Brooklyn 45‘s Postwar Seance Makes a Classic Horror Set-Up Personal

If you want proof of the endless creativity present in the horror genre, look no further than the single-location scary movie. For decades, our finest horror filmmakers have zeroed on a haunted mansion, a lonely cabin, or even a single room to tell stories that strip bare the characters contained within them, and reveal something haunting not just about the people on screen, but the people watching on the other side. At their best, these films are feats of tremendous logistical, budgetary and narrative imagination, sometimes even more than their scaled-up horror contemporaries.
It’s not surprising that Ted Geoghegan knows exactly how to deliver on this kind of film, at least not if you’re familiar with his previous supernatural horror film, the remarkable We Are Still Here. That film, while not a single-location story, made excellent use of intimate surroundings and a small cast to tell a moving, frightening story of grief, regret and the ever-present past. Brooklyn 45 allows Geoghegan to return to familiar themes and a stripped-down narrative scaffolding, while delivering something very different from his past horror success. A period piece that’s part locked-room mystery, part ghost story and all showcase for a glorious ensemble of character actors, it’s another triumph of single-location horror storytelling—and proof that Geoghegan has only just begun to show us what he can do.
As the title suggests, the film opens in Brooklyn on a December night in 1945. World War II is over, but the wounds of that great struggle are still very fresh, particularly in the hearts and minds of the five people who’ve just gathered in a beautiful brownstone for a bittersweet reunion. Longtime friends Marla (Anne Ramsay), Hock (Larry Fessenden), Archie (Jeremy Holm), Paul (Ezra Buzzington), and Marla’s husband Bob (Ron E. Rains) all carry scars of the war as they enter Hock’s elegant parlor, but what they don’t yet know is how deep those cuts really run.
Through a solidly laid few minutes of table-setting and reminiscing, we learn that Hock is still mourning the loss of his wife, who committed suicide a month earlier amid paranoia about Nazi spies living next door. It’s the freshest piece of trauma, but it’s not the only one: Marla is still adjusting to a quiet life of government service after years as a Nazi interrogator, Archie is facing war crime charges for something he may or may not have done, and Paul is still so devoted to his own military bluster that all the whiskey in the world can’t calm him down. It’s in the midst of these very personal shadows—shadows cast by four years of fighting across two different oceans—that Hock explains why he’s summoned them all for this reunion. Once a towering military leader and the glue of their friend group, Hock has been reduced to a grief-riddled mess, diving into texts on communicating with the dead as a way to cope with the loss of his wife. With these ideas in his head, and his ride-or-die inner circle gathered around him, he proposes a simple ritual to try and gain some peace: Lock the parlor doors, hold a séance and try to contact his wife.