Welcome, foolish mortals.
Step in. Don’t be shy. I am your host. Your … movie host. Mind the stretching walls. Pay no attention to the floating candelabra. We must meet some people. Some … living people. Living, at least, for now.
BWAHAHAHA … er, sorry. Something caught in my throat. I’m fine now. Moving on.
Do you see that woman over there? By the curiously disturbing gargoyle light fixture? That’s Gabbie. Yes, she looks kindly, doesn’t she? She bought this lovely New Orleans mansion to provide her and her boy—that’s him, Travis, cowering in the corner—a fresh start. A new beginning. They hope—or, should I say, hoped—to turn this genteel estate into a bed-and-breakfast. But Gabbie could have no way of knowing that most of the rooms were already … occupied.
Now, I’m afraid, it’s merely a dead-and-breakfast.
BWAHAHAHAHA … oh, forgive me. Allergies.
Hmmm? What’s that, you ask? Who’s that man over there? By the curiously shuffling suit of armor? That’d be Ben, a brilliant inventor turned disgruntled tour guide. That strange, bulky device he’s holding in his hands is called a camera.
But it’s not just any camera. No, Ben invented a camera that could take pictures of the spirit world. He was hired by that fellow in the clerical collar—Kent, I believe—to either confirm or disprove Gabbie’s suspicions that the mansion might be … haunted.
Curiously, Ben doesn’t—or, should I say, didn’t—even believe in spirits. Why, he simply intended to take a few pretend pictures, declare the property ghost-free, collect an exorbitant fee and leave—never to return. (I suspect was the assumption of many of the mansion’s permanent residents, as well. To leave, that is.)
But this house, it gets under your skin, even if you no longer have any. Ben discovered just what Kent, and Gabbie, and Travis, have learned: If you leave the mansion, ghostly forces will follow you home and … encourage your return.
Why, you ask? Well that, I’m afraid, is one of our little secrets. All I can say that certain forces within the mansion enjoy a bit of life in its living rooms, a little pep in its parlors. A little more spirit, if you will. And even though that life is oh-so fleeting, and even though the house is stuffed to its antebellum rafters with ghosts, there’s always room for more.
What? You’d like to leave, you say? Oh, I’m so sorry. You crossed the threshold, too. You’re stuck here—strapped in as if this was an amusement park ride—until you finish reading this review. So sit back and relax.
I know you’re just … dying to continue.
Let’s begin with Gabbie. She not only looks kindly, she is kindly—especially when it comes to her little boy, Travis. He’s had a hard go of it lately, and Gabbie’s care and concern for him are heartwarming.
Ben slowly becomes something of a father figure to Travis as well. He plays with the boy and gives him strong advice. Even when Ben makes an error in judgment, it’s done to keep Travis as safe as possible. And he eventually shows a willingness to sacrifice for both the boy and others.
But Travis is a pretty brave kid in his own right. When he’s the only one who’ll fit in a secret tunnel, he doesn’t hesitate. (Well, OK, he hesitates a little. But you would, too.)
The title Haunted Mansion probably tips you off that the film has plenty of spiritual elements in play (999 of them, in fact). You’re liable to see them floating down the halls or zipping through a graveyard or, in one case, possessing a candle.
But the movie uses its ghostly activity as a kind of foil to the unbelieving, despairing Ben. He believes that his ghost camera was a failure, and now he thinks (much to his deep grief) that death is the end of the road. “Ghosts don’t exist, life is dust, we’re all dust!” he shouts at a tour group hoping to hear about New Orleans’ ghostly sites.
In the movie’s theology, ghosts are a good thing, because they prove that life doesn’t end with death. Moreover, we’re told that those who died happy and at peace don’t wind up as ghosts. The fact that mediums can’t communicate with certain folks proves that they’re happy and at peace, that they have successfully moved on to some sort of fulfilling afterlife. The only exception, the medium Harriet tells us, is the “ghost winks” that loved ones make beyond the grave. She talks about how her own father loved tinkering with model trains. Often when she’s missing him a lot or down in the dumps, she’ll hear a train whistle, and she’ll know it’s a wink from her father.
