The THING about Films
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The THING about Films
Why Insidious Is So Scary: The Further, Demon Design & Those Jump Scares
In this episode, Ambrose and Kelly astral project straight into Insidious (2011) and break down how James Wan and Leigh Whannell reinvented the modern jump scare with almost no gore and a tiny budget. They dig into the “quiet creative desperation” that pushed the Saw duo back to their indie roots and turned a low-budget ghost story into a box office monster.
You’ll hear how Insidious pulled in nearly 100 million on a shoestring, why that 66.6x budget ratio is horror-movie perfect, and how “The Further” flips the haunted house trope into something way more personal and psychological. The hosts unpack the Lipstick-Face Demon, the Bride in Black, puppet imagery, red doors, and all the sneaky background scares hiding in plain sight.
From Giallo-inspired color and inverted camera shots to Joseph Bishara’s atonal “rusted piano” score and the no-fake-jump-scares rule, Ambrose and Kelly show how every technical choice is designed to mess with your nerves. Then it is down into the Critic’s Crypt for final ratings, a debate over whether the demon is terrifying or just over-contoured, and a sprint away from a mysteriously opening red door.
In this episode:
- Escaping the shadow of Saw and returning to low-budget control
- How Insidious redefined PG-13 jump scares without relying on gore
- The mythology of The Further, astral projection, and generational curses
- Lipstick-Face Demon, the Bride in Black, and all those creepy puppets
- Giallo colors, red doors, and Wan’s love of inverted, spiraling shots
- Joseph Bishara’s atonal score, rusted piano sound design, and “no fake jump scares” rule
- Cast, crew, kid-actor horror stories, and on-set Easter eggs
- Franchise legacy, Parker Crane, and how the sequels turn terror into generational healing
- Critic’s Crypt ratings: Ambrose 4.5 / 5 coffins, Kelly 4 / 5 coffins
Call to action:
If you enjoyed this deep dive into Insidious, follow the show, leave a rating or review, and share this episode with the friend who still can’t hear “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” without checking the corners of the room.
Have a horror movie you want us to tackle next or a hot take on the Lipstick-Face Demon? Check the show notes for our links and send us your picks and theories.
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[Ambrose:] Welcome back, everyone. Pull up a chair, dim the lights. Today we are talking about the movie that, honestly, I think redefined the modern jump scare.
[Kelly:] Oh, absolutely. It basically wrote the textbook for the 2010s.
[Ambrose:] It really did. And the crazy thing is, it did it using almost zero gore. It proved that a shoestring budget can actually deliver maximum creeping dread if you know what you’re doing. We are unpacking the psychological horror of astral projection, the absolute chaos behind the scenes, and how two creators went back to their roots to invent a whole terrifying new dimension.
[Kelly:] Right, and that new dimension—"The Further"—is exactly where we’re headed today. But our mission is to really analyze the foundation of this whole universe. So, we aren’t just looking at the box office numbers—which, by the way, are insane—we’re breaking down James Wan’s signature style. Specifically, the really intentional, carefully crafted design choices.
[Ambrose:] Like the sound and the color. Which are characters in themselves.
[Kelly:] Exactly. The psychology of the color, the specific mythology... all this stuff makes this film stand out. It was a huge pivot in the genre, moving away from that whole "torture porn" label that, ironically, these two guys helped create.
[Ambrose:] Right, let’s get into that context first. Because we’ve got this incredible stack of material here detailing everything from the score composition to the surprisingly lo-fi production. But what strikes me right away about the story behind Insidious is that it wasn’t born out of confidence.
[Kelly:] No, not at all. It was the opposite.
[Ambrose:] It wasn't some huge studio backing them saying, "Here's a blank check." It came from a need to reclaim their artistic voice. Wan and Leigh Whannell, the duo behind the original Saw, they came to this project from a place of what one source called "quiet creative desperation."
[Kelly:] That is such a perfect phrase for it. "Quiet creative desperation." Because that was the core motivation. They had made the original Saw, which—let’s remember—is this contained, super clever indie thriller. But they felt like they were just systematically denied recognition for the actual filmmaking craft of it.
[Ambrose:] Right. Especially when the sequels took off and just became these really gory, complicated meat-grinders.
[Kelly:] Yeah, that’s what the series became known for. That late 2000s trend of extreme violence. They created the sandbox, but the sand wasn't really theirs anymore.
[Ambrose:] So they were trying to escape the shadow of their own success, which is, you know, a pretty common story for artists. They’d followed up Saw with two other films, Death Sentence and that puppet movie, Dead Silence.
[Kelly:] Which were... fine, you know? They weren't bad. But in that specific context, they were definitely seen as these mediocre follow-ups that didn’t really land the way people expected.
[Ambrose:] Right, because even though they had money to play with now, they didn’t have that same raw, indie spark that really defined them in the first place.
