2024
You may recall how I was just lamenting the scarcity of “old apartment horror” while reviewing Apartment 7A? Well, after maybe the hundredth reminder about a certain film from a patient friend on social media (I swear I have some kind of mental block about this movie), I finally sat down to watch The Sentinel (1977).
Well, guess what? That mental block existed because I had already seen the film! I read the Jeffrey Konvitz novel several years back, and I must have immediately rented the DVD by mail through Netflix back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. No wonder I was resisting the idea of watching it; by my 31 Days of Horror rules, I have to watch/read/whatever things I have never watched/read/whatevered before.
[EDIT: in the course of writing this, I discovered that there is actually a sequel to this novel! But then I read Grady Hendrix’s review, and I’m good. I don’t need to read it.]
Anyway, I did watch it, and I maintain that it still counts because I obviously didn’t remember much about it from the first time around! Here’s the gist: The Sentinel follows Alison Parker (Cristina Raines), a gorgeous, constantly booked fashion model who, rather than marry Prince Humperdinck, moves into a creepy old building full of weirdos, and which is perched over a Hellmouth!
Ok, I guess that’s not quite the whole thing. Alison loves her doting lawyer boyfriend (Chris Sarandon), but she isn’t ready for that kind of commitment! So she goes out looking for a new place to live and snags what seems like the deal of the century: a gorgeous Brooklyn Heights apartment in a stunning old building. The kind of place that makes you wonder how anyone at all could afford it, especially a shampoo model in 1977. As an aside, as Alison and her friend were checking out apartments, they would exclaim at the outrageous rent prices– one place, for example, being $600 a month. LORDY BE. $600 for a 2-bedroom apartment in Manhattan!
Of course, as with all suspiciously good deals in horror movies, apartments, or otherwise, there’s a catch. The building has a collection of eccentric, intrusive, lecherous neighbors that would make the Bramford residents seem tame by comparison. And there’s also a mysterious blind priest who spends his days sitting at a window, just being weird and creepy in general.
The Sentinel weaves together Catholic religious horror with all the unsettling elements that make old urban architecture so perfect for fear – the weight of history in every creaking floorboard, the sense of being surrounded yet isolated, and the peculiar way that beautiful old buildings can shift from grandeur to menace when darkness falls. The building itself becomes a character, with its ornate moldings and shadowy corridors hiding secrets that feel ancient and malevolent. The film also features one of those incredible 1970s ensemble casts that only this era could provide: Ava Gardner, Burgess Meredith, Chris Sarandon, Christopher Walken, Jeff Goldblum, Jerry Orbach, and Beverly D’Angelo, among others. It’s the kind of lineup that makes you realize just how many legendary actors were working in horror during this period. Or how many of them stumbled onto a set? I don’t know how it works.
A bit of a warning – the finale goes places. Like, PLACES places. Without spoiling too much, let’s just say it makes some bold choices about using actual carnival performers that would definitely not be okay today. But if you can get past that (significantly offensive and exploitative) issue, there’s something fascinating about how the film combines Catholic mythology with urban isolation and the particular anxieties of being a young woman living alone in the city.
Speaking of young women living alone in threatening urban spaces, watching The Sentinel sent me down a rabbit hole of other apartment horror films. A Threads user reminded me that there’s Hideo Nakata’s Dark Water (2002), where a single mother and her daughter confront the creeping dread of a decaying apartment complex. The Japanese original captures that same sense of urban isolation that The Sentinel does so well, though its horror emerges from the crushing weight of poverty and abandonment rather than religious dread. Even the American remake maintains this atmosphere, thanks to its brilliant use of Roosevelt Island – that strange slice of New York caught between boroughs, where the abandoned smallpox hospital still looms, and the tram ride is said to feel like crossing over into another world entirely.
Then there’s Candyman and Cabrini-Green – probably the most powerful example of apartment horror I can think of. Those towering concrete structures tell us everything we need to know about urban decay and racial segregation, while the endless corridors and institutional neglect create perfect conditions for both supernatural and social horrors to take root. Looking at all these films together, I’m struck by how they work from opposite ends of the urban experience – from the ornate luxury of the Bramford and The Sentinel’s Brooklyn Heights brownstone to the institutional decay of Dark Water‘s complex and Cabrini-Green. But whether the walls are covered in elegant molding or crumbling concrete, these films tap into the same fears: that strange loneliness of being surrounded by people but completely cut off, those walls that promise safety but might just be keeping you trapped. They understand something essential about city living – about how our homes can turn strange and threatening, in ways that are sometimes supernatural, but often all too real.
Since posting about apartment horror on social media, people have been sharing their own suggestions. Archive 81 definitely fits – the way that series uses its apartment building’s architecture and history is fascinating, while also scratching that itch I have for stories about obsessive archivists and haunted media. The Strange Color of Your Body’s Tears, Shivers, and No One Gets Out Alive are all in there too, though I’ll admit while I have watched the first two, they’ve all gone a bit fuzzy in my memory, and the third I don’t know anything about at all other than it may be based on something Adam Neville wrote. Clearly, there’s more to explore in this corner of horror than I initially thought.
AND just as I am wrapping up, I saw a long-time commenter and friend of the blog mentioned POSSESSION in terms of apartment horror…how could I have forgotten that one? They also reminded me of certain things that occur in that movie, so no wonder Sam Neill subconsciously came to mind for my gender-swapped devil baby pregnancy that I mentioned yesterday, ha ha!
Day Twenty-Three of 31 Days Of Horror in years past: 2023 // 2022 // 2021
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