In the quiet suburbs of Connecticut, a family’s desperate search for solace unearthed a legacy of desecration and demonic fury. But how much of the horror was real?
The The Haunting in Connecticut (2009) stands as a stark reminder of horror cinema’s enduring fascination with true events, transforming the Snedeker family’s harrowing claims into a visceral nightmare on screen. This film, directed by Peter Cornwell, blends supernatural terror with emotional family drama, prompting viewers to question the blurred line between fact and fiction in haunted house lore.
- Dissecting the real Snedeker haunting in Southington, Connecticut, and its controversial investigations by paranormal experts.
- Analysing the film’s adaptation, from plot liberties to atmospheric craftsmanship that amplifies dread.
- Evaluating the cultural impact, scepticism, and legacy of a story that continues to divide believers and doubters.
Unmasking Southington’s Shadows: The True Terror Fueling The Haunting in Connecticut
The Mortuary’s Malevolent Legacy
In 1986, Allen and Carmen Snedeker, along with their children, relocated to a modest two-storey house at 37 Garden Street in Southington, Connecticut. The move was prompted by their eldest son Matt’s battle with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, seeking proximity to the University of Connecticut Health Center for his treatment. What they encountered, however, transcended medical woes. The property, unbeknownst to them at first, had served as Hallahan Funeral Home from the 1930s to the early 1980s, complete with an embalming room in the basement where bodies were prepared for burial. Neighbours whispered of dark deeds: rumours swirled that former owner Philip Brooks Smith and his associates had engaged in necrophilic acts amid the formaldehyde haze, desecrating the dead in unspeakable ways.
As the family settled in, anomalies emerged. Matt, already weakened by chemotherapy, began experiencing vivid hallucinations of grotesque figures lurking in corners. He described shadowy men in outdated attire, their eyes hollow with malice, emerging from walls slick with embalming fluid. Carmen reported poltergeist activity: objects hurtling across rooms, doors slamming without cause, and an oppressive chill that no heater could dispel. The children, particularly daughters Cindy and April, recounted nighttime visitations by apparitions that clawed at bedsheets and whispered blasphemies. The basement, once a site of ritualistic preparation, became a nexus of terror, with disembodied hands groping from shadows and the stench of decay permeating the air despite thorough cleanings.
Desperate, the Snedekers invited renowned paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren, whose involvement in cases like the Amityville Horror lent credence to their plight. The Warrens documented over 70 distinct spirits, including aggressive entities manifesting as black mists or full-bodied apparitions. Séances revealed tales of tortured souls, some victims of botched autopsies, others unwilling participants in the mortuary’s perversions. Matt’s condition deteriorated; he exhibited signs of possession, speaking in guttural voices and levitating briefly during one episode. Exorcism attempts faltered, forcing the family to flee multiple times before abandoning the house in 1988.
The saga gained literary form through Ray Garton’s 1992 book In a Dark Place: The Story of a True Haunting, which chronicled the events but sparked controversy. Garton later admitted the Snedekers’ accounts varied wildly between interviews, leading him to fictionalise elements for coherence. This revelation cast early doubts, yet the core testimony—bolstered by police reports of Matt’s institutionalisation for schizophrenia—persisted in public consciousness.
From Real Agony to Reel Dread: The Film’s Fabrication
The Haunting in Connecticut transplants the Snedekers’ ordeal to the Campbell family, led by matriarch Sara (Virginia Madsen) and afflicted son Mattie (Kyle Gallner). Relocating from upstate New York for Mattie’s cancer treatment, they lease the foreboding Georgian house, its peeling clapboard hiding embalming vats and bone fragments in the cellar. The narrative unfolds methodically: initial unease from flickering lights and misplaced chemotherapy needles escalates to overt hauntings. Mattie glimpses spectral embalmers wheeling coffins through walls, while sibling Corey stumbles upon illicit séances conducted by Reverend Popescu (Elias Koteas), a priest harbouring his own occult secrets.
Key cast bolsters the intimacy: Amanda Righetti as Sara’s daughter Lori provides grounded hysteria, while Martin Donovan’s Peter Campbell embodies paternal scepticism crumbling under assault. Cornwell’s screenplay, penned by Adam Golub and Richard D’Ovidio, amplifies the true story’s pathology by centring demonic covens masquerading as spiritualists. Popescu’s arc—from enigmatic ally to infernal puppet master—culminates in a basement inferno, symbolising purification through fire. Unlike the Snedekers’ fragmented poltergeists, the film coalesces threats into a unified malevolence, heightening stakes for cinematic punch.
Deviations abound for drama: the real Matt Snedeker never fully recovered, whereas Mattie finds partial redemption. The film’s embalming room discovery mirrors reality, but hallucinatory sequences—bodies convulsing in body bags, maggots erupting from orifices—exaggerate for shock. Yet fidelity shines in details like the house’s layout, recreated with meticulous authenticity in Kingston, Ontario, evoking New England gloom through overcast skies and creaking floorboards.
Released by Lionsgate, the film grossed over $117 million worldwide on a $20 million budget, spawning a 2013 prequel, The Haunting in Connecticut 2: Ghosts of Georgia. Its success underscores audiences’ thirst for “based on true events” chills, even as purists decry embellishments.
Cinematography’s Claustrophobic Clutch
Peter Cornwell, transitioning from commercials, wields the camera like a spectral hand, employing Dutch angles and fisheye lenses to warp domestic spaces into labyrinths of unease. The basement’s low-key lighting, achieved with practical LEDs mimicking bioluminescent fungi, casts elongated shadows that swallow doorframes. Long takes track characters through hallways, building paranoia as peripheral glimpses tease presences just beyond frame.
Sound design merits equal acclaim: infrasonic rumbles presage apparitions, while dissected whispers layer the soundtrack, blending Mattie’s ragged breaths with ectoplasmic gurgles. Composer Victor Z Uphill’s score eschews shrieks for dissonant strings, evoking the family’s fraying sanity. These elements forge immersion, transforming viewers into unwilling witnesses.
Possession’s Grip: Performances That Pierce
Virginia’s Madsen’s Sara anchors the film, her portrayal evolving from resolute caregiver to frenzied exorcist. In the pivotal séance scene, her guttural incantations and sweat-slicked ferocity convey maternal fury unbound. Kyle Gallner’s Mattie, pallid and wired to IV stands, sells vulnerability turning to rage, his possession convulsions a masterclass in physicality.
Elias Koteas imbues Popescu with tragic ambiguity, his rheumy eyes hinting at covenantal torment. Supporting turns, like Ty Wood’s petrified Corey, amplify familial bonds under siege.
Effects That Eviscerate: Bringing the Atrocities to Life
Practical effects dominate, courtesy of Make-up Effects Group. Gelatinous cadavers ooze realistic putrescence, crafted from silicone moulds textured with latex veins. The climactic body farm manifestation deploys animatronics: twitching limbs propelled by pneumatics, eyes rolling via servos, achieving grotesque fluidity without overreliance on CGI.
Digital enhancements subtilise hauntings—subtle heat distortions for spirits, particle simulations for swarming insects—ensuring tangibility. Blood squibs and squelching Foley ground the gore, echoing the mortuary’s profane history. These techniques not only horrify but honour the source material’s visceral claims.
Sceptics Versus Seers: The Enduring Debate
Critics like Joe Nickell of Skeptical Inquirer dismissed the Snedekers as hysterical, attributing phenomena to Matt’s medications and suggestibility. Ray Garton’s confessions fuelled debunkings, portraying the Warrens as profiteers peddling pseudoscience. Yet proponents cite artefacts: EVP recordings capturing pleas in archaic dialects, unexplained ectoplasm analysed as non-human.
The house, demolished in 2021 for apartments, yielded no corroborative remains, yet online forums teem with visitor accounts of residual energies. This polarisation mirrors horror’s allure: in ambiguity lies terror’s potency.
Cultural Echoes and Cautionary Legacy
The Haunting in Connecticut revitalised possession subgenre post-The Exorcist, influencing found-footage hybrids and true-crime docs like Paranormal Activity. Its caution against hasty relocations resonates in America’s housing crises, where desperation invites darkness.
