In the frostbitten hills of rural New England, a family’s sorrow summons spirits whose hunger for revenge knows no grave.

The 2015 indie horror gem We Are Still Here stands as a testament to the enduring power of haunted house tales, where grief collides with the supernatural in a symphony of dread. Directed by Ted Geoghegan, this film revives the spirit of classic chillers while infusing them with modern sensibilities, crafting a narrative that lingers long after the credits roll. For fans of atmospheric terror rooted in emotional turmoil, it offers layers of unease that build to unforgettable crescendos.

  • The profound exploration of mourning as a gateway to otherworldly vengeance, mirroring real human loss with ghostly fury.
  • A masterful use of practical effects and isolation to heighten tension, paying homage to 80s horror craftsmanship in a contemporary shell.
  • Barbara Crampton’s riveting portrayal of a mother pushed to spectral confrontation, elevating the film into scream queen legend territory.

Grief’s Icy Threshold

Paul and Anne Sacchetti arrive at their new home in the remote village of Aylesbury, Massachusetts, seeking solace after the tragic death of their son Bobby in a car accident. The house, a sprawling Victorian farmhouse shrouded in perpetual winter mist, promises quiet healing. Yet from the outset, subtle omens disrupt their fragile peace: creaking floorboards echo without cause, cold spots defy the roaring fireplace, and faint whispers pierce the night. Geoghegan establishes this foreboding tone through meticulous sound design, where every groan of timber feels like a suppressed scream from below.

The couple’s friends, the earnest Dave and the sceptical Cat, soon visit, injecting levity that quickly sours into suspicion. Dave, a self-professed occult enthusiast, senses the malevolent energy immediately, recounting local legends of the house’s fiery past. Anne, meanwhile, experiences visions of Bobby playing in empty rooms, blurring the line between maternal longing and genuine haunting. This interplay of personal loss and paranormal intrusion forms the film’s emotional core, transforming a standard ghost story into a poignant meditation on unresolved sorrow.

As nights deepen, physical manifestations escalate. Chairs scrape across kitchens unbidden, doors slam with hurricane force, and a grotesque figure lurks in peripheral shadows. The basement, sealed for decades, beckons with an unnatural chill, hinting at atrocities buried beneath the floorboards. Geoghegan draws from the rich tradition of haunted house cinema, evoking the isolation of The Haunting while amplifying stakes with visceral body horror elements that recall early Poltergeist terrors.

The Fiery Origins of Dagmar’s Curse

Flashbacks peel back the house’s sanguinary history, revealing a speakeasy in the Prohibition era where bootlegger Jacob and his family met a gruesome end in flames set by betrayed patrons. Their spirits, twisted by rage, now infest the property, demanding restitution through any occupants who dare disturb their vigil. This revenge motif elevates the narrative beyond jump scares, positioning the ghosts as tragic antiheroes driven by betrayal’s bitter legacy.

Local residents, tight-lipped and evasive, embody the film’s theme of communal silence. The town elder warns of the house’s insatiable appetite, yet withholds crucial details, fostering paranoia among the protagonists. This dynamic critiques small-town insularity, where secrets fester like untreated wounds. Geoghegan weaves historical authenticity into these revelations, grounding supernatural fury in tangible human failings of greed and vengeance.

The spirits’ modus operandi proves ruthlessly methodical: possessing the living to exact payback, mimicking the son’s fatal crash to torment Anne psychologically before unleashing physical havoc. One sequence, where a seance spirals into poltergeist pandemonium, showcases the film’s restraint in building suspense, allowing dread to simmer before exploding into chaos. Such moments underscore how We Are Still Here honours its forebears while innovating on possession tropes.

Spectral Siege and Maternal Fury

Climaxing in a basement confrontation, the film unleashes its full arsenal of practical effects wizardry. Ghoulish apparitions with charred flesh and glowing eyes materialise amid swirling ectoplasm, their assaults rendered with tangible grotesquery that CGI could never match. Anne’s transformation from victim to avenger marks a pivotal arc, her grief weaponised into defiance as she battles the entities on their turf. This empowerment through horror resonates deeply, subverting passive female roles common in genre fare.

Soundtrack contributions amplify the assault, with dissonant strings and guttural wails syncing perfectly to visual shocks. Monte Hellman’s score, sparse yet piercing, mirrors the house’s deceptive calm, erupting in auditory assaults that rival the onscreen violence. The final standoff blends cosmic undertones, suggesting the spirits tap into primordial forces beyond mere poltergeists, nodding to Lovecraftian infinities lurking in rural Americana.

Post-climax revelations cement the film’s thematic depth, affirming that some houses remember their dead more fiercely than the living. Paul and Anne’s survival comes at the cost of sanity, leaving audiences pondering the price of moving on. This ambiguous closure invites repeated viewings, each uncovering nuances in performance and subtext.

Practical Magic in a Digital Age

Shot on a modest budget, We Are Still Here triumphs through old-school effects artistry. Makeup maestro Damien Leone crafts monsters with latex and animatronics, achieving a tactile horror that immerses viewers viscerally. Scenes of levitation and dismemberment rely on wires and prosthetics, evoking the golden era of Tom Savini and Rob Bottin, when practical gore defined 80s slashers.

Cinematographer Andrew Shulkind employs wide-angle lenses to distort interiors, making rooms feel labyrinthine and alive. Harsh lighting casts elongated shadows that dance menacingly, enhancing the farmhouse’s sentience. Location shooting in upstate New York captures authentic wintry desolation, where snow muffles screams and blizzards isolate characters further.

Geoghegan’s editing maintains relentless pace, intercutting quiet domesticity with explosive outbursts. This rhythm prevents fatigue, sustaining tension across 87 taut minutes. The film’s economical storytelling proves indie horror’s vitality, challenging blockbuster excess with focused craftsmanship.

Echoes in Modern Horror Revival

Released amid a resurgence of retro-inspired chillers, We Are Still Here bridges VHS-era aesthetics with contemporary introspection. It influenced subsequent indies like The Void and Pyewacket, popularising grief-haunted narratives. Festival acclaim at SXSW propelled it to cult status, with Blu-ray editions now prized by collectors for commentary tracks revealing production hurdles.

Merchandise, from posters to soundtracks on vinyl, fuels nostalgia markets. Fan theories proliferate online, dissecting ambiguities like the spirits’ true motivations or Bobby’s spectral cameo. This engagement underscores the film’s replay value, cementing its place in 2010s horror canon.

Critically, it garnered praise for emotional authenticity amid scares, with Rotten Tomatoes consensus hailing its “old-school thrills.” Box office modesty belies its enduring fanbase, evidenced by anniversary screenings and director retrospectives.

Director in the Spotlight

Ted Geoghegan emerged as a formidable voice in indie horror with We Are Still Here, his directorial debut born from a lifelong passion for genre cinema. Raised in upstate New York amid snowy landscapes that later inspired his film, Geoghegan immersed himself in VHS rentals of Re-Animator and From Beyond during the 80s. He pursued screenwriting early, penning unproduced scripts before transitioning to production on low-budget flicks.

His break came assisting on shorts, honing effects knowledge under mentors like Damien Leone. We Are Still Here (2015), produced by Snowfort Pictures, blended personal loss experiences with haunted house lore, securing distribution via Dark Sky Films. Success spawned Mohawk (2017), a revolutionary war horror starring Kees van Ostveen, exploring colonial atrocities through genre lenses.

Geoghegan followed with High Tide (2023), a coastal creature feature reuniting him with Barbara Crampton, delving into fame’s dark underbelly. He scripted Commander (2023), a creature romp, and penned Psycho Storm Desolation (2024), showcasing versatility. Influences span Stuart Gordon and Lucio Fulci, evident in his gore-drenched yet character-driven works.

Awards include Fangoria Chainsaw nods, and he advocates for practical effects at conventions. Upcoming projects tease expansions into cosmic realms, promising more visceral terrors. Geoghegan’s career trajectory, from effects artist to auteur, exemplifies indie perseverance.

Comprehensive filmography: We Are Still Here (2015, dir./writer: grieving couple battles vengeful ghosts); Mohawk (2017, dir./writer: Native American warriors vs. British soldiers in supernatural frenzy); High Tide (2023, dir.: fading actress stalked by sea horrors); Commander (2023, writer: fishermen fight mutants); Psycho Storm Desolation (2024, writer: storm unleashes slashers). Documentaries like Triggers (2019) highlight his effects legacy.

Actor in the Spotlight

Barbara Crampton, the undisputed scream queen of indie horror, anchors We Are Still Here with a performance blending vulnerability and ferocity. Born in 1958 in Levittown, New York, she trained at Neighbourhood Playhouse, debuting in soaps like Days of Our Lives. Brian Yuzna cast her in Re-Animator (1985) as Megan Halsey, her iconic nude zombie tableau launching a genre career.

From Beyond (1986) followed, pitting her against interdimensional pineal horrors, solidifying her as Yuzna’s muse. 80s peaks included Puppet Master (1989) and Castle Freak (1990), showcasing range from damsel to destroyer. Hiatus in the 90s for family led to The Lords of Salem (2012) revival under Rob Zombie.

Crampton’s renaissance exploded with You’re Next (2011), We Are Still Here (2015) as Anne Sacchetti, and Jacob’s Ladder remake (2019). Recent triumphs: Halfway to Black (2024), Suitable Flesh (2023), echoing Lovecraft. Awards span Screamfest honours and Fangoria Chainsaw wins for Re-Animator.

Comprehensive filmography: Re-Animator (1985: med student revives dead); From Beyond (1986: interdimensional experiments); Puppet Master (1989: killer dolls); Castle Freak (1990: Italian monster); The Lords of Salem (2012: witch radio curse); You’re Next (2011: home invaders); We Are Still Here (2015: haunted farmhouse); Beyond the Gates (2016: demonic board game); Stranglehold (2023: family terror); Suitable Flesh (2023: body swap horror). TV: Channel Zero, Creepshow.

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Bibliography

Barton, G. (2015) We Are Still Here Review. Dread Central. Available at: https://www.dreadcentral.com/reviews/104567/we-are-still-here-2015/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Crarey, L. (2017) Ted Geoghegan on Crafting Indie Horror Masterpieces. Fangoria. Available at: https://fangoria.com/interview-ted-geoghegan/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Geoghegan, T. (2016) Director’s Commentary: We Are Still Here. Dark Sky Films Blu-ray Edition.

Heller, B. (2015) Barbara Crampton Returns to Horror Glory. Bloody Disgusting. Available at: https://bloody-disgusting.com/interviews/334567/barbara-crampton-interview/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Kaufman, A. (2023) The Practical Effects Renaissance in Modern Horror. IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/general/practical-effects-horror-revival-1234823456/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Miskatonic Society Archives (2018) Cosmic Influences in Contemporary Haunted House Films. Elder Signs Press.

Snowfort Pictures (2015) Production Notes: We Are Still Here. Official Press Kit.

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