After a family trip to Disneyland last year, my daughter told me that her favorite ride was the Haunted Mansion. It's long been a favorite of mine, too, an oasis of spooky-silly fun at the so-called Happiest Place on Earth. Given how popular the ride has been since it opened in 1969, it's perhaps unsurprising that it's inspired not one but two live-action Disney movies. Neither movie is particularly good, although the new one, directed by Justin Simien of Dear White People fame, is at least an improvement on the dreadful Eddie Murphy vehicle from 2003.

The always excellent LaKeith Stanfield stars as a moody physicist with an interest in the paranormal. He's one of a team of amateur ghostbusters investigating the weird goings-on at a manor house not far from New Orleans. Rosario Dawson plays a doctor who's recently moved into the house with her 9-year-old son. And there's Owen Wilson as a shifty priest, Danny DeVito as a cranky professor and Tiffany Haddish as a bumbling psychic.

Haunted Mansion has a busy, forgettable plot that exists mainly to set up all the macabre sight gags you might remember from the ride: the walking suit of armor, the self-playing pipe organ, the walls and paintings that mysteriously stretch like taffy.

None of this is even remotely scary, or meant to be scary, which is fine. It's more bothersome that none of it is especially funny, either. And while the house is an impressive piece of cobwebs-and-candlesticks production design, Simien hasn't figured out how to make it feel genuinely atmospheric.

The movie's saving grace is Stanfield's affecting performance as a guy whose interest in the supernatural turns out to be rooted in personal loss. I don't want to oversell this movie by suggesting that at heart it's a story of grief, but Stanfield is the one thing about it that's still haunting me days later.

If you're looking for a much, much scarier movie about how grief can open a portal between the living and the dead, the new Australian shocker Talk to Me is in select theaters this week. A critical favorite at this year's Sundance Film Festival, it stars the superb newcomer Sophie Wilde as Mia, an outgoing teenager who's recently lost her mom.

One night at a party with her friends, Mia gets sucked into a daredevil game involving a severed hand, embalmed and encased in ceramic. This hand apparently once belonged to a mystic. Anyone who grips it and says "Talk to me" can conjure the spirit of a dead person and invite it to possess their body — but only for 90 seconds, max. Any longer than that, and the spirit might want to stay.

The possession scenes are terrifically creepy, all dilated pupils and ghoulish makeup. But it's even creepier to see the effect of this game on Mia and her friends, as they start filming each other in their demonic state and posting the videos on social media. Talk to Me is the first feature directed by Danny and Michael Philippou, twin brothers who got their start making horror-comedy shorts for YouTube, and they've hit on a clever idea in turning this paranormal activity into a kind of recreational drug. But the high wears off very fast one night, when one of the spirits they're talking to claims to be Mia's mother — a development that leaves Mia reeling and turns this party game into a full-blown nightmare.

As a visceral piece of horror filmmaking, Talk to Me can be ruthlessly effective; even on a second viewing, there were scenes I could only watch through my fingers. The Philippou brothers have a polished sense of craft, though they're not always in control of their narrative, which sometimes falters as Mia herself begins to unravel. But Wilde's performance more than picks up the slack. She makes a great scream queen, but she also pinpoints the emotional desperation of someone held captive by grief. The movie takes something most of us can relate to — what it means to lose someone you love — and pushes it to its most twisted conclusion.

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Transcript

TONYA MOSLEY, HOST:

This is FRESH AIR. This week is the release of "Haunted Mansion," a new live-action comedy based on the popular Disneyland ride, and "Talk To Me," an Australian supernatural thriller about teenagers dabbling in the occult. Our film critic Justin Chang says that despite their differences, both movies are fundamentally about characters trying to ease their grief by communing with the dead. Here's his review.

JUSTIN CHANG, BYLINE: After a family trip to Disneyland last year, my daughter told me that her favorite ride was the Haunted Mansion. It's long been a favorite of mine, too - an oasis of spooky, silly fun at the so-called happiest place on earth. Given how popular the ride has been since it opened in 1969, it's perhaps unsurprising that it's inspired not one, but two live-action Disney movies. Neither movie is particularly good, although the new one, directed by Justin Simien of "Dear White People" fame, is at least an improvement on the dreadful Eddie Murphy vehicle from 2003.

The always-excellent LaKeith Stanfield stars as a moody physicist with an interest in the paranormal. He's one of a team of amateur ghostbusters investigating the weird goings-on at a manor house not far from New Orleans. Rosario Dawson plays a doctor who's recently moved into the house with her 9-year-old son. And there's Owen Wilson as a shifty priest, Danny DeVito as a cranky professor and Tiffany Haddish as a bumbling psychic. In this scene, she talks about the dangers of confronting the evil spirit in their midst.

