A chilling horror story, whether on the page, the screen, or whispered in the dark, often hinges on the haunting power of architecture to evoke fear. Iconic settings like the Bates Mansion in Psycho or the Overlook Hotel in The Shining are characters that breathe and seethe, embodying both real and imagined terrors. These eerie spaces–masterfully brought to life by writers Robert Bloch and Stephen King alongside directors Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick– are psychologically charged buildings that anchor us in fear, showing how architecture can be both a silent witness and an active participant in horror.
I recently caught the premiere of Alien: Romulus in a packed theater—the ultimate way to dive into a horror film. Directed by Fede Álvarez and co-written with Rodo Sayagues, the movie delivers a visceral experience filled with nods to classic Alien moments, while also paying homage to iconic scenes from Jurassic Park (1993) and The Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978). Amid the spine-chilling screams, floating blobs of acidic blood, and the ever-looming fear of the unknown, I noticed a striking pattern: this new film followed the well-worn path of the classic haunted house genre, with the monster-infested space station Renaissance acting as the fraternal twin to the Gothic horror of author Shirley Jackson’s Hill House. Both settings—and their stories—masterfully unsettle their inhabitants and, by extension, us in the audience.
Rain Carradine, the protagonist in Alien: Romulus is drawn to the derelict space station Renaissance for a treasure that could fund her escape from a life unfulfilled. She ventures into the realm of the uncanny just as surely as Jackson’s main character Eleanor Vance falls into the clutches of Hill House. Both women, along with their unlikely cohorts, risk everything in their pursuit of freedom. Unfortunately, the path towards liberation leads them into a deadly maze filled with malicious spirits, monstrous entities, and the clawing fingers of the past.
In The Haunting of Hill House and Alien: Romulus, the uncanny plays a significant role. The labyrinthine corridors of the spaceship Renaissance mirror the hallways and ballrooms of Hill House, with its disorienting architecture, odd angles, hidden rooms, and oppressive atmosphere. These spaces are designed to confuse, trap, and ultimately terrify those within them. The uncanny—the sensation where the familiar becomes terrifyingly strange—permeates both films. The audience is left in a state of constant tension, never quite sure what might lurk around the next corner: a ghost in a shadowy hallway or an alien creature in the darkened bowels of the ship.
Both Hill House and the space station Renaissance transcend their roles as mere settings; they become living entities. Hill House is described as being “born bad,” its malevolent presence actively preying on its inhabitants. The Renaissance functions similarly; its dark, metallic corridors pulsate with a terrifying, organic life, harboring unspeakable horrors that challenge the characters’ sanity and survival.
The architectural parallels between The Haunting of Hill House and the space station in Alien: Romulus underscore a key truth: whether rooted in Gothic tradition or the uncharted reaches of space, certain environments have the power to evoke profound emotional responses. These structures shape the narrative, mold the characters’ experiences, and guide the audience’s reactions. As we continue to explore the architecture of fear, it’s clear that whether we are dealing with a haunted mansion or a malevolent spaceship, the spaces we inhabit—and the ones that inhabit us—will always have the power to haunt our nightmares.
