The Best Horror a Dollar Store Can Provide

Nigel Bach, writer/director, Bad Ben

Fat, happy Tom Riley thinks he’s scored a major coup: an enormous suburban New Jersey house, scored at fire-sale prices. He expects to flip the property for a profit, though his plans appear vague. The house has other goals, though, including isolating him from the basement, and punishing him if he wanders past the fenceline, which borders on the Pine Barrens. When he disobeys the house, he finds something he didn’t expect: a small, shallow grave.

First-time auteur Nigel Bach apparently shot this movie entirely by the seat of his pants. He had a beat sheet, but no script, and his all-volunteer crew dropped out right before shooting. He uses a found-footage style that excuses the low-res image that comes from shooting over half the movie on his iPhone. This movie could’ve descended into irredeemable silliness, but Bach avoids that outcome by embracing his shaky, amateurish side and having fun.

Tom has a distinctly ambivalent relationship with his house. He lives in it during the renovation, even sleeping in the previous owners’ armchair. But he mocks and disparages the former owners, especially their displays of overt religiosity, and he throws their family Bible in the trash, thinking religious displays will hurt resale value. He’s especially baffled that the previous owners vacated the premises so quickly that they left all their furniture. Seriously, who does that?

Another thing Tom can’t understand: what’s with the dozens of security cameras? Every room but the bathroom has motion-sensor cameras, providing constant, digital surveillance of everything that happens. It’s almost like the previous owners distrusted their own house. But as furniture starts moving itself, blocking his access to the basement, he starts wondering whether having thorough documentation might help. Because something has a message for him, if he can figure it out.

If this sounds very Amityville Horror, you’re right. Like that movie’s George Lutz, Tom buys a house, but quickly realizes it owns him. The implications are distinctly Freudian, and Ben, the spirit plaguing Tom’s house, represents a manifestation of suburban home-owning id. This representation isn’t even concealed, as much of Tom’s investigation turns on his basement and attic. Secrets lie concealed in the parts of the house that everyone has, but avoids ever looking at.

This film mimics the beat sheet of The Blair Witch Project, a film I disliked. Yet I feel much more warmly toward Nigel Bach and his production. Maybe it’s because he didn’t court the same puffed-up publicity that Artisan Entertainment sought; Bach just released this shoestring baby to streaming services and trusted the audience. Or maybe it’s because Bach, and his character Tom Riley, aren’t so damned self-serious; they understand their situation is campy, and go with it.

Tom Riley (Nigel Bach) checks his security cameras in Bad Ben

Let me emphasize that campy aspect. It’s impossible to escape this movie’s goofy, low-budget quality. Besides Tom Riley, the only onscreen character is a poorly glimpsed shadow in a few shots. To provide exposition, Tom occasionally talks into his cell-phone, and keeps extensive iPhone video logs. He lampshades how artificial this is, admitting his actions make no sense. But we, the audience, understand the purpose: he doesn’t realize he’s a character in a shoestring movie.

Playing Tom, extemporizing his terse, impatient monologues, Nigel Bach is clearly having so much fun that he visibly has difficulty keeping a straight face. Unlike Heather Donohue, who needed in-story justification to explain weeping into the camera, Bach plays Tom with eye-rolling extravagance. To Bach, this movie is a middle-age passion project, a fun activity to occupy spare time, like retooling a Volkswagen. He has no pretense of art or commerciality, he’s just having fun.

Importantly, Bach’s attitude has infected his audience. Despite being only lightly scary, his infectious joy has turned this movie into a veritable indie enterprise. He’s crowdfunded six sequels, none of which has had an official release, instead shuffling straight to streaming with minimal fanfare. Horror movie fans have embraced his low-fi, mostly bloodless camp, and paid for more. Maybe we like Bach’s themes of suburban ennui. Maybe we’re having as much fun as he is.

Don’t enter this movie expecting jolting scares or blood-curdling terror. Though Bach cultivates nagging dread, and two or three well-placed jump scares, this movie mostly isn’t some unstopping chill-fest. Rather, it’s an experiment in narrative, an attempt to recreate a legitimate moviegoing experience with a cash-on-hand budget. It’s flamboyant, artificial, and sometimes stilted. It’s also just plain fun. Nigel Bach invites us on his passion project, and at the end, we’re glad we came along.