But there’s something existentially soul-dead to the over-all enterprise it has corn syrup in its veins instead of blood. The opening episodes of this interpretation of Shirley Jackson’s classic gothic-horror story were promisingly eerie, all shadows and inky blacks, and I crossed my fingers for something satisfying-a stylishly directed Halloween binge-watch, with a few decent jump scares. When I hit play on Netflix’s adaptation of “The Haunting of Hill House,” I didn’t expect to end up rooting for the house.
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