A wooded retreat is anything but leisurely in Lisa Belcher’s feature debut, “House of Abraham.” Dee (Natasha Henstridge) is traumatized by witnessing the suicide of her mother as a young girl. Looking for the most permanent escape herself, she scours the dark web, finding a cult that promises to hold her hand through the process.
The group is led by the psychopathic and eerily non-charismatic suicide connoisseur Abraham (Lukas Hassel) and his faithful assistant Beatrice (Lin Shaye). Dee is welcomed into a home filled with others seeking to do the same: Victor (Gary Clarke), an elderly man with a fatal diagnosis; Alex (Marval A. Rex), a trans man whose depression did not subside on account of his transition; Jonathan (William Magnuson) and Shannon (Khali Sykes), a grieving young man guilty of an accidental violent crime, and his faithful girlfriend, and Pierre (Sean Freeland), a man made angry and abrasive through his own depression. But by account of Dee’s conflict with her arrival, and the sense that things may be even darker than they seem on Abraham’s compound, “House of Abraham” attempts to dissect what death means to whom.
The film falls victim to the subtlety of a ten-car pile-up. Neither the characters, all archetypal, nor the sequencing of the story, choppy and ham-fisted, inspire any engagement in its subject matter. There’s not much to find under the surface of suicide tutorials delivered with infomercial-style cadences, and Belcher’s film relies heavily on the disturbing nature of its blatancy. Much of the film’s runtime points to Dee’s uncertainties, letting us know far in advance of its quite ridiculous twist that something is amiss. The obviousness of it all inspires no tension, only impatience.
When he welcomes the group to the home, he explains the rules of their eventual suicides. They’re granted the ability to pick their method. Still, once selected, they must record their consent to their departure, ring a ceremonial bell, don a ritualistic grey robe, and proceed with the plan after cheering with champagne. Abraham will then sign off on their deaths with a toast, “Life is not for everyone.” And so, “House of Abraham” is a cult-parody at best and a slop of a horror film at worst.
Hassel’s performance is the most striking of the bunch on behalf of his forced calm, which, benefiting the role, reads as entirely disingenuous. This adds to the film’s attempt at mystery: If Abraham believes suicide is an act of bravery, why does he sound so full of shit when he says it? Unfortunately, Belcher’s proposal stops there, as it’s clear he is simply a psychopath at work. Just like Hassel’s cult leader, “House of Abraham” delivers its rites with a hollow center.
