When Shirin (Dylan Gwyn) and Fredrik (Linus Walgren) move in and buy a charming semi-detached house on the outskirts of town. They casually pay attention to the general renovation of the uninhabited neighbouring block because otherwise. Their new home is precisely what they need.
Cancer takes Frederick’s first wife, and Shirin wants to cultivate a sense of kinship with him and his young son, Lucas (Eddie Erickson Dominguez). She is troubled by feeling like an outsider, or worse, a past-life swindler of her husband and mother.
Great movie, and the setup is going well. Fredrik tried to assemble various IKEA household items, but he was soon reinstated as construction project manager. Fredrick would leave on weekdays while Shirin stayed home to watch Lucas. It is sure to start over.
Growling, blooming and various other annoying sounds.
The closet door opened by itself, then a figure emerged from the darkness in the corner of Lucas’ room. This house is already emitting spiritual vibrations, and it’s only been a week. And then Shirin found a closed hatch leading to the attic that led through the hut to the next unit.
It’s not scary at all, no. Lucas starts talking to a new, unseen friend, and Shirin can’t convince Frederick to worry – he’s not even sure if he’s worried. He’s just worried. Lucas asks them if the dead can come back – it’s about his new “friend,” of course, but with a childish feeling that the answer might apply to his dead mother.
“No boys live next door!” Shirn said to Lucas, but he swore and was dizzy and scared at the same time. There was also a gaping hole in the living room floorboard.
When Shirin finally crawls through the attic and down into the darkness of a dilapidated neighbouring block, she discovers that this journey has led to something else. What destroyed the previous owners of Shirin and Fredrik’s house? And what about children and their ability to connect with the spirit world? Left alone in this new house, Shirin must defend Lucas and find her proper place.
You know what happened there, don’t you?”
It’s a line presented in the middle of The Evil Next Door by a character we’ll never see again. But one that’s guaranteed to emerge from the film’s opening notes. As Shirin and Fredrik’s duplex purchase photo depicts their screaming closeness. For full hunch. So often, there were magical places at the end of lonely roads or darkened behind thickets of thorny vines. That they could hide from view.
But in the case of Shirin and Fredrik. Their house shares a wall with the evil one. And every neighbour in a small part of the Scandinavian homeland. It knows a story their agents forgot to share with them. Do you remember the horrors of Amityville? Agents James Brolin and Margo Kidder didn’t feel the need to tell them. About the man who killed his entire family. In the messy old house, they were about to buy.
While the explosion of supernatural activity is filled with tension from time to time. The atmosphere that The Evil Next Door radiates the most is a sense of Scandinavian serenity. That is brimming with the spatial threat. The neat living quarters of Shirin and Fredrik’s house take a dangerous turn.
When a con artist arrives, and the gifts and feelings of escape. This new home represents are shattered into an oasis of fear and strife. In this elegant way, The Evil Next Door rediscovers a trope with haunted houses. Though the film is primarily based on the principles of the established horror tradition.
The Evil Next Door makes excellent use of the Scandinavian setting to tell the story of the haunted house. And graveyard and the unhappy family that lives with them.