ABOUT MORE THAN YOUR AVERAGE HAUNTED HOUSE SHARE

                                                                                                                              

Paco Plaza's Verónica was released on Netflix last week with little fanfare, some good critical buzz, and no major expectations from anyone other than fans of Plaza's [Rec] films. Only a few days after its Netflix release, however, articles began appearing calling it perhaps one of the scariest movies ever made. Audiences took to Twitter to record their dread in real time, often talking about how they had to turn the movie off because it was so scary. No film can accumulate that sort of immediate pop imprimatur without escaping the notice of any tenacious horror fan, eager to discover if Verónica lives up to its hype.

I too have now watched Verónica, and I can declare handily: It's not the scariest movie ever made. It is, however, a skillfully made haunted house movie that seeks to be about more than your average haunted house movie. And while director Plaza may have more interest in his excellently creepy visuals – if you've heard about the demon in the hallway, then you know what to prepare for – he does not mishandle the film's more pertinent themes of sexual hysteria, burdened adolescence, and the death of childhood.

Verónica is based on the true story of Estafania Gutierrez Lazaro who, after staging a séance with a Ouija board, began to experience increasingly violent paranormal phenomenon. Scratches appeared on her body, and she became convinced that a monster was coming after her younger siblings. The night she died, Lazaro called the police screaming “He's in here!” The police rushed to the scene only to find a trashed apartment, a lot of blood, and a dead girl. She was 18.

Veronica is from Spanish director Paco Plaza (co-creator of the [Rec] film franchise).

Verónica envisions its young heroine, played by Sandra Escacena, as the put-upon substitute mom of her household. Her real mother works nights and sleeps during the day, leaving Verónica to take care of her three younger siblings. Verónica is too busy to have the concerns of the average teenager, and her nascent sexuality is something she's had to actively ignore. She also longs to talk to her absent father, a figure whose negative space fills a lot. Our heroine's dark journey begins when she sneaks off to the attic with a pair of friends to play with a Ouija board in the attic of her school... during a total solar eclipse. This opens a demonic doorway of some sort, and it's not long before a lanky, featureless figure is stalking the hallways of Verónica's tiny apartment, hurting her siblings, taking advantage of her fatigue and parental solitude.

Some of the imagery in Verónica is supremely creepy, and, as with most horror films, best consumed alone, at night, in the dark. Plaza knows how to startle an audience with a well-timed jump scare, but also to unnerve with an unexpected nightmare sequence; In the film's most potent and terrifying segment, Verónica imagines herself to be poetically victimized (I will refrain from saying how) by her brother and sisters.

Sandra Escacena stars in Veronica, now on Netflix.

This is all a metaphor, of course, about how working class families have had to disassemble in order to function. Verónica is all of 16, but has more or less become the mother of the house. This is a trial for anyone, but is especially trying for a teenage girl who still has to wrangle a relationship with her best friend, do homework, and finish growing up. The demon is a specter of unwanted maturity. The echo left behind by a callous, absent male. It's telling that the demon is a man.

After having seen many thematically empty haunted house films, this type of metaphor is appreciated; it puts flesh on Verónica's bones. It's doesn't necessarily make the film bottomlessly profound or groundbreakingly philosophical, but it's nice to note that it at least has something on its mind. And even if you aren't ignited by the thematic underpinnings, Plaza is going to pace and light his scenes in such a way that you'll be reaching for a pillow (or a date) to grasp in comfort as the darkness grows and the creatures lurk.

(For an international haunted house film that is equally creepy, and features equally potent images, and explores similar themes, I would like to recommend Babak Anfari's 2016 film Under the Shadow. Make it a double feature. I think they'd play well together.)

THE VERDICTIt's not “the scariest film of all time,” but Verónica is still plenty scary, and it features some rather well-executed haunted house imagery that will certainly get under your skin. Also, the film's messages of a decayed modern family add a lot of emotional heft to an already stressful scenario.