Ari Aster doesn’t play nice. Toni Collette’s family spirals after grandma dies, uncovering cult madness in their creepy treehouse. No jump scares, just slow-burn grief exploding into decapitations and possession. Collette’s unhinged performance deserved every award. The house isn’t haunted by ghosts. It’s cursed by pain and hits differently, especially if you’ve lost someone.
These movies span generations but all capture why haunted houses terrify: they invade safe spaces. Next stormy night, fire up one. Just don’t watch alone
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