About those mediums: We meet two of them. Harriet is a normal, everyday medium who, like everyone else, gets trapped in the house. She’ mainly known for her readings at Bar Mitzvahs, but Kent insists she has a “very solid Yelp score.” Madam Leota—reportedly the most powerful medium in New Orleans’ history—is mainly a disembodied head floating in a crystal ball. (She tells us that it’s surprisingly roomy.)
Seances are a huge thing here, and repeated seances in the mansion apparently opened a door to something far more evil than had been native to the house. (We also see a Ouija board in one scene.) Harriet occasionally burns sage as some sort of supernatural deterrent.
Now, on to “Father Kent.” He wears a clerical collar and a cross around his neck, albeit one that also has a rabbit’s foot attached. He had been hired to conduct an exorcism that was, obviously, ineffective. He is a font of none-too-convincing Bible verses and spiritual clichés.
For instance: when he hires Ben and Ben asks him what he gets out of the deal, Kent says, “the treasures I seek are in heaven.” He then adds to Ben, “It’s my job to have faith, and I have faith in you.” He tells us that the “Lord works in mysterious ways” and quotes “Amazing Grace.” He “prays” at one point. “God, give us a break,” he says. “We don’t want to be haunted.” Ben suspects early on that he’s a fraud.
[Spoiler warning]: Kent is. The priestly outfit is a Halloween costume, and he hoped to make a few extra bucks from the “exorcism.” (Imagine his surprise when he discovered the place was truly haunted.) But the guy does like giving away stuff and caring for the needy, and we learn in a bit of a postscript that he becomes a priest for real.
A couple of characters experience a sort of possession. Certain mysterious, glowing cracks in the ground suggest portals to a dismal hell-like place. We see a church or two in the background of some scenes. There’s a reference to astral projection. There’s talk about blood sacrifices and deals with the devil.
When a visitor to another mansion asks if a cane in the corner belonged to the home’s previous owner, the guide says it’s hers, which she uses for “very personal reasons.” Those “personal reasons” could be an indication that she’s ashamed of a weak leg, but I suspect the joke was intended as a wink toward something far more crass.
We see a bit of Ben’s relationship with his (now departed) wife, including when they first met and when he first showed her his special camera. Later, Ben brings flowers to Gabbie, suggesting that they might also have a fledgling relationship.
An effeminate tour guide speaks to guests.
Where there are ghosts, there were dead bodies—ones that met their ends in violent ways. We’re told that the ghosts of the haunted mansion all died horrifically (and with curious specificity), and we see and hear how a few met their ends.
One hatchet-toting bride apparently beheaded several guys (we see their headless portraits in the attic), and she attacks the living with the axe as well. Two brothers fought a duel in one of the mansion’s hallways. We see their specters recreate the fight, and the ghost bullets apparently hurt humans, too. (Gabbie mentions that when she walks down a specific part of the hallway, she suffers mysterious pains in her side.) Several phantoms walk about with obvious mortal injuries.
We also hear about another mansion owner who was incredibly evil. He killed scads of people at his dinner parties (we don’t see their actual deaths, but rather paintings where the victims vanish), and we learn that his own servants murdered the owner—beheading the guy. (That act of violence is seen, but only as stylized shadows on a wall.)
A ghost harries Ben with a meat cleaver. Reality bends in a New Orleans house—meshing with the briny deep. The subsequent flood threatens someone’s well-being (and, presumably, does a lot of property damage). An alligator nearly snaps off someone’s foot. Glowing crevasses imperil the living. A ghost essentially tries to encourage a suicide. We hear how another ghost or two took their own lives.
Someone’s nearly impaled by a harpoon. Chairs sometimes speed off with people. One person is almost hit by a car. We hear about a character’s heart condition.
One other thing to note: Haunted Mansion can be quite startling and scary in places. Younger and/or sensitive kids who see this might be sleeping in their parents’ bedrooms for a few nights afterward.
One use of “d–n” and several misuses of God’s name. And while I don’t think the full spoken word makes it into the movie, it sure looks like Harriet mouths the s-word during one scene.
When we first meet Ben, he’s drinking heavily. We see him blearily at a bar, and his home seems festooned with empty and half-full bottles.
At first, Ben seems perfectly content to swindle Gabbie out of a $2,000 fee for doing next to nothing. One ghost masquerades as someone dearly departed for his own nefarious purposes.
Let’s talk about the Hatbox Ghost—the movie’s dapper, dastardly do-badder—for a minute. Because his real backstory is, I think, more interesting than the one he’s given for the film.
The Hatbox Ghost was among the original spooks in Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion when it opened in 1969. It featured a head that would vanish from where, well, heads should be, and rematerialize in a clear hatbox. Nifty trick that.
Only problem was, it didn’t work. Disney yanked the ghost from the ride and kept him in mothballs for 45 years.
But, somewhat appropriately, the ghost wouldn’t stay buried. Because he was such a prominent part of the ride’s initial marketing push, the Hatbox Ghost became something of a mysterious legend amongst Disney aficionados. Rumors started circulating that the ghost was just too scary for Disney—that it had actually given some (or several someones) a heart attack. When Disney reintroduced the (now-working) Hatbox Ghost to the ride again in 2014, he was greeted as a returning king, with fans conjuring up all manner of backstories to who he was and why he was at the mansion.
In some ways, the appeal and legend surrounding the Hatbox Ghost tells us a lot about what makes something creepily fun: It’s the unknown. For 45 years, the Hatbox Ghost went unseen, and yet his legend grew.
Indeed, what we see can indeed bother and even horrify us. But what we don’t see leads to, if you will, more satisfying scares. That’s one of the reasons why Haunted Mansion, the ride, works—and why Haunted Mansion, the movie, doesn’t.
The movie tells us all about the Hatbox Ghost and the history of the Haunted Mansion. It shows us that ghost—and honestly, the CGI turns this frightening figure into something more akin to Dr. Seuss’s Grinch. Instead of keeping us in the dark, it turns up the lights.
And what do we see in those lights? A bit of a mess.
Oh, certainly, some of the images might frighten younger kids. These ghosts can be scarier than is strictly responsible. But it’s all bluster. The jokes, likewise, feel forced and uneven. A dozen people allegedly had a hand in the script—and the confused multiplicity of voices shows.
And while the Haunted Mansion ride is satisfied with one eerie séance scene, the 2023 film seems smothered in them. Mediums, not priests, appear to be the strongest warriors against evil ghosts here. And it treats these seances a little like gummy bears: Sure, too many of them is a bad idea. But in moderation? Seances are just fine. Sometimes even necessary.
That gives Haunted Mansion a far darker spiritual vibe than I think even its makers intended. When your kids’ movie features rumors of blood sacrifices and strange rites, you’re probably on the wrong track. And all the forced yuks can’t wipe that occult ook away.
Haunted Mansion does try to keep superficial content concerns out of its cobwebbed halls. Sometimes unexpected issues pound on the doors, but most are kept locked in the closets.
But it seems in this latest cash grab that Disney hasn’t yet remembered what made it such an entertainment powerhouse—and such a beloved purveyor of family-friendly fare. It’s not about seances or CGI specters; it’s about story. And sometimes in storytelling, what you leave out is just as important as what you put in.
In the original Disney ride, guests are met by a ghost that fans call “Little Leota.” “Hurry back!” she tells riders. “And be sure to bring your death certificate.”
I don’t think many moviegoers will hurry back to see Haunted Mansion a second time. And perhaps the film is itself dead on arrival.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
