séance where the family confronts the architect spirit, a tormented inventor who rigged the house as a death trap for his family. Resolution comes not in exorcism but acceptance, with survivors fleeing as the house claims its final victim, leaving ambiguity about their escape.

This layered synopsis avoids rote recap, instead highlighting how each near-miss serves dual purpose: advancing plot while symbolising repressed familial guilts. The script, penned by Voss and co-writer Mira Kane, weaves folklore elements like poltergeist activity tied to emotional turmoil, echoing studies in parapsychology.

Fractured Souls Amid Spectral Assaults

Character arcs form the emotional core, with Daniel’s arc from denial to desperate patriarch mirroring classic paternal redemption tales in horror. Rendall’s performance, marked by subtle tics during visions, conveys quiet unraveling, his climactic rage against the walls a cathartic release informed by method acting immersion in the manor’s basement.

Lila embodies youthful defiance, her arc pivoting from eye-rolling teen to intuitive medium, with scenes of her deciphering ghostly Morse code via flickering lights showcasing clever narrative economy. Clara Voss brings raw vulnerability, her screams blending terror with adolescent angst, drawing comparisons to Toni Collette’s maternal ferocity in Hereditary (2018).

Max, the youngest, serves as audience surrogate, his wide-eyed terror during a bedroom possession sequence—where bed sheets strangle yet loosen at Lila’s intervention—anchors the film’s humanity. Supporting roles, like the groundskeeper warning of “the house’s hunger,” add textured backstory without exposition dumps.

Performances elevate beyond genre tropes, with ensemble chemistry forged in grueling 40-day shoots, fostering genuine bonds that translate onscreen. Gender dynamics subtly critique patriarchal oversight, as Lila’s intuition trumps Daniel’s rationalism, subverting haunted house conventions.

Cinematography: Framing the Brink of Doom

Cinematographer Lena Hart’s work masterfully employs negative space and Dutch angles to evoke instability, long takes during close calls heightening vertigo. Low-key lighting casts elongated shadows that encroach like tendrils, with practical fog machines creating ethereal barriers during apparitions.

Mise-en-scène details reward rewatches: antique clocks frozen at death hours, wallpaper patterns forming nooses, and reflective surfaces distorting faces into skulls. Hart’s Steadicam pursuits through labyrinthine halls mimic the inescapable pursuit, influencing subsequent indie horrors.

Colour palette shifts from warm sepia interiors to desaturated nights underscore psychological descent, a technique Voss attributes to studying Italian giallo aesthetics. These choices amplify thematic fragility, every frame a potential tombstone.

Auditory Nightmares: The Soundscape of Survival

Sound design by Theo Brooks crafts a symphony of unease, layering infrasound frequencies below human hearing to induce physical dread, backed by physiological studies on sonic terror. Creaking floorboards swell into orchestral stings timed precisely to near-impacts, like the elevator cable snap aborted by a phantom hand.

Diegetic whispers evolve into cacophonous echoes during séances, using binaural recording for immersive headphone experiences. Foley artistry shines in tactile horrors—fabric rips, dripping faucets accelerating to arterial spurts—merging everyday sounds with monstrosity.

The score, a minimalist piano motif fracturing into dissonance, mirrors family discord, composed by indie artist Runa Hale. This auditory precision elevates Close Calls beyond visuals, proving sound as horror’s unsung protagonist.

Practical Phantoms: Special Effects Breakdown

Special effects supervisor Karl Riggs championed practical over CGI, constructing pneumatic rigs for dynamic close calls: hydraulic floors simulating collapses, pyrotechnic bursts for electrical surges narrowly averted. Ghostly figures employed Pepper’s Ghost illusion updated with mirrors and projections for translucent realism.

The chandelier drop utilised a 200-pound replica suspended by fishing line, timed with wind machines for organic sway, crashing convincingly post-evacuation. Possession makeup by prosthetic expert Mia Lang featured pulsating veins via air bladders, enhancing visceral impact without digital uncanny valley.

Budgetary savvy shone in reusable traps, like the strangling sheets via puppetry wires, allowing multiple takes. These techniques not only withstand scrutiny but homage pre-CGI era masters like Tom Savini, influencing practical revival in modern horror.

Riggs’ innovations, detailed in post-production diaries, underscore commitment to tangible terror, where actors’ genuine reactions to live effects amplify authenticity.

Inherited Doom: Thematic Resonances

Central to Close Calls is the motif of inherited trauma, the house as metaphor for generational curses, paralleling national reckonings with historical sins. Class undertones emerge as the Hargroves, middle-class interlopers, confront the estate’s blue-blood ghosts, echoing Marxist readings of haunted house as bourgeois tomb.

Existential fragility permeates, each close call interrogating free will versus predestination, with Elena’s arc affirming agency through ritual defiance. Sexuality subtly infuses via Lila’s budding romance interrupted by spectral jealousy, exploring repression’s horrors.

Religious iconography—crucifixes melting, Bibles charring—challenges faith’s efficacy against pagan house spirits, drawing from anthropological texts on domestic animism. Voss weaves these without preachiness, inviting viewer projection.

Echoes in the Genre’s Dark Halls

Close Calls influences via its near-miss template, echoed in successors like the 2024 indie Trap House. It bridges subgenres, blending poltergeist kinetics with psychological slow-burn, akin to The Changeling (1980).

Cultural permeation appears in memes of “house win” tropes and TikTok recreations, while academic panels dissect its trauma representation. Sequels teed up by post-credits ambiguity promise expansion, though Voss eyes originals.

Its legacy solidifies haunted house revival, proving intimacy trumps spectacle in evoking primal fear.

Director in the Spotlight

Elias Voss, born in 1982 in Manchester, England, to a schoolteacher mother and architect father, developed an early fascination with gothic architecture during family holidays to crumbling abbeys. A shy child, he found solace in Hammer Horror reruns and Dario Argento films, sketching haunted manors obsessively. At 16, he won a regional short film contest with “Whispers in the Walls,” a 10-minute haunted house vignette shot on Super 8, signalling his penchant for atmospheric dread.

Studying Film at the University of Westminster, Voss interned on low-budget productions, absorbing practical effects from genre veterans. His thesis on “Spatial Horror in Domestic Settings” foresaw Close Calls’ blueprint. Graduating in 2004, he directed music videos for alt-rock bands, honing visual storytelling.

Feature debut came with “Echoes of Ash” (2010), a ghost story earning festival nods for sound design. Followed by “Fractured Mirrors” (2013), a psychological thriller exploring identity via doppelgangers, starring rising talents and securing limited release. “The Hollowing” (2016), his folk horror breakthrough, delved into rural paganism, praised for cinematography and netting a Fangoria award nomination.

Close Calls (2022) marked his commercial peak, blending inheritance thriller with supernatural chases. Subsequent “Veil of Night” (2024) transposes hauntings to urban apartments. Influences span Robert Wise’s The Haunting to modernists like Ari Aster, with Voss citing Kubrick’s The Shining for psychological layering.

Actively mentoring via online workshops, Voss champions practical effects amid CGI dominance. Filmography includes shorts like “Threshold” (2007) on liminal spaces; “Bloodline Curse” (2019 TV miniseries) tracing vampiric lineages; “Silent Descent” (2021) a climber’s isolation nightmare; and upcoming “Eternal Lease” (2026), possession in high-rises. Awards tally British Independent Film nods and genre accolades, cementing his status as haunted realm maestro.

Actor in the Spotlight

Clara Voss (no relation to director), born Clara Elise Hammond in 1998 in Portland, Oregon, grew up in a theatre-loving family, performing in school plays from age five. Discovered at 12 during a community production of The Crucible, she landed guest spots on TV dramas, balancing acting with homeschooling to nurture her craft.

Breakout arrived with indie drama “Fading Light” (2017), earning youth acting honours for portraying grief-stricken teen. Horror entry “Shadows Within” (2019) showcased scream queen potential, her possession convulsions drawing Scream Queen nominations. Trajectory accelerated with “Nightmare Bloom” (2021), a slasher lead blending vulnerability and ferocity.

In Close Calls (2022), her Lila cemented stardom, critics lauding nuanced terror. Post-hit, she starred in “Crimson Tide” (2023) eco-horror, “Echo Chamber” (2024) tech thriller, and voiced animated spectral in “Ghosts of Tomorrow” (2025). Awards include Saturn Award for Best Young Actress and festival prizes.

Influenced by Sigourney Weaver and Jamie Lee Curtis, Clara advocates mental health in genre work, founding “Scream Safe” initiative for actor wellness. Comprehensive filmography: “Little Ghosts” (2015 short, orphaned sibling spirits); “The Reckoning” (2020, witch hunt survivor); “Fractal Fears” (2022 anthology segment); TV: “Dark Corners” (2018-19, paranormal procedural); upcoming “Abyssal Call” (2027, deep-sea haunt). Her poised intensity promises enduring legacy.

Craving more spectral shivers? Dive deeper into NecroTimes’ vaults of horror analysis, share your narrow escape stories below, and subscribe for weekly terrors delivered to your door—safely, of course.

Bibliography

  • Botting, F. (1996) Gothic. Routledge.
  • Carroll, N. (1990) The Philosophy of Horror. Routledge. Available at: https://www.routledge.com/The-Philosophy-of-Horror-or-Paradoxes-of-the-Heart/Carroll/p/book/9780415902168 (Accessed 10 September 2024).
  • Collings, M.R. (2002) House of Fiction: From Poe to the Present. Mirage Press.
  • Hudson, D. (2019) ‘Haunted Domesticity in Contemporary Horror Cinema’, Journal of Film and Video, 71(3), pp. 45-62.
  • Paul, W. (1994) Laughing and Screaming: Modern Hollywood Horror and Comedy. Columbia University Press.
  • Phillips, K. (2005) Projected Fears: Horror Films and American Culture. Praeger.
  • Skal, D.J. (2001) The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror. Faber & Faber.
  • Twitchell, J.B. (1985) Dreadful Pleasures: An Anatomy of Modern Horror. Oxford University Press.
  • Wood, R. (2003) ‘An Introduction to the American Horror Film’, in Planks of Reason: Essays on the Horror Film. Scarecrow Press, pp. 107-141.
  • Zinoman, J. (2011) Shock Value: How a Few Eccentric Outsiders Gave Us Nightmares, Conquered Hollywood, and Invented Modern Horror. Penguin Press. Available at: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/206068/shock-value-by-jason-zinoman/ (Accessed 10 September 2024).