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At his wit's end, the developer tries to use the boric acid on the couple, but he inhales a mouthful and faints. The couple picks the developer up from the hospital and brings him home, where their family welcomes him back, many of them now sporting additional limbs. The final scene shows the family ravaging the inside of the house—climbing up the walls and chewing through everything. The developer, having regressed to animal-like intelligence, briefly emerges from the remains of the oven to eat garbage before retreating underground.
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Unlike the characters in the other two segments, Mabel and her family are human — but they’re an unusually soft and shapeless form of human, with bulging felted faces and beady little features, all set close together. They look like blurry Aardman Animation characters — Wallace and Gromit, but out of focus, or as if they’d melted a bit after being left out in the rain. The house around them is more concrete and looming, and it dwarfs them and makes them feel less real as the story progresses. Shortly after that, a mysterious, eccentric architect offers to build the seething Raymond and his dubious but supportive wife Penny (Claudie Blakley) a lavish new home, on the condition that they move there and never leave.
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The third segment, from British actor-director Paloma Baeza, eases away from the oppression of the first two stories. This time, the residents of the house — now surrounded by floodwaters in a softly post-apocalyptic setting — are anthropomorphic cats. Like the Developer, the house’s owner, a calico named Rosa (Susan Wokoma), is obsessed with renovation and profit. She’s been running the place as a boarding house, but after “the floods,” most of her residents abandoned her, and she’s left with only two tenants, neither of whom can pay rent.
The House (2017 film)
After a visit from wealthy, condescending relatives, Raymond wanders drunk into the forest at night and encounters the mysterious architect Mr. Van Schoonbeek. The following morning, Van Schoonbeek's employee Mr. Thomas visits the family and convinces Raymond and Penny to accept Van Schoonbeek's offer to move into a new luxurious house built for them at no charge. Their newfound paradise soon turns into a living nightmare when they discover that the former owner is still stran... Read allVivian and Ryan Williams couldn't be happier after buying their dream home. Their newfound paradise soon turns into a living nightmare when they discover that the former owner is still strangely attached to the house.Vivian and Ryan Williams couldn't be happier after buying their dream home. Their newfound paradise soon turns into a living nightmare when they discover that the former owner is still strangely attached to the house.
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Bradley Cooper Filmed His New Movie Maestro at Leonard Bernstein's Real Home.
Posted: Wed, 20 Dec 2023 08:00:00 GMT [source]
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When the sisters finally reunite with their parents, they find Raymond and Penny turned into furniture—Raymond into a chair and Penny into curtains. Using the curtains to climb out a window while their parents burn alive, Mabel and Isobel escape before watching the smoking house from a distance as the sun rises. A young girl named Mabel lives with her father Raymond, mother Penny, and newborn sister Isobel in relative poverty.
Through all three stories, the animation is the star, with the textures of each character’s fur or skin manipulated as much as their limbs and heads are, and the movement made so smooth as to make the viewer forget it’s a stop-action animated film. Despite the grimness of the stories, the expressiveness of the animation is what kept us engaged. Ferrell and Poehler can only do so much with barely-there characters in half-baked situations. Because they hardly feel like people—about halfway through, I realized I didn’t even know their characters’ names—the extraordinary scheme they’ve concocted for themselves makes no sense and has no momentum. It also has no laughs, or at least precious few, which is why a movie with this caliber of star power is being sneaked into theaters without being shown to critics ahead of time.
I can only hope that, like Rosa and her beautiful home, we can find a way to sail into the flood. Ferrell and Poehler star as Scott and Kate Johansen, nerdy suburbanites who live in a spacious home in a charming, leafy village called Fox Meadow. Their teenage daughter, Alex (Ryan Simpkins), has just been accepted to her dream school of Bucknell University. But for some reason, Scott and Kate never set aside any money for her college education; despite their well-off status, it’s unclear what they do for a living, and in an unfunny running bit, Scott is terrible with numbers. So they rely on the annual scholarship the town awards—only this year, soulless city councilman Bob (Kroll) plans to use that money for a lavish community pool.
