The Haunting of His House
Words by Liam Horgan
Back in 2017, Jordan Peele described his debut film Get Out as a social thriller. Broadly defined, a social thriller is a film that uses horror and thriller tropes to comment on or draw attention to an issue in society. Get Out was not the first time a film had been labelled with the social thriller tag, but it certainly was the film that brought the sub-genre to public attention. In the wake of Peele’s hit, many recent films have been labelled as social thrillers. Last year's Best Picture winner Parasite uses horror tropes in its critique of class division, while the Invisible Man focuses on an abused woman haunted by the ghosts of her past, drawing direct parallels with the Me Too movement. Given the nature of the social thriller, it was only a matter of time then until a film tackled the migrant crisis. Enter Remi Weekes’ His House.
The film follows husband and wife, Bol (Sope Dirisu) and Rial (Wunmi Mosaku), who struggle to settle in their new home in England following their escape from war-torn South Sudan and the loss of their daughter, Nyagak, at sea. Their fragile peace is threatened when the couple begins to experience supernatural events in their new home. Tormented by visions of their lost daughter and of figures that inhabit the walls of the house, the pair soon realise they are the prey of an apeth, a night witch. Rial tells Bol that an apeth appears when a debt must be paid. She believes if the couple pays this debt the apeth will return Nyagak to them. A haunted house tale at heart, His House reworks the genre tropes into a narrative that deftly balances the supernatural with the real, drawing tension from the dichotomy between them.
In many ways, His House invites comparison to Get Out. Both low budget horror films that look at issues of racism and inequality in our society, with near-universal approval ratings on Rotten Tomatoes; the parallels are clear. However, evaluating the film based on how it measures up to Peele’s hit does it a disservice. His House is clearly its own beast, diving more into the horror territory than Get Out and delivering its own unique message. As a commentary on the treatment of migrants and a tale of guilt and grief, His House stands tall alongside Peele’s social thriller.
Weekes’ film isn’t the first supernatural film to touch on the migrant crisis, Mati Diop’s Atlantics tread similar territory. But it is the first to deal with it with such veracity. The film touches on many aspects that refugees encounter daily. Whether it’s xenophobic neighbours, unsympathetic councillors or dilapidated living conditions, Bol and Rial’s status as migrants is never out of reach. Weekes’ film isn’t focused on the struggle to leave a home, it questions what happens after.
Many scenes reflect real-life events that occur daily yet are not focused on. Weekes’ deft balance of realism and the supernatural won him the Best Director award at the British Independent Film Awards, and rightly so. In the film’s most effective sequence, the apeth causes Bol to experience nightmarish visions. Transporting him to a watery hellscape inhabited by those who were lost at sea, Bol is attacked by these lost souls, including the child Nyagak. A child dying during a channel crossing has become an all too real event. Laced with the sad realities faced by migrants, the film lays the treatment of refugees bare for all to see. Weekes’ consulted with Right to Remain, a charity that helps people navigate the UK asylum system and Waging Peace, an organisation opposed to genocide and war crimes in Sudan. This ensured His House reflected the struggles of refugees truthfully. As the director explained to No Film School:
“Sometimes you have to let go of the more fictional elements in your head and lean on worldwide examples; You have to have relevance to the real world and be led by fact.”
The apeth; the night witch.
In His House, the supernatural elements are not caused by the society around our protagonists. The horrors of the apeth are from the world Bol and Rial left behind. It represents their trauma, their repression and their guilt. A literal living embodiment of forgotten horrors. This distinction is key to the success of His House’s message, in comparison to other social thrillers where the plots are influenced by the protagonists’ current predicament, the film’s supernatural elements have traveled with them. His House then balances two unique elements, the unnatural horrors of the night witch, and the natural horrors that the refugee system entails. Neither one overwhelms the other; instead, they co-exist, creating a living nightmare.
Like many migrants, Bol and Rial are given temporary accommodation under strict draconian rules. Neither can work nor can they willingly leave. Essentially under house arrest, the pair are forced to confront their past and the horrors that follow. In a twist, His House reveals that Nyagak, the couple’s presumed daughter, is actually a child Bol kidnapped in order to gain seats in outgoing transportation. Her death at sea is directly due to his actions. Suicide amongst refugees is all too common. As the world found out this year, forced isolation in your home is a tough thing, yet is a constant reality for refugees even before the pandemic. Touching on this, Bol and Rial confront their survivors' guilt. Bol believes the only way forward is through his own sacrifice.
In the end, it is Rial who defeats the apeth. In a refreshing twist, the pair both survive the events of the film. While Weekes doesn’t end his film on a high note, it is certainly a positive one. The couple has overcome the supernatural horrors by working together and embracing their past, and it seems as if they look set to do the same with the more ‘real’ obstacles in their way. But as His House has demonstrated throughout its runtime, our past never truly leaves us. Finishing on a stunning shot, we see Bol and Rial standing alone in their house surrounded by the ghosts of refugees and other figures from their past. Those that didn’t make it. As Bol states towards the end of the film;
“Your ghosts follow you, they never leave, they live with you. It’s when I let them in that I could start to face myself.”
If you want to learn more about the treatment of refugees across the UK and Ireland here are some helpful links:
