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As a resident of the Nutmeg State, and only a few exits down I-84 from Southington, where the events this movie is based on actually took place, I guess I had made the decision to see The Haunting in Connecticut even before I consciously understood it. My frontal lobe thought, “PG-13, haunted house, high percentage of negative reviews, no thanks,” while the mini-critic who lives in my head said, “Who the hell are you kidding? It’s a movie with Connecticut in the title: you’re going.” And I am glad I did. Because though it has its flaws (and some of them admittedly deep and long as the Nile) it really isn’t that bad. Not great by any stretch, but it has a brisk pace and creepier visuals than I expected.
The Campbell family is experiencing some problems. Dad is a recovering drunk, eldest son Matt is battling with UMC (Unspecified Movie Cancer), and Mom feels like she is holding her firstborn’s feet out of the fire with the sheer force of her will. Meanwhile, the younger siblings are left to fend for themselves out in Ordinary People territory. Then there is the cousin who is staying with the family, Rachel Crew in a thankless, underwritten, cipher role, whose job it is to hold Matt’s hand and say things like, “C’mon, you can talk to me.” Thereby we get chunks of plot explained to us. And as opposed to other horror films of this ilk, there is actually a plot to speak of. Instead of continuing the harrowing commute from wherever they live (which is never mentioned in the film), the whole Campbell clan uproots to an unbelievably large and affordable house near to the hospital where Matt is receiving his UMCUT (Unspecified Movie Cancer Unspecified Treatment). And even if the plot device wasn’t telegraphed in the title, you would already be able to intuit that the house, actually a now-defunct mortuary (with all the implements of the trade conveniently left in pristine condition in the basement) is haunted. In fact, I would hazard to say that it is HAF (Haunted as Fuck). Matt begins seeing apparitions and events from the past almost immediately, including having some decidedly unsettling hallucinations of his own (presumably brought on by some facet of his UMCUT).
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After Little Sister breaks through a floorboard in the attic, we get the impetus we need to drive the story out of the rut it is threatening to furrow into the carpets of our minds (Boy Sees Ghost, Boy Freaks Out, Family Thinks Boy is Crazy, etc.) via a stack of papers and a box filled with mysterious photos and incredibly disgusting fleshy souvenirs. The Scooby Gang now get their LMM (Library Microfiche Montage) and we learn that the previous owner of the house was a funeral director who held séances after hours utilizing the talents of his pet medium, you guessed it, the same young man that Matt has been seeing. As it turns out, the duo had been performing necromancy on stolen corpses, in an attempt to amplify the psychic powers of the boy wonder. They know they have succeeded after their last ever séance, when everyone in attendance is burned to a crispy consistency through mysterious means. 
| By this point, the movie has been a pretty decent meditation on the thin line that separates a living human from a dead human, the emotional attachment to such an absolute truth, and what can happen when someone disregards the sanctity of such. Elias Koteas as Matt’s pet priest totally one-ups the creepy Martin Donovan as Dad, and all of the eyelids and ectoplasm and corpses with runic incantations carved into every available inch of their lifeless flesh really got under my skin, if you will forgive my obvious pun. And the climax is all set to deliver the goods: after a Ring-ish mistake made by Father Popescu (Koteas), Matt finally understands what he needs to do to make all the bad thingies go bye-bye, and a discovery that he makes garners what is damned close to a JDV (Jaw-Dropping Visual). This is all undermined by what I felt was an unnecessarily maudlin interlude followed with a feel-good dogshit ending.
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Despite the flaws that I have (gleefully) delineated above, I did not leave the theater feeling that I had wasted my time (or, more importantly, my money). Nope. I think that, ultimately, it gets more things right than it does wrong. The performances are solid, the action doesn’t get bogged down, the 1987 setting saves us from stupid pop songs populating the piece, and the SFX are tight like the first night. Use a Redbox free Monday code, and you can’t go wrong.
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