‘Something is happening in our house…’
Women going mad in a creepy old house is a premise that has long been beloved by horror writers. Starting with The Turn of the Screw and then through Gaslight, Rosemary’s Baby and The Others, this trope speaks to the innate fear that all women deservedly harbour about not being believed. The problem with What Lies Beneath is that it doesn’t have anything new to say…
Claire (Michelle Pfeiffer) and Norman Spencer (Harrison Ford) inherit an old gothic townhouse following the death of Norman’s father. Upon arrival, Claire starts to hear voices and see things. Strange things. Things appearing in the reflection of the bathtub or barely glanced in mirrors.
The first part of What Lies Beneath when Claire believes that her neighbour has killed his wife is a perfectly serviceable Hitchcockian potboiler that is elevated by the star power of Ford and Pfeiffer. When Robert Zemeckis’ film goes full supernatural, however, it drowns under the weight of its influences. Apart from the aforementioned, Rebecca is also a huge influence here, the problem is that What Lies Beneath simply isn’t as effective as the films and books that came before it that dealt with similar subject matter. It doesn’t help that all the washed-out blues and greys rob the film of any vibrancy or style.
The script was written by Clark Gregg (better known as an actor from various MCU films) and Sarah Kernochan and it is no surprise that neither went on to write much else after this film. It’s not bad, it’s just… competent. And I am intentionally damning the film with faint praise there. There is nothing bombastic or innovative here. It’s the definition of average and as previously mentioned with a lesser cast this would simply be a bad movie.
What Lies Beneath is neither thrilling nor frightening. It just is. And at over two hours it more than outstays its welcome. A disappointment.