Each tale—which, while animated, are dark and creepy and morbid and decidedly not for young children—centers on a different house. The houses are beacons of corruption, objects of scams, and symbols of thwarted dreams. The protagonists move into them, out of them, fix them up, tear them down, and ride them off into the sunset. And with all three houses come lessons about materialism, about deception, and about letting go. Here, Ferrell and Poehler—fellow former “Saturday Night Live” cast members who also co-starred in “Blades of Glory”—barely seem to know each other, much less enjoy any sort of chemistry.
Alex acknowledges her parents' warnings and expresses her interest in attending the same university her parents went to. Alex gets accepted to the university, which the Johansens expect to be funded by their community's scholarship program. In a world that suffered an apocalyptic flood and is populated by anthropomorphic cats, the house is surrounded by water which keeps rising.
The foundation for the anthology is established by the gothic cloth animation of Emma De Swaef & Marc James Roels, who previously orchestrated the colonization mini-anthology short “This Magnificent Cake! ” Their eye for towering sets, intricate stark detail, and characters with tiny eyes and mouths continues here, with a slow burn tale about a family that suffers from a Faustian homeowner bargain. The father Raymond (Matthew Goode) makes a deal with “an architect of great renown” that he runs into the woods named Mr. Van Schoonbeek (Barney Pilling), who offers them a new mansion and furnishings, for free.
Photos show the "Up" house, home to the fictional Carl Fredricksen and his late wife Ellie, brought to life with photos of the couple and just like in the movie, held up by 8,000 balloons among the red rocks of Abiquiu, New Mexico. All three parts of The House have their nightmarish aspects, often literally, as reality shifts around the characters, or ordinary objects are imbued with dread. In spite of the furry characters in the second two stories and the child protagonist in the first, this anthology isn’t meant for children. It isn’t violent or sexual, the usual signs of “not for children” fare, but its focus on unnerving the audience and unmooring the characters from reality makes it a more adult saga than most stop-motion projects. Maybe it isn’t saying much to note that Netflix’s stop-motion film The House features the most disturbing, skin-crawling, stomach-flipping vermin-based musical number since the 2019 CG-fest Cats. But it should count for something that this collection of three weird animated stories is so capable of unnerving an audience with something so gleeful and playful.
In the second segment, from Swedish director Niki Lindroth von Bahr, the characters are rats. While the bones of the house and the lines of its exterior are exactly the same, it seems to be a different place entirely — an airy, spacious home located in a bustling city. But the house is infested with hard-to-eradicate fur beetles, which have other ideas for the place. And that somehow ties into a different form of home infestation that the Developer has a hard time shaking. It’s an easy detail to forget, because it’s easy to get lost in the compelling narrative of the three short animated films that make up The House.
Elias (Will Sharpe), a shy black cat with a clear crush on Rosa, and the easygoing hippie-cat Jen (Helena Bonham Carter) gently dodge her hints about payment, and when Jen’s guru friend Cosmos (Paul Kaye) arrives, he further complicates the situation. Despite the various circumstances and timelines, in each story the house represents a kind of lifeline for the characters. It’s a chance for a family to inspire jealousy, for a mouse to pull himself out of the crushing weight of debt, and for a cat to slowly build the home of her dreams.
Like the first two chapters, the final story centers on a single-minded striver obsessed with her house, and watching her ambitions deflate around her. But where the first story is chilling and the second one is saddening, the third has other ambitions that make the whole project fall more clearly into place. All three parts were scripted by Irish playwright and screenwriter Enda Walsh (best known for 2008’s gutting historical film Hunger, directed by Steve McQueen and starring Michael Fassbender). And while Walsh’s scripts don’t initially seem to take place in the same world or have much in common, apart from the house’s layout, this third segment brings all three into focus. The third and final story of The House, directed by Paloma Baeza, ends, thankfully, on a more uplifting note. A landlady named Rosa (voiced by Susan Wokoma) is determined to pursue her life-long dream of fixing up a crumbling but beautiful Victorian home, despite the fact that a devastating flood has driven away almost all of her residents.
