The Haunted Science Fair Project from Hell
Some horror movies haunt you long after the credits roll. Our House (2018) haunts you in a different way—like that nagging thought that you left your oven on, except the oven is your brain and it’s slowly melting from boredom.
Directed by Anthony Scott Burns and written by Nathan Parker (based on Ghost from the Machine), Our House is a supernatural horror film about grief, loss, and what happens when you plug an electrical engineering degree into the afterlife. In theory, it’s Frankenstein meets Poltergeist. In execution, it’s Bill Nye the Science Guy if Bill accidentally summoned demons instead of teaching electromagnetism.
Science Has Gone Too Far (And Too Slow)
Meet Ethan (Thomas Mann), a well-meaning college student and self-proclaimed “inventor.” He’s built a machine called ELI—because apparently naming it HAL or SKYNET was too subtle—that’s supposed to wirelessly transmit electricity. Instead, it wirelessly summons ghosts, which is honestly the most believable part of the film.
After sneaking into his university lab for a “totally safe” after-hours experiment, Ethan manages to knock out the entire campus power grid and accidentally open a spectral rift into another dimension. Classic freshman mistake.
When he wakes up the next morning, his parents are dead in a car crash, presumably from the sheer force of narrative convenience. Ethan returns home to care for his younger siblings, Becca and Matt, while simultaneously tinkering with ELI in his basement—because nothing says good coping mechanisms like playing with a demon-powered generator near small children.
The result? A movie that promises “high-voltage horror” and delivers “mild static shock.”
Ghosts by RadioShack
Soon after firing up his homemade spirit radio, Ethan starts noticing weird things: flickering lights, ghostly shadows, and a wind chime budget that clearly cost more than the script. Becca, the youngest sibling, starts chatting with an imaginary friend named Alice—always a good sign in horror movies and absolutely nothing to worry about.
Matt, meanwhile, does what middle children do best: he exists.
It’s around this point the movie begins to lose track of what kind of story it wants to tell. Is it about a grieving family finding closure through science? Is it a cautionary tale about tampering with the unknown? Or is it a remake of a movie no one saw in the first place, repackaged for people who confuse slow pacing with artistic depth?
Our House answers with a firm “yes” to all three, then proceeds to trip over its own tone.
The Cast: Talented People, Trapped in an IKEA Séance
Thomas Mann (Kong: Skull Island) is a capable actor, but here he spends most of the runtime staring meaningfully at circuit boards like he’s trying to will the script into existence. His Ethan is meant to be tortured and brilliant, but he mostly just looks tired—probably from carrying a movie that’s running entirely on low battery.
Nicola Peltz (Transformers: Age of Extinction) plays Hannah, Ethan’s girlfriend, whose main role is to remind him that maybe summoning ghosts from the basement isn’t the best way to process trauma. It’s the film’s only smart idea, and naturally, no one listens to her.
Percy Hynes White and Kate Moyer as the younger siblings are perfectly fine, though both are given dialogue so bland it could’ve been written by an algorithm designed to produce “generic child character #2.”
And then there’s Robert B. Kennedy as the friendly neighbor Tom, who helps Ethan tap into the street’s power grid—because nothing says “good neighbor” like aiding in supernatural energy theft. Tom’s eventually possessed by ghosts, which at least gives him something to do besides stare wistfully at his wife’s photograph.
The Ghosts: Casper’s Disappointing Cousins
Let’s talk about the ghosts. They’re not particularly scary, or even coherent. Sometimes they’re smoky shadows, sometimes flickering lights, and sometimes a little girl holding a doll like she’s auditioning for the world’s most tired horror trope.
The film tries to build dread slowly, but what it actually builds is a powerful urge to check your phone. The scares are so restrained they might as well be on strike. The sound design swells, the lights flicker, someone whispers a child’s name, and then… nothing.
Even the ghosts seem bored, like they’re haunting out of contractual obligation.
The Doll from Hell (Batteries Not Included)
There’s also a cursed doll because of course there is. Becca’s “imaginary friend” Alice supposedly owns it, and the doll acts as a conduit for evil spirits. Dolls are to horror movies what carburetors are to cars—you can’t have one without the other.
Every time that doll appears, the movie treats it like a major revelation. Spoiler alert: it’s not. It’s just a porcelain object with less personality than the family using it as a plot device.
The final shot of the movie involves the doll peeking out of a moving box, implying that the evil hasn’t been defeated. Honestly, if that doll wants to haunt someone else, I say let it.
Pacing: Like Watching Paint Dry in Purgatory
The worst sin Our House commits isn’t being unoriginal—it’s being boring.
The first 30 minutes are dedicated to establishing how sad everyone is. The next 40 involve vague electrical issues and family bonding that could double as a Duracell commercial. Then, in the final 20 minutes, the movie remembers it’s supposed to be horror and throws in some smoky CGI ghosts who disappear faster than your interest in the film.
The editing feels like it was done by someone who fell asleep halfway through. Every scene lingers too long, as though the director was hoping atmosphere could fill the void where scares should be.
If tension were electricity, ELI would still be unplugged.
The Message: Don’t Try This at Home (or Anywhere)
Our House desperately wants to say something profound about grief, science, and the human need to connect with the departed. Unfortunately, it ends up saying, “Maybe ghosts are just bad Wi-Fi.”
Its central metaphor—technology as a bridge between life and death—could’ve been fascinating. Instead, it’s treated like a loose subplot wedged between PG-13 jump scares and emotional outbursts that feel like deleted scenes from a high school drama club.
There’s no moral, no emotional catharsis, and certainly no satisfying resolution. Just a doll, some smoke, and the sinking realization that you’ve spent 90 minutes waiting for a ghost to do literally anything.
The Ending: Now With 30% More Shrug
In the finale, Ethan realizes that the ghosts are not his parents but something much darker—though frankly, even Satan would’ve fallen asleep by this point. He smashes his invention with a baseball bat, freeing his siblings and the audience alike.
The family moves to a new house, everyone smiles, and then—boo!—the doll’s still evil. Cue credits. Cue relief. Cue instant forgetting.
It’s meant to be ominous, but it plays more like a post-credits gag: “Thanks for watching! Please don’t make us do this again.”
Final Verdict: Not So Much Haunted as Half-Charged
In the end, Our House isn’t terrifying—it’s tepid. It’s the horror equivalent of lukewarm coffee: technically functional, but wholly unsatisfying. The cast tries, the direction looks fine, and the concept could have worked—but it all short-circuits under the weight of its own seriousness.
It’s a film about electricity that has no spark. A ghost story where the ghosts forgot their lines. A family drama that makes grief look about as exciting as watching someone plug in a toaster.
Final Score: 1.5 out of 5 Haunted Circuit Boards.
Our House proves one thing: if you’re going to mess with the forces of life and death, at least make it interesting—or at least make it shorter.