[Kelly:] Exactly. They felt they’d lost creative control. So the decision was very deliberate. They needed to hit a complete reset. You know go back to low-budget filmmaking where they could control every single choice. Wan literally said to Whannell, "We love ghost stories. Let’s write a tiny contained film. But it has to be undeniably, fundamentally..."
[Ambrose:] Fucking scary.
[Kelly:] Exactly. And Wan’s mindset going in was so humble. And I love this detail. He said their goal was just to get a good-looking demo reel.
[Ambrose:] Now, that is wild to me. The guy who made Saw just wanted a demo reel?
[Kelly:] Yeah! It sounds like they saw themselves as understudies who just got lucky once and were hoping to land a lead role again. They were maybe expecting a small theatrical run, some decent DVD sales.
[Ambrose:] And the beauty of that humility is that it shaped the whole production. When you’re working with a super tight budget—we’re talking under one and a half million dollars—you can’t rely on expensive digital effects.
[Kelly:] Right, exactly. So there’s basically no CGI crutch to lean on when things get tricky.
[Ambrose:] Nope, none. But honestly? That budget constraint is exactly what forced them to be creatively innovative.
[Kelly:] It’s the ultimate example of constraints breeding brilliance. Wan intentionally avoided CGI. He went for practical scares, makeup, meticulous sound design, and just really clever lighting tricks. And honestly? Those choices end up delivering a way more raw and unsettling experience than some big-budget horror movie ever could.
[Ambrose:] Absolutely. And that aesthetic choice is so critical because it plays right into our deep-seated fear of the uncanny. You know, things that look almost real but are just subtly wrong. That’s always cheaper to produce than some giant CGI monster, but way more effective.
[Kelly:] And the result was one of the biggest financial wins in modern horror. A true box office shockwave. The film came out in 2011 and grossed nearly $100 million worldwide. The final number is like $99,870,000.
[Ambrose:] It’s basically 100 million, with 54 million of that coming from the domestic market alone. But here’s where it gets really wild for anyone who follows film financing. When you compare that worldwide gross to the production budget, the ratio is just staggering. Insidious grossed 66.6 times its production budget.
[Kelly:] Come on. That number—66.6—feels a little too perfect, doesn’t it?
[Ambrose:] It’s almost poetic for a movie about demons. You can't write that stuff.
[Kelly:] It really is. But financially, that ratio made Insidious the biggest success of 2011, based on that cost-to-gross metric. And what makes it even crazier is the context. It was released in April 2011, a time that analysts were calling "weak and depressing" for the box office.
[Ambrose:] So it didn’t just succeed—it completely blew everything else out of the water, even in a down market. It was basically a rescue mission for the genre. And naturally, everyone immediately compared it to Paranormal Activity, another low-budget monster hit. Especially for its ability to deliver that PG-13, totally bloodless horror that still created just unbearable tension.
[Kelly:] And that comparison is key. After Saw, people associated Wan and Whannell with extreme violence. Insidious proved they could pivot completely. They brought supernatural horror back to its psychological roots. The tension became the special effect, not the gore. And this told the entire industry, "Hey, horror doesn’t need a $20 million budget and buckets of blood to work."
[Ambrose:] Exactly. It created a whole new template for those cost-effective supernatural movies we saw all through the 2010s. It told executives, "Look, you can invest small if the idea is good and the execution is sharp." Which is why this film is a cornerstone not just of horror, but of actual indie financing strategy.
[Kelly:] But the real core of its success isn’t just the budget or the tension. It’s the mythology. Wan and Whannell had to invent a universe that felt fresh, that went beyond the standard ghost stereotype.
[Ambrose:] Indeed. And that’s a great transition to the architecture of fear they designed. This next part is so critical because it details the world-building that really elevates Insidious way above a typical haunted house story. The first big reveal is the one that just dismantles that traditional premise.
[Kelly:] Yeah, exactly. It’s that moment when the family actually moves houses. They do the rational thing, they pack up, they leave... but the terror just follows them right to the new place. That is such a sinking feeling for the audience. And it confirms that classic line from the tagline: "It was not the house that was haunted."
[Ambrose:] Right, because the problem is internal. It’s personal. It’s actually focused on their son, Dalton. And that’s when Lin Shaye—the iconic psychic Elise Rainier—comes in and gives the diagnosis. She explains that Dalton is an "astral projector." So, while his body is in this coma, his consciousness has wandered too far into this terrifying dimension called "The Further." Which leaves his body as just an empty vessel, essentially a beacon.
[Kelly:] That concept—the body staying put, but the spirit wandering—is so scary because it removes the safety of geography. You can’t just board up the windows or move away from the threat. The threat is inside your family. So how exactly is The Further defined in the lore?
