The Changeling (1980)

Having nothing to do with Clint Eastwood's Changeling (2008), this horror-mystery takes a while to explain its title. What you need to know up front is that a late-middle-aged George C. Scott plays John Russell, a man who copes with personal trauma by moving, specifically to a mansion that hasn't (officially) been occupied in decades. He gradually, yet sooner than I expected, discovers and believes the reason.

If you guessed a haunting, give yourself a smiley face. But unlike in some such stories I could name, the protagonist is not in much danger of dying, getting trapped, or going insane. He could quietly walk away and never look back if he wanted. Instead, he gathers that the usually invisible ghost here wants help and, like many in fiction, doesn't know an efficient, noncreepy way to communicate.

I questioned the decision to cast Scott. He's a bit like Michael Douglas: a very good actor, but not when it comes to projecting fear. Mainly he just seems annoyed. But that didn't prevent the movie from creeping me out to my satisfaction.

Ghost stories set themselves apart from other horrors, if they even count as horrors. Unlike most traditional monsters, ghosts typically do not have an intrinsic reason to terrorize people. Heck, believers keep saying that the majority of ghosts are no less benign than the majority of the living, and even poltergeists rarely attempt grievous bodily harm. You may think that the lack of a built-in motive for villainy means more horror potential, but I find that the scarier ones usually seek revenge, justice, or another form of posthumous closure that needn't threaten the innocent.

The real fear factor comes from the ambiguity of power limitations, especially for ghosts who rarely show themselves. Large-scale and long-range telekinesis, illusions, possession -- you never know what they'll do next. But again, the efficacy depends on the ingenuity of the writer first and foremost. The open-endedness of the subgenre is a two-edged sword. It gives writers a rope with which to hang themselves. (Sorry, can't think of a third violent conventional metaphor to apply.)

In this case, the ghost is that of a boy who died at age 5. That detail adds to the appalling aspects of his death that John unravels, but it also makes his spook self a bit spookier. He hasn't matured at all in 70+ years. Think of a kindergartner's inappropriate emotional reactions; now throw in phenomenal powers. The story never stays predictable for long, and the climax rather turns the world sideways.

One final thought: I've found many things that demonstrate a fine line between horror and comedy, but now I recognize one sharp distinction. Comedy benefits from a group audience, where the laughter of others encourages your own laughter. Horror probably works best on solo viewers, who feel more helpless without company. This may be especially true of haunted house films. When TC ended and the room darkened, I felt irrational chills. Mission accomplished.