THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

Jack Ketchum is a historian of pain and violence, tempting readers into the tragic underbelly of human depravity with a lean, straight-forward style and keen understanding of the inhuman human condition. Throughout his controversial career, he has brought readers to unsuspected extremities of terror by showing them . . . nothing less than themselves.

Perhaps his most horrifying novel is also his most honest. The Girl Next Door peels back the polite surface exterior of societal convention - morality, love, justice -- and reveals the vulnerable underbelly. Provoking outrage when it was published, the novel remains one of the most unsettling ever committed to page. Particularly troubling is its basis in a factual crime. The mean spirited terror of the story is retained with surprising clarity in the screen adaptation, as are both the ultimate pathos and emotionally draining pain of not only the events but the 'everyday' type of characters who commit them. Writers Philip Nutman and Danniel Ferrands inject intelligence and empathy into very troublesome subject mater, unearthing human vulnerability and viciousness.

The Girl Next Door is a study of culpability, violence, and misplaced authority, all of which spiral out of control in a seemingly innocent suburban town environment whose rustic appeal maximizes the horror going on behind closed doors. Ruth Chandler is a morally lax, fun and attractive neighborhood mother. Raising two boys of her own, she is a magnet for the other children, especially those bordering on young adulthood. Something of both a mother-figure and erotic poster girl on which to hang their adolescent wet dreams, she exerts a strange control. The lax attitude she shows towards her young charges, ranging from sexually provocative innuendos to beer drinking, soon leads to something more sinister. When Ruth's nieces, Meg and Susan Loughlin, are sent to live with her, Ruth immediately exposes a darker side of her personality. Physical and mental abuse are followed by some of the most disturbing moments of torture ever depicted. Throughout escalating mistreatment, Ruth convinces her own children -- and those in the neighborhood -- that the girls deserve their cruel treatment. The suffering and wholesomeness of the girls, particularly Meg, awaken an unreasoning hatred in Ruth, who is convinced that Meg is a slut. Things get even worse when the other children become willing assistants in the torture. David, the one weak light in the whole affair, is torn between conscience and fascination. Will he do anything to stop it before rape and brutal violence become murder?

The Girl Next Door wants to hurt us. That such unthinking violence could occur next door is disturbing enough. That the wholesale torment and slaughter of an innocent victim could infect others is sickening. And this may be where the film and script achieve the most success. The events, the characters, the lack of any believable reason for this travesty could come from today's headlines, reeking with the carrion stench of insanity that embroils our culture. Both the writers and director carefully push us to the shattering climax, wasting no opportunity to wring emotional effect from the descent of madness weaving itself around everyone involved.

Like Ketchum's fiction, the story refuses to blink from the worst that can happen. Instead we're forced to stare wide eyed at horrible psychological and physical abuse. Violence is brutal, betrayal devastating, and the believability of the characters force us to confront a world where our own hearts are as treacherous as leering strangers. Worse yet, and one of the greatest achievements of this film, is the suggestion that all those people and institutions we are taught to trust from birth on are, at heart, either ineffectual when most needed or, at worst, misleading predators. This isn't a popcorn movie so don't expect to get chummy with your date afterwards (and if she wants to, run!). Every dirty shame of human nature is touted out for our disgust and pity. Every humiliation. Each horrid act of senseless carnage, petty revenge, soul-shrinking terror or animal lust. At heart is the thematic conflict between 'this feels good' and 'this is going to hurt someone else.'

A twisted coming of age story reduced to its barest elements, the central character, a boy easy to like and sympathize with, struggles with guilt and his own desires. Moral conflict is the heart of the film, and while physical torment is emphasized with harsh realism, the consequence of pain - both receiving it and giving it -- is stressed as well. Pain is a central character in and of itself, revealed as debilitating and cannibalistic, eating itself (and those who use it as a weapon).

Anchor Bay treats this sordid if thoughtful shocker with the respect it deserves. The picture is presented in anamorphic widescreen in a transfer of 1.78:1. The picture is sharp and clean, the colors lustrous, ranging from soft nostalgia hued exteriors to broodingly dark moments. Audio is featured in Dolby Surround 5.1 and 2.0. Both tracks are free from major distortion, evenly balancing score and dialogue.

Extras are informative and generous here, including two above average commentaries, the first of which featuring director Gregory M. Wilson, producer Andrew van den Houten and cinematographer Miller. Some of the more engaging topics include how they approached the terrible subject mater with sensitivity, particularly when dealing with the younger cast members. The director's methods for sustaining suspense are also breached, as are some of the challenges encountered on set. The second commentary is less serious in tone but just as informative, featuring Ketchum, Farrands, and Nutman. It is evident the dedication and hard work that each three put into this (something of a dream project), yet for all this, it is just as evident that neither three of the gentlemen are completely satisfied. Next up is "The Making of the Girl Next Door," which covers the efforts of cast and crew, covering various angles of the production. This is followed by "Interviews with Cast and Crew," a featurette too short to be of any substantial worth. A Trailer and Screenplay round out this disturbing effort.

Review by William Simmons