The set-up of The Orphanage, a gothic horror chiller from Spain, follows many standard gothic tropes of character, place and atmosphere: a woman returning to her childhood home unearthing lost secrets from the past; a defunct lighthouse sitting atop a dark cave on a beach; doors windows and playground rides shutting and moving on their own volition; a young boy with imaginary (or ghostly) friends; and a menacing child hidden under a burlap sack (OK, that may not be a classic Gothic trope, but it should be). The bumps in the night and the jarring misdirection scares are aptly played here and the execution is familiar but refreshingly unpredictable (refreshing in that it doesn’t rely on gimmicky twists). In fact, The Orphanage is matter-of-factly straightforward: Laura, an adopted orphan returns to her orphanage as an adult with her husband, Carlos, and son, Simón, to re-open it as a home assisting children. Her son quickly makes friends with children not seen by anyone. Then, during an event on the grounds of the orphanage, Simón disappears. Laura spends the rest of the film investigating what happened to Simón and the spooky circumstances behind it. The power exists in how many scenes from the first half are mirrored in the second: a flashback to a childhood game at the orphanage morphs into an act of desperation; Laura’s motherly interactions with her son become vital memories as she closes in on the mystery.
What truly drives this movie is the focus on Laura. Many scary movies get lost in the plot of supernatural malfeasance and how characters are affected. The Orphanage, however, focuses on how Laura deals with these possible otherworldly circumstances. A new level of psychological allegory is revealed that sends a shudder down the spine better than any shutting door or creaking seesaw. Highly Recommended.
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