[Ambrose:] Well, they define it very meticulously. Imagine a dark, cold, empty dimension. It's basically a realm of lost souls, wandering spirits, and naturally, some exceptionally malicious demons. So conceptually, it’s kind of like a purgatory—just a dangerous space that exists somewhere between heaven, earth, and hell.
[Kelly:] It sounds terrifyingly bleak. But the look of it is so specific—do we know what the actual inspiration was for creating that kind of aesthetic?
[Ambrose:] Well, they actually drew heavily on parapsychology research. James Wan especially has this intense fascination with lucid dreaming and near-death experiences. And those concepts really gave the spiritual world of Insidious these clear, specific, and exploitable rules. You know, rules that govern where souls can go and what happens when they leave their body. So it’s not just spooky ghosts; it’s like a formalized, almost scientific framework for a haunting.
[Kelly:] It sounds less like some hazy, ghostly realm and more like a specific, mapped-out dimension, which makes the stakes feel so much more clinical and real. And that psychological precision is what makes the entities Dalton meets so effective.
[Ambrose:] Absolutely. The stakes are defined by those entities. The main one, of course, is the instantly recognizable Lipstick-Face Demon. Or the Red-Faced Demon. And this entity is so malicious, it doesn’t just want to scare Dalton—it wants to possess his empty body, which is just lying there, open and vulnerable.
[Kelly:] Right, exactly. But what a lot of people might not realize is that the guy playing that terrifying demon is actually the film’s composer, Joseph Bishara. Which is just... I mean, talk about a double threat.
[Ambrose:] Seriously. It’s basically him saying, "I'll write the music that terrifies you, and then I'll dress up and terrify you personally." But while we're on the subject of his look, I really want to talk about the visual symbolism with this demon.
[Kelly:] Oh, absolutely. And nowhere is that clearer than when Josh, you know the dad who finally goes into The Further. And he finds Dalton chained up inside the demon’s lair, which is just eerily filled with marionettes. But those aren’t just there for a cheap creep factor. They powerfully symbolize the demon’s total control. Basically, it wants to move Dalton’s body around like a puppet. So once it takes over, it really highlights that violation of innocence.
[Ambrose:] And it really speaks to Wan’s whole preoccupation with puppets and control. It’s a theme he hits in Dead Silence, and then later with Annabelle. But the Lipstick-Face Demon isn’t the only threat, right? There’s another, more insidious one that actually sets up the whole ending.
[Kelly:] Ahhh yes, that’s the Bride in Black. Or the Old Woman. And her threat is generational. Elise Rainier reveals that she had to hypnotize Josh when he was a kid. She had to force him to forget he had this ability, because of this childhood trauma involving this ghostly woman who would show up behind him in photographs.
[Ambrose:] And that detail is so complex and brilliant. The hypnosis, the photos... it explains why Josh is so disconnected from his own abilities as an adult, why he seems so resistant to believing what’s happening. He literally repressed a core part of himself. And the fact that the ghost appears in pictures is such a great cinematic way to explain that old "ghost photo" pattern.
[Kelly:] It’s a classic horror device, but here it’s actually integrated into the lore. The photos confirm that this entity was specifically hunting Josh long before Dalton was ever born.
[Kelly:] And speaking of hidden threats, the genius of the filmmaking is how they foreshadow the Lipstick-Face Demon.
[Ambrose:] Oh, totally. And when you start diving into the background details, you find out just how often he was actually hiding in plain sight.
[Kelly:] Yeah, Wan is a total master of that subliminal stuff. The demon actually appears subtly in multiple frames way before his big reveal. Sometimes he just blends almost seamlessly into the background. Like, take the opening credits—you can briefly see his creepy face reflected in a bathroom mirror.
[Ambrose:] Ugh, mirrors. Always mirrors.
[Kelly:] Always. And there’s also that ghostly boy who just blends into the pattern in the laundry room while Renai is folding clothes. They hid the threats in these little transition moments or in the background scenery, which basically demands that you rewatch the film just to catch those little unsettling glimpses.
[Ambrose:] It creates this auditory and visual paranoia. You feel like you should have seen it, which makes the terror feel more personal and persistent. And this brings us to that shocking climax, which ties all these generational and spiritual threads together into one hell of a cliffhanger.
[Kelly:] Right, and that climax is just a beautifully executed plot mechanism. Because we finally find out that Josh, like his son, is also a traveler. This is the ability he repressed specifically because of that childhood trauma with the Bride in Black. So Elise realizes that Josh, unlike Dalton, actually has the strength to go in and get his son back. Which is why she hypnotizes him and guides him straight into The Further.
[Ambrose:] And we also learn that Lorraine, Josh’s mom, has some of these latent abilities too. It confirms that astral projection is this generational gift—or curse—in the Lambert family line.
[Kelly:] And that generational link is crucial for the sequels. But here, it just serves to raise the stakes. So Josh goes into The Further. It’s an unnerving journey, navigating the dark, encountering these horrific spirits. And he finally reaches the demon’s lair where Dalton is being held.
[Ambrose:] That scene in the lair is iconic. It is so deeply unsettling. Josh finds Dalton chained up and the red-faced demon is there, just sharpening its claws. And it’s not set to some scary orchestral music... it’s set to Tiny Tim’s Tiptoe Through the Tulips.
[Kelly:] That paradox is pure brilliance. It’s classic horror counterpoint. You have this high-pitched, strange, almost innocent ukulele song paired with pure malicious evil. The sound contrast just completely disarms you. It weaponizes a familiar, goofy old song to produce dread. It’s without a doubt one of the series' most memorable and scariest moments.
[Ambrose:] Yeah, it maximizes that feeling of violation. It feels like the demon is actually enjoying itself, treating this whole thing like a fun little game. But eventually, despite the terror, Josh succeeds. He gets to Dalton and they both return to their bodies. And for a moment, it really seems like they’re safe.
[Kelly:] And this is where that final, brutal twist comes in. The family is reunited for a moment. Dalton wakes up. You feel the sense of relief. But Elise is a professional. She senses something is wrong. She takes a photograph of Josh like a final check, and instantly sees the horrific truth. Josh never truly came back.
[Ambrose:] And just like that, the ghost story becomes a possession story. Josh is now possessed by the spirit of the old woman, the Bride in Black, who’s been stalking him since he was a kid.
[Kelly:] Which makes the ending absolutely merciless. The possessed Josh turns on Elise and strangles her to death. And the film just cuts to black right after Renai finds Elise’s body and the camera pans to that photograph. You know, the one that develops to show the ghostly woman’s face right over Josh’s? It’s the perfect nihilistic, shocking ending that basically just locks you in for the sequel.
[Ambrose:] It’s the perfect cliffhanger. And man, it worked. It created this huge demand for a resolution. But to really appreciate how they achieved that level of terror for the whole movie, we need to shift from the plot to the technical side of things. James Wan’s specific aesthetic choices and his signatures as a director.
[Kelly:] Oh, absolutely. And honestly, that shift is crucial because Wan is, by any definition, an auteur. I mean, he has this highly recognizable directorial fingerprint that runs across Insidious, Saw, The Conjuring, Malignant... So throughout his work, we see several recurring elements that really show off his specific anxieties and cinematic style.
[Ambrose:] Right. And to kick that list off, let’s start with the one we actually already touched on: the moving protagonists.
[Kelly:] Yes. In Wan’s world, horror isn’t geographical, it’s not tied to a place. Just like in Dead Silence and The Conjuring. The Lamberts start by moving in, realize the problem is personal, and they move again, only to find the trouble follows them. This rule in his movies signifies that the supernatural threat isn’t about the house you live in. It’s about the person you are or the family you’re a part of. The horror is mobile and internalized.
[Ambrose:] That’s way more psychologically taxing than just running away from a spooky house. What’s another key signature of his?
[Kelly:] His deep, deep fascination with puppets, dolls, and mannequins. It shows up almost everywhere. Billy the Puppet from Saw, the whole premise of Dead Silence, and of course, Annabelle.
[Ambrose:] Right, it's everywhere. And here in Insidious, we see that motif pop up in both really obvious and subtle ways. The obvious one, of course, is the demon’s lair, which is just packed with marionettes, right? And that basically reinforces the idea of Dalton as a puppet.
[Kelly:] Exactly, but if you look closer, there’s a more subtle detail. Eagle-eyed fans have actually spotted a barely noticeable mannequin just tucked away in the Lambert’s attic in the first house. It’s just lurking in the shadows. It’s a throwaway detail, but it speaks to Wan’s consistent aesthetic—that sense that humanity is always being watched, maybe even controlled, by these inert, unsettling proxies.
[Ambrose:] Yeah, exactly. But you know, beyond just the objects themselves, Wan also has a very specific style of visual movement that he uses across basically all his films.
[Kelly:] That’s right. He frequently uses these really dynamic spiraling camera movements. You see it prominently in Saw and years later in Malignant. But Insidious starts with an even more distinct visual cue. That opening shot that inverts 180 degrees—the whole world flips upside down.
[Ambrose:] What’s the cinematic theory behind that? Why start the movie that way?
[Kelly:] Well, it acts as an immediate nonverbal signal. It’s visually establishing this theme of inversion and instability right off the bat. It’s meant to jar you and tell you from frame one: "The reality you know is unstable." So, it signifies the transition from the stable real world to the inverted evil reality of The Further. It’s basically cinematic shorthand.
[Ambrose:] