In the pantheon of horror films that haunted American living rooms during the golden age of network television, few crawl under your skin quite like Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark. Directed with eerie restraint by John Newland and first aired in 1973 as an ABC Movie of the Week, this quiet, relentless creeper proves that terror doesn’t need gore, explosions, or demonic contortions. Sometimes all you need are whispered voices, antique wallpaper, and a fireplace you really should’ve left alone.
A Premise as Simple as It Is Sinister
The story centers on Sally Farnham (Kim Darby), a young housewife who inherits a brooding Victorian mansion from her late grandmother. While poking around the dusty, shadow-laced corners of her new home, she discovers a sealed fireplace in the basement den—a detail which should have sent her running for a condo in Phoenix.
Despite the creepy handyman’s warning (“Some things are better left alone,” he mutters like every groundskeeper in every horror story ever), Sally opens the ash door and inadvertently releases three ancient goblin-like creatures. These little monsters—barely knee-high, perpetually whispering her name in sing-song voices—make it immediately clear they’ve got plans. Specifically: “She set us free. Now she belongs to us.”
How charming.
Monsters by the Inch, Fear by the Ton
It’s easy to scoff at the idea of pint-sized creatures as menacing villains, but Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark leans into the psychological impact of their size. These things don’t need brute force; they thrive on gaslighting, sabotage, and paralyzing dread. Their preferred weapons are shadows, sedation, and suggestion. It’s the horror of losing agency, of knowing no one believes you—especially your husband.
As Sally begins to unravel, so too does the boundary between reality and delusion. Her husband Alex (Jim Hutton), a perfectly 1970s variety of patronizing professional man, writes off her growing terror as hysteria. Which, of course, only deepens the trap. This is a movie about being alone in a house, but more importantly, about being alone in a marriage where no one listens. It’s Gaslight with goblins.
Direction, Atmosphere, and a Deliciously Bleak Ending
Director John Newland, best known for his work on One Step Beyond, knows exactly how to cultivate a slow-burn dread. The house is photographed with a sense of looming claustrophobia—dark-paneled walls, ornate fixtures, and unlit corridors seem to close in on Sally, scene by scene. The whispering sound design, repetitive and maddening, feels like nails on the back of your brain.
Kim Darby (previously of True Grit fame) is quietly heartbreaking as Sally. Her petite stature and gentle voice work in concert with the monsters rather than against them—they’re physically small, she’s emotionally shrinking. The terror becomes deeply internal, even intimate.
And that ending—that ending. Rarely has network television allowed such a dark, unflinching finale. Sally doesn’t escape. She’s not saved. She becomes one of them, her soul swallowed into the house she should never have unlocked. As her voice joins the chorus of whispering monsters in the fireplace, the screen fades—not with screams, but with resignation. Evil has won, quietly and without spectacle.
Low Budget, High Impact
Let’s be clear: the goblins are cheesy. Their rubber masks and black robes look like something from a haunted hayride at your local Elk’s Club. But—and this is important—they work. Because they’re never overused. They lurk. They stalk. They snatch things just out of sight. The fact that they look like children dressed for a church Halloween pageant only adds to the uncanny mood. These are the things hiding under your bed, the shadows you swear moved when the lights went out.
There’s no CGI. No jump scares. No orchestral stabs. Just a creeping sense of inevitable doom, served with mid-century modern furniture and a side of Valium.
Legacy and Influence
Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark lives on as a cult classic for a reason. It is not a bombastic horror showcase—but it never aspired to be. It has more in common with The Haunting or The Innocents than anything Hammer or Universal were producing at the time. Its impact was subtle, but lasting. Many genre fans recall seeing it as children and being unable to sleep for weeks. You never look at fireplaces the same way again.
The 2011 remake, produced by Guillermo del Toro, expanded the mythology and updated the creature design, but something about the simplicity of the original—its restraint, its smallness—remains uniquely terrifying.
Final Thoughts: The Fireplace from Hell
Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark is a reminder that real horror doesn’t shout—it whispers. It doesn’t slash—it scratches. It doesn’t chase you through the streets—it waits for you in the dark, in the silence, just behind the hearth.
It may have been a modest TV movie with rubber monsters and ABC limitations, but it endures because it knew how to get inside your head. And once it’s in there… it doesn’t want to leave.
Rating: 4.5 out of 5 whispering ash doors
Turn out the lights. You’ll hear them. And they’ll want you.
