The horror genre peaks when it takes something as pure and innocent as childhood and twists it into a more terrifying and macabre shadow of itself.Bernard Rose’sPaperhousedoes exactly this, deforming the childlike act of drawing into a conduit to a darker realm.The film taps into the purity of childhood to render a haunting dreamscape that is stripped of the clutter of realityand envelops us into a purer flavor of childlike wonder. Playing with lighting and mise en scène, we are gradually met with more sinister images that eventually lead us to the film’s final, profoundly bittersweet note. AsRoger Ebertsays, “This is not a movie to be measured and weighed and plumbed, but to be surrendered to,” allowing us to be washed away in the macabre re-imagining of what is considered to be one of life’s most innocent concepts.
Paperhouse
Paperhouse is a dark fantasy film about 11-year-old Anna, who discovers that her drawings manifest in her dreams. Confined to bed by illness, she sketches a house that becomes the setting for her dream world, where she meets a lonely, disabled boy named Marc, who also exists in reality. As Anna’s drawings grow more detailed, the dream world turns increasingly menacing, blurring the boundaries between reality and imagination in a haunting tale of creativity and connection.
‘Paperhouse’ Uses Drawings to Twist the Simplicity of Childhood
Anna (Charlotte Burke) is a thirteen-year-old girl who is diagnosed with a mysterious fever and bemoans the thought of being confined to her bed. She occupies herself with drawing a charcoal house on paper with a sad face gazing out the window. When she dreams,she is faced with the same gray-washed house from her drawing with the same despondent face looking out the window. Anna’s fate is sealed as she incredulously asks Marc (Elliot Spiers) why his house doesn’t have any stairs or why he cannot walk, marking the beginning of the lilting rhythm of Anna drawing whatever she can imagine and rushing to see the fruit of her work. Thesurreal, nightmarish filmbegins with Anna believing she has god-like powers over this world and over Marc, but when her attempt to draw legs for Marc fails, she finally realizes there are unforeseen consequences to her imagination. As such,the frenzied and simple act of drawing is turned into a dark and solemn responsibility inPaperhouse, more so as the film progresses.
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The simplistic and cyclic storyline of drawing and dreaming is also embellished by filming from Anna’s childlike perspective, enveloping us into her imaginative dreamscape and whimsy. This rhythm for the first half of the film is fittingly reminiscent of a lullaby, lulling us into her fantasies and allowing us to believe she is truly meeting a boy named Marc through her dreams, despite the adults of the film dismissing her.Rose’s straightforward approach to Anna’s story creates a sense of credibility despite the fantastical premise, especially with the contrast of Anna’s morebrief, plaintive, and straightforward dialogue, compared to her mother’s (Glenn Headley) more diplomatic, sarcastic, and adult approach. Rose gradually twists the innocence into something darker, especially as Anna learns about the consequences of her frustration and impulsive drawings that darken her dreamscape and lead to a fight for survival.
Lighting Distinguishes Dream from Reality in ‘Paperhouse’
The plot’s simplicity also translates into the visual aesthetic ofPaperhouse, especially with the strikingimage of Anna’s dreamscape. The titular house is located on windswept plains near a cliff-side that gives way to the endless sea. Only the concrete house populates the screen, with a light blue sky as the backdrop and sporadically placed stones in the foreground.This sparse and vast landscape harshly contrasts with Anna’s reality, which is far more cluttered and busy, subsequently making her dreamscape (a child’s imagination) a purer and more natural world. This scaled-back approach and almost effervescent sheen in the dream shots highlight Anna’s mind as her safe place, almost as if the film is glorifying the childlike wonder of the creative imagination. Dreams also become a childlike form of escapism and reflection, similar to the way drawing is for children.
As such, when Anna succumbs to her impulsive frustration and drags harsh black lines across her attempt at drawing her father onto the paper, Rose dims the lights in her dream world. Next time we enter this realm, the glowing camera shots are replaced with infinite darkness that is only illuminated by small pockets of light from candles or fiery cracks in the ground. Shifting from the predominant force being light to now being darkness,it is almost as if we have ventured into Anna’s subconscious. The shadowy lighting also allows reality and nightmares to interlace, particularly when Anna reaches through the boundaries to manipulate reality while still being stuck in her dream. Rose strategically useslighting techniquesto create such a distinguishing and confronting impact. Everything about the film screams simplicity, with the storyline, the visuals, the lilting soundtrack and the effects, truly proving that sometimes less is more while tying into the essence of childhood.
‘Paperhouse’ Explores the Idea of the Absent Father
Paperhousefurther insists on deforming childlike wonder through its themes, leaning into the common concern of missing a parental figure. In Anna’s case, she sorely misses her father (Ben Cross), who works in a different city to her and her mother. The beginning of the film showcases Anna’s respect and love towards her father, as she excitedly develops a photograph of him with her mother and constantly asks when he will be back. Yetshe unconsciously has misgivings abouther father’s absence, constantly grappling with the pain and despair of not knowing when he will return. Masking her worries, she scribbles out his face and realizes the consequences of her impulses when she returns to the dreamscape. Consequently, her repressed emotions twist her father into a symbolically blind aggressor in her nightmares, with scars plastered over his eyes signifying the pain of not seeing him for so long.
The idea of children’s emotions seeping into their drawings and dreams is a staple in psychoanalysis, but the film also speaks to how a child’s world differs greatly from an adult’s. The ambiguity around whether Anna’s fantasy land is real or not doesn’t necessarily matter; it is real to Anna and that should be enough. But it isthe adults' responses to Anna’s tales that become telling, as they rationally dismiss her claims as deliriums from her illness, feeding into the idea ofchildren’s mental healthoften not being taken seriously. In a way, the film also becomes a sordid coming-of-age story, as Anna learns to let go of her childhood independently.Paperhousebecomes a lyrical epitaph inscribed on the tombstone of childhood — a visually alluring piece that taps into the somber darkness you can only find in the depths of a child’s imagination.
Paperhouseis available to watch on Prime Video in the U.S.
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