Welcome to Havenhurst, Where Logic Is Evicted
There’s a lot of talk these days about the housing crisis, but few films tackle it quite like Havenhurst—a horror movie about an apartment complex that kicks out its tenants by murdering them. Sounds juicy, right? Unfortunately, what could have been Rosemary’s Baby meets HGTV’s House Hunters: Blood Edition turns into a lifeless slog that confuses shadowy lighting for suspense and creaky floorboards for character development.
It’s as if someone took the concept of “a haunted apartment building” and ran it through a blender with Saw, The Haunting of Hill House, and a 2003 episode of CSI: Manhattan Misfire. The result is a movie that’s half horror, half amnesia.
The Premise: Booze, Blood, and Blah
Julie Benz (yes, that’s right—Darla from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, still trying to escape the shadows of better scripts) plays Jackie, a recovering alcoholic who moves into Havenhurst, a gothic building with more secrets than a Kardashian NDA. The catch: she must stay sober, or she’ll be “evicted.” Which, as it turns out, doesn’t mean losing your deposit—it means being killed by an inbred handyman with a machete and the personality of a wet dishrag.
Jackie’s reason for moving in? She’s looking for her missing friend Danielle (played by Danielle Harris, who, despite being a horror icon, clocks about five minutes of screen time before getting violently redecorated into the wallpaper).
The rest of the film follows Jackie investigating the mystery while wandering through poorly lit hallways, muttering “what the hell is going on?”—a question that the audience shares with increasing desperation.
The Horror: A Killer Case of Déjà Boo
If Havenhurst were a person, it would be that one friend who keeps telling ghost stories but forgets all the good parts halfway through. There are plenty of “scary” elements—creepy noises, blood-smeared walls, ominous whispers—but none of them connect to anything resembling tension.
Director Andrew C. Erin seems to believe that turning the lights off is the same as building suspense. Spoiler: it’s not. For a film about hidden rooms and serial killers, it’s astonishingly dull. Even the jump scares seem to yawn before they happen, as if the movie itself is apologizing for being predictable.
The kills? Mediocre at best. The movie teases a grand, bloody conspiracy—descendants of H. H. Holmes, secret torture chambers, an evil lineage—but delivers it with all the energy of a mid-season Criminal Minds rerun.
Jed, the hulking serial killer living in the walls, should’ve been terrifying. Instead, he looks like Leatherface’s shy cousin who only murders people when Mom says it’s bedtime.
Julie Benz: A Great Actress in a Terrible Lease
Let’s be clear—Julie Benz does her best. She brings an earnestness to the role that the script absolutely doesn’t deserve. Watching her stumble through Havenhurst feels like watching someone try to find the exit in an IKEA during a blackout. She’s confused, exhausted, and haunted by poor lighting design.
The film tries to give Jackie depth through her alcoholism—a theme that could’ve been a meaningful metaphor for addiction, guilt, and self-destruction. Instead, it’s just a cheap plot device. The minute she starts drinking again, you can practically hear the movie shouting, “She did the thing! Activate the plot!”
Benz deserves better. You can see her trying to elevate every line, even when she’s talking to a literal hole in the wall. But the script keeps her chained to generic dialogue like, “Something’s not right here,” and “I have to know the truth.” You don’t, Jackie. Trust us. The truth isn’t worth the rent.
Fionnula Flanagan: Gothic Grandma on Autopilot
Veteran actress Fionnula Flanagan plays Eleanor Mudgett, the landlady with a secret—and that secret is that she’s completely wasted in this movie. You know she’s the villain from the moment she appears, not because of the writing, but because she delivers every line with that ominous I’ve-read-this-script-before tone that says, “Yes, dear, the house is haunted, now sign the lease.”
She’s got the chilling demeanor of a church organ and the same haircut she’s had since The Others, but she’s so underused that by the end, you’re rooting for her to just kill everyone and get on with her evening tea.
The “Twist”: H. H. Holmes and the Plot Hole Hotel
At about the 70-minute mark, the film drops what it clearly thinks is a bombshell: Havenhurst is run by descendants of infamous serial killer H. H. Holmes. Which, in theory, could’ve been fascinating—Holmes’ “Murder Castle” legacy reimagined in modern-day New York? Sign me up!
But instead of exploring the psychology or history behind this revelation, the movie treats it like a trivia answer and moves on. “We’re related to a murderer, now get in the secret elevator of doom!” It’s a twist so lazy it feels like it wandered in from another script and decided to stay.
Even the building itself—supposedly this sprawling maze of hidden passages—ends up being confusingly edited. The geography never makes sense. Characters disappear, reappear, and teleport through plot holes like they’re auditioning for Doctor Who: The Ghostly Lease.
Sarah: The Child Who Out-Smarts the Adults (Barely)
Of course, no horror movie is complete without a traumatized child. Enter Sarah (Belle Shouse), the resident foster kid whose life is basically a tragic cautionary tale about CPS budget cuts. She’s the only one in the movie who seems remotely aware that the building is a deathtrap, which, naturally, means no one listens to her.
Sarah spends most of the film whispering ominous things like, “It’s in the walls” and “We can’t leave,” while every adult responds with, “I’m sure it’s fine.” Honestly, by the halfway mark, I was rooting for the building.
The Pacing: Like Watching Paint Dry in the Dark
Havenhurst has a runtime of 80 minutes, but it somehow feels like two hours of watching someone wander around with a flashlight asking, “Hello?” Every potentially interesting thread—Jackie’s guilt, the building’s history, the H. H. Holmes connection—is introduced and then promptly abandoned in favor of another trip down the world’s least suspenseful corridor.
Even the climactic chase scene feels sluggish. When your protagonist and the killer are both limping at the same speed, it’s hard to feel scared. By the time the ending rolls around, you’re not on the edge of your seat—you’re checking Zillow for new places to live.
The Ending: Ghosts, Gaslighting, and Good Riddance
In the grand tradition of bad horror, Havenhurst ends on a note of vague nihilism. Jackie sacrifices herself to save Sarah, the cops show up too late, and Fionnula Flanagan’s creepy landlady convinces everyone that nothing’s wrong. The final twist? Sarah decides to stay and “join the family.”
So basically, evil wins. But not in a cool, The Witch-style “evil is seductive” way—more in a “the writer ran out of time” kind of way.
It’s the cinematic equivalent of a shrug. “Well, guess everyone’s dead! Roll credits!”
Final Thoughts: Eviction Notice Served
Havenhurst is a horror film that wants to be gothic and mysterious but ends up as a confused mashup of clichés, squandered ideas, and undercooked atmosphere. It’s not scary enough to be thrilling, not stylish enough to be campy, and not smart enough to be memorable.
It’s a movie that mistakes dim lighting for depth and mistake-filled blueprints for mystery. Even the building itself seems bored of the plot, creaking in protest every time another character forgets what they’re doing.
Grade: D (for “Don’t Move In”)
Recommended for: people who think “haunted architecture” is a personality trait, or anyone who’s ever watched a ghost movie and thought, “You know what this needs? More rent payments.”