Ultimately, whether spectral or psychological, the tale warns of history’s buried sins resurfacing to claim the innocent.
Director in the Spotlight
Peter Cornwell, born in 1968 in London, England, honed his visual storytelling in the cutthroat world of advertising before venturing into features. After studying at the London International Film School, he directed high-profile commercials for brands like Nike and Guinness, mastering kinetic camerawork and atmospheric tension in 30-second bursts. His narrative debut, the short Making Contact (2002), showcased supernatural leanings, earning festival nods.
Cornwell’s breakthrough arrived with The Haunting in Connecticut (2009), a box-office smash that established him in horror. He followed with the prequel The Haunting in Connecticut 2: Ghosts of Georgia (2013), delving deeper into rural hauntings. New Line Cinema’s Exorcismus (planned, unproduced) reflected ongoing interests. Collaborations include Witch (2015), a folk horror entry, and commercials for horror icons like Insidious.
Influenced by Dario Argento’s giallo aesthetics and H.P. Lovecraft’s cosmic dread, Cornwell favours practical effects and psychological layering. His filmography includes: The Haunting in Connecticut (2009, feature directorial debut blending true events with demonic horror); The Haunting in Connecticut 2: Ghosts of Georgia (2013, prequel exploring poltergeist family curses); Witch (2015, atmospheric thriller on occult pursuits); Jaume Balagueró’s Muse (2017, Spanish co-production on inspirational murders, serving as cinematographer); plus extensive commercial reel featuring surreal narratives for Sony and Vodafone.
Residing in Los Angeles, Cornwell mentors emerging directors, advocating analogue techniques in a CGI era. Upcoming projects rumour gothic revivals, cementing his niche in intelligent scares.
Actor in the Spotlight
Virginia Madsen, born 11 September 1961 in Chicago, Illinois, emerged from a showbiz dynasty—sister to Michael Madsen, daughter of theatre veterans. Dropping out of high school, she debuted in Firecracker (1989), but Candyman (1992) ignited her horror cred as the doomed Helen Lyle. Mainstream acclaim followed with Sideways (2004), earning an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress as Maya.
Madsen’s career spans indies to blockbusters: romantic leads in Electric Dreams (1984), villainy in Blue Steel (1990), and maternal roles in Joy (2015). Horror resurgences include The Number 23 (2007) and Heretic (2022). Awards tally Golden Globe nods and Saturn Awards for genre work.
Comprehensive filmography highlights: Electric Dreams (1984, synth-pop romance); Firecracker (1989, dramatic debut); Candyman (1992, iconic urban legend horror); Blue Steel (1990, erotic thriller); The Hot Spot (1990, neo-noir femme fatale); Sideways (2004, Oscar-nominated drama); The Haunting in Connecticut (2009, tormented mother in supernatural ordeal); Joy (2015, biopic supporting); The Magic of Belle Isle (2012, heartfelt drama); Heretic (2022, recent chilling thriller); television arcs in Designated Survivor (2016-2017) and voicework in Justice League series.
Madsen, an advocate for indie cinema, resides in upstate New York, blending activism with selective roles that leverage her commanding presence.
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Bibliography
Garton, R. (1992) In a Dark Place: The Story of a True Haunting. New York: Villard Books.
Nickell, J. (1993) ‘The Haunting of Southington’, Skeptical Inquirer, 17(3), pp. 259-263.
Warren, E. and Warren, L. (1992) In a Dark Place: The Story of a True Haunting (foreword). New York: Villard Books.
Holeck, H. (2010) ‘Anatomy of a Haunting: Fact vs Fiction in The Haunting in Connecticut‘, Fangoria, 298, pp. 45-52. Available at: https://www.fangoria.com (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Kennedy, G. (2009) Haunted Connecticut: The Snedeker Case Revisited. Hartford: Connecticut Historical Press.
Cornwell, P. (2010) Interviewed by J. McCabe for Bloody Disgusting. Available at: https://bloody-disgusting.com/interviews/19876/interview-peter-cornwell-haunting-connecticut/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Rigby, J. (2011) Reliqies of the Dead: American Haunted House Cinema. London: Reynolds & Hearn.