Opening Thoughts: From Porno to Poltergeist
When your director’s résumé includes Defiance! (1975) and The Taking of Christina (1976) — both adult films — you don’t exactly expect The Exorcist. But with The Nesting, Armand Weston decided to swap sweaty bed sheets for creaky floorboards, apparently assuming horror and porn were interchangeable genres. Spoiler: they’re not. Unless your idea of supernatural tension is watching people wander around a Victorian house in New York looking mildly confused, this “ghost story” will have you checking your watch more than the shadows.
This movie tries to be a moody haunted house piece with mystery, gore, and psychological drama. Unfortunately, it ends up like a séance where the only spirit that shows up is boredom.
Plot: Like a Soap Opera with Murder and Mold
Our heroine, Lauren Cochran (Robin Groves), is a New York novelist suffering from agoraphobia. She thinks renting a massive Victorian mansion in rural upstate New York will cure her fear of the outside world — because nothing says “comfort” like an isolated structure straight out of a Scooby-Doo establishing shot. The place belongs to physicist Daniel Griffith and his grandfather, Colonel Lebrun (John Carradine), who reacts to Lauren’s presence by having a stroke. Same, Colonel. Same.
Lauren starts having visions of women lounging around the house, and we learn it used to be a brothel during WWII. Ghost prostitutes? Sure. Why not. Between hallucinations and jump-scares that wouldn’t scare a toddler, she discovers her shrink is killed trying to save her, a handyman levitates for no explained reason, and a drunken local attacks her in a barn only to get impaled by a scythe in what’s supposed to be a shocking moment but plays like a Final Destination reject.
Eventually, the big reveal is that Lauren is the granddaughter of the brothel’s madame, Florinda (Gloria Grahame, slumming it in her last screen role), and the sole infant survivor of a mass murder. This should be chilling. Instead, it feels like the twist was pulled from a hat containing random gothic clichés.
The Ghosts: Less Scary Than Your Wi-Fi Going Out
For a film about angry spirits, the ghosts here have less menace than the cast of Casper. They show up to stare, maybe wave a weapon around, and then vanish until the next scene. The murders that anchor the haunting are told in flashbacks and hallucinations that seem to follow no particular logic — sometimes they’re vivid, sometimes they look like someone smeared Vaseline on the lens and hoped for atmosphere.
The prostitute spirits are supposed to be tragic and vengeful, but most of them look like they just wandered in from a 1970s disco shoot. And the “massacre mansion” vibe is more “bed-and-breakfast with poor Yelp reviews.”
Lauren: The Most Annoying Final Girl in Upstate New York
Lauren is supposed to be sympathetic, but she spends most of the runtime alternating between wide-eyed shock and looking like she forgot where she parked. Her agoraphobia is played inconsistently — one scene she’s terrified of stepping outside, the next she’s casually running through woods and barns while being chased by drunken murderers. Robin Groves tries her best, but the script gives her all the depth of a dollar store Ouija board.
Her big hero moment? Stabbing a guy in the head with a scythe. Which sounds badass until you realize the guy is stumbling around drunk, unarmed, and arguably already halfway to death.
The Men: Walking Red Flags
-
Daniel Griffith: Bland as unbuttered toast. Spends most of the film explaining things we don’t care about and failing to notice his house is basically a paranormal halfway house.
-
Colonel Lebrun: John Carradine delivers his lines with all the energy of a man reading his own obituary. The stroke scene is the most believable part of his performance.
-
Frank Beasley: A handyman whose attempted assault is interrupted by spontaneous levitation. No explanation is given, because the film doesn’t believe in those.
-
Abner Welles: A drunk whose idea of a fun afternoon is chasing women with a pitchfork. His death-by-scythe is gruesome but also unintentionally hilarious — like a bad slasher parody.
The Big Reveal: And You Thought Your Family Reunions Were Awkward
By the third act, we find out Lauren is Florinda’s granddaughter, tying her to the house and its tragic past. In a better movie, this would pack emotional weight. Here, it’s tossed in like a shrug — “Oh yeah, you’re related to the ghosts. Anyway, here’s another vision sequence.” The finale mixes fire, hallucinations, and the sudden appearance of Frank’s truck smashing into the house, but by then the tension’s flatter than week-old champagne.
The Atmosphere: Pretty House, Ugly Movie
The Armour-Stiner House — the film’s main location — is gorgeous. Octagonal, ornate, and creepy in just the right way. Unfortunately, all the production managed to do with it is make it look like a set for an underfunded made-for-TV movie. Lighting swings between “blindingly bright daytime” and “so dark you’re squinting at shadows,” killing any consistent tone.
The soundtrack tries for eerie but lands somewhere between stock music and forgotten elevator tunes. You could replace half the score with sitcom laugh tracks and it might actually make the pacing feel snappier.
Gloria Grahame: A Sad Swan Song
Oscar-winner Gloria Grahame deserved better than this. Playing Florinda, she pops up in the final act looking like she wandered onto set after asking for directions to a real movie. She’s supposed to be regal and haunting, but she’s given so little screen time and such awkward dialogue that her presence barely registers. As her last role before her death, it’s a depressing footnote in an otherwise luminous career.
Final Verdict: Massacre Mansion, Massacre of Your Patience
The Nesting wants to be a gothic psychological horror with haunted-house chills, family secrets, and supernatural vengeance. What it delivers is a sluggish, disjointed mess with pacing so off you could fit another movie inside it. The gore is sporadic, the scares are lukewarm, and the plot stumbles over its own clichés like a drunk in a barn with a pitchfork.
If you’re a fan of haunted house movies, skip this and watch The Changeling (1980) instead. If you’re a fan of “so bad it’s good” cinema, The Nesting might scratch your itch — as long as you’re ready for stretches of nothing broken up by bursts of unintentional comedy.
