If you’ve ever watched a cult horror film and thought, “This feels like a Craigslist ad gone really wrong,” then House of Abraham might just be your brand of strange. Lisa Belcher’s feature debut takes on the incredibly delicate, emotionally charged subject of suicide with the subtlety of a sledgehammer—and somehow still manages to feel emotionally hollow by the time the credits roll.
Let’s set the scene: a secluded wooded retreat, a creepy compound, and a leader named Abraham who might be one infomercial away from selling you a suicide starter pack. That’s House of Abraham in a nutshell—a film that dares to explore the pain of those who no longer wish to live but gets so wrapped up in the visual pageantry and twisted ritualism of death that it forgets to say anything meaningful about it.
Trauma at the Gates
At the heart of the film is Dee, played by Natasha Henstridge—an actress who has dipped into genre fare before (Species, anyone?). Dee’s trauma is rooted in one of the darkest kinds: she witnessed her mother’s suicide as a child. That’s a heavy weight to carry, and it’s what sets her on a path toward what she believes might be “peace.” Instead, she finds Abraham.
The film makes it clear from the get-go: this isn’t a therapeutic retreat. It’s not a support group. This is a group that’s made peace with the end—or so it claims—and has gathered to die with some twisted form of dignity. The catch? There’s a ceremony. There are rules. There are robes. And there’s Abraham, a man who could sell nihilism on QVC.
Meet the Misfits
Once Dee enters the compound, we’re introduced to the rest of the group. And this is where the movie starts to veer into caricature territory. Every character feels less like a human being and more like a checkbox on a diversity-depression spreadsheet.
- Victor (Gary Clarke): An elderly man diagnosed with a terminal illness. He’s here because he doesn’t want to suffer through a slow death. Understandable.
- Alex (Marval A. Rex): A trans man still struggling with depression, despite transitioning—a painful but unfortunately one-dimensional representation.
- Jonathan and Shannon (William Magnuson and Khali Sykes): He accidentally killed someone; she’s the girlfriend sticking by his side because…reasons?
- Pierre (Sean Freeland): Angry, abrasive, and depressed. That’s it. That’s his whole character.
The group is led by Abraham (Lukas Hassel), a man so eerily calm he gives the impression he might ask you to invest in his Ponzi scheme mid-toast. His sidekick is Beatrice (Lin Shaye), a woman who seems like she wandered in from a better-written horror movie and just decided to stay.
Death, But Make It Formal
One of the film’s big stylistic swings is the ritual that surrounds the act of suicide. It’s performed with cult-like theatrics: a ceremonial bell, a grey robe, a glass of champagne, and a toast from Abraham—“Life is not for everyone.” If that line made you roll your eyes, welcome to the viewing experience.
There’s a strange tonal dissonance here. On one hand, the film wants to explore the deep existential agony that drives people toward suicide. On the other hand, it’s presenting this with the flair of a macabre wedding ceremony. It’s hard to know whether to cry or cringe.
And the performances? Let’s just say the actors do what they can with the material, but most are trapped in roles that don’t evolve past their introductions. It’s like each character walked on screen, said, “Hi, I’m broken because of X,” and then waited for their cue to die—or not.
The Abraham Problem
Let’s talk about the man of the hour. Abraham is a contradiction in motion. He’s a supposed believer in death as an act of bravery, but his every word oozes insincerity. Hassel’s performance is actually quite effective—it’s just that the script doesn’t seem to know what to do with him.
Is he a charismatic manipulator like Charles Manson? No. Is he a true believer in death-as-liberation philosophy? Kind of. Is he just a random psychopath with a God complex? That’s where the film lands, eventually. And that’s kind of the problem. House of Abraham presents Abraham as if he’s wrapped in enigma, but by the halfway mark, you’ve probably already figured him out.
This is a recurring issue in the film. It wants you to feel like you’re uncovering something sinister—like there’s a grand twist coming. But everything is so telegraphed that when the reveal does come, it feels more like a formality than a surprise.
A Film of Surface Tension, Not Depth
Perhaps the most frustrating part of House of Abraham is that it has all the right ingredients to say something powerful. The concept of exploring suicide through the lens of cult ideology is fertile ground. But instead of diving into the emotional complexity, the film relies on shock value, ritualistic absurdity, and heavy-handed symbolism.
There’s very little subtlety here. You won’t find a nuanced character study or a quiet reflection on mental illness. What you’ll find is a collection of people waiting around to die, spouting lines that feel like they were pulled from a first-year philosophy student’s dark poetry journal.
Even Dee’s inner conflict, which should be the emotional heartbeat of the movie, is handled with a sledgehammer. We know she’s having second thoughts because the movie won’t stop showing her staring blankly at walls, wandering the compound, and sighing deeply. It’s cinematic shorthand for “She’s thinking hard,” but it wears thin fast.
Horror or Satire? The Film Doesn’t Know
At some points, House of Abraham feels like it’s teetering into satire. The rituals, the infomercial-style suicide monologues, the robe ceremony—it all feels so over-the-top that you wonder if Belcher is aiming for dark comedy. But then the tone shifts, and we’re meant to take it all seriously again.
This tonal confusion saps the movie of its power. Is it a critique of how cults exploit the vulnerable? Is it an absurdist take on how people try to find structure in chaos? Or is it just a horror movie trying to gross you out with a high-concept premise?
The movie doesn’t commit to any of those things fully, and as a result, it ends up feeling like a muddle of half-baked ideas. It’s like a stew where every ingredient was thrown in without checking whether they belonged together.
Is There Anything Worth Praising?
To give credit where it’s due: Lukas Hassel’s performance is weirdly compelling. His forced calm, his disingenuous smile, his measured delivery—it all creates a character you instinctively distrust, which works for the story, even if it doesn’t elevate it.
The set design also deserves a nod. The compound feels eerie and detached from reality, which helps build an unsettling atmosphere. Unfortunately, that tension never really pays off. There’s no true escalation, no catharsis. The story just keeps circling around the same existential toilet bowl.
Final Thoughts: Ritual Without Substance
House of Abraham wants to say something profound about suicide, trauma, cult manipulation, and the search for meaning. But instead of delivering insight, it offers a blueprint for how to make suicide seem like a group vacation gone wrong.
The tragedy here isn’t just the subject matter. It’s that the film chooses spectacle over sincerity. It could’ve been a haunting, introspective look at the human condition. Instead, it settles for ritualistic pageantry and a plot that pretends to be smarter than it is.
So what does death mean to whom? That’s the question the movie pretends to ask but never answers. All we’re left with is a bell, a robe, a glass of champagne, and a movie that toasts to nothing.