(SOUNDBITE OF FILM, "HAUNTED MANSION")

TIFFANY HADDISH: (As Harriet) And let me tell you, it will fight back. Ghosts like to fight. For example, 1813 - a group of mediums went into the house just a little north of here. It took 21 days. They worked their butts off, and they got that deceased owner out of there. But they were all found - how old are you?

CHASE W DILLON: (As Travis) Nine.

HADDISH: (As Harriet) OK. I'm talking organs on the outside.

LAKEITH STANFIELD: (As Ben) Oh, come on.

ROSARIO DAWSON: (As Gabbie) Nine is young.

HADDISH: (As Harriet) It's not that young, girl. I was driving by 9. Look, I know that might have been an extreme example.

DAWSON: (As Gabbie) Yes.

HADDISH: (As Harriet) But they were a group of amateurs. I am a professional, OK? I'm bona fide and qualified, certified. And I can get rid of what died.

CHANG: "Haunted Mansion" has a busy, forgettable plot that exists mainly to set up all the macabre sight gags you might remember from the ride - the walking suit of armor, the self-playing pipe organ, the walls and paintings that mysteriously stretch like taffy. None of this is even remotely scary or meant to be scary, which is fine. It's more bothersome that none of it is especially funny either. And while the house is an impressive piece of cobwebs-and-candlesticks production design, Simien hasn't figured out how to make it feel genuinely atmospheric.

The movie's saving grace is Stanfield's affecting performance as a guy whose interest in the supernatural turns out to be rooted in personal loss. I don't want to oversell this movie by suggesting that at heart it's a story of grief. But Stanfield is the one thing about it that's still haunting me days later.

If you're looking for a much, much scarier movie about how grief can open a portal between the living and the dead, the new Australian shocker "Talk To Me" is in select theaters this week. A critical favorite at this year's Sundance Film Festival, it stars the superb newcomer Sophie Wilde as Mia, an outgoing teenager who's recently lost her mom. One night at a party with her friends, she gets sucked into a daredevil game involving a severed hand embalmed and encased in ceramic. This hand apparently once belonged to a mystic. Anyone who grips it and says, talk to me, can conjure the spirit of a dead person and invite it to possess their body, but only for 90 seconds max. Any longer than that, and the spirit might want to stay. The possession scenes are terrifically creepy, all dilated pupils and ghoulish makeup, but it's even creepier to see the effect of this game on Mia and her friends as they start filming each other in their demonic state and posting the videos on social media.

"Talk To Me" is the first feature directed by Danny and Michael Philippou, twin brothers who got their start making horror-comedy shorts for YouTube. And they've hit on a clever idea in turning this paranormal activity into a kind of recreational drug. But the high wears off very fast one night when one of the spirits they're talking to claims to be Mia's mother, a development that leaves Mia reeling and turns this party game into a full-blown nightmare.

As a visceral piece of horror filmmaking, "Talk To Me" can be ruthlessly effective. Even on a second viewing, there were scenes I could only watch through my fingers. The Philippou brothers have a polished sense of craft, though they're not always in control of their narrative, which sometimes falters as Mia herself begins to unravel. But Wilde's performance more than picks up the slack. She makes a great scream queen, but she also pinpoints the emotional desperation of someone held captive by grief. The movie takes something most of us can relate to - what it means to lose someone you love - and pushes it to its most twisted conclusion.

MOSLEY: Justin Chang is the film critic for the LA Times. On Monday's show, comedian Leanne Morgan. After discovering her passion for stand-up later in life and finding the time after raising her kids to pursue it, Tennessee native Leanne Morgan has found success by making fun of everyday life, from motherhood and marriage to menopause and her friends over 50 dating on the apps. Morgan has a self-produced comedy special on Netflix called "I'm Every Woman." I hope you can join us.

(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)

MOSLEY: To keep up with what's on the show and to get highlights of our interviews, follow us on Instagram at @nprfreshair. FRESH AIR's executive producer is Danny Miller. Our senior producer today is Roberta Shorrock. Our technical director and engineer is Audrey Bentham with additional engineering support from Joyce Lieberman, Julian Herzfeld and Charlie Kaier. Our interviews and reviews are produced and edited by Amy Salit, Phyllis Myers, Sam Briger, Lauren Krenzel, Heidi Saman, Therese Madden, Ann Marie Baldonado, Thea Chaloner, Seth Kelley and Susan Nyakundi. Our digital media producer is Molly Seavy-Nesper. For Terry Gross, I'm Tonya Mosley. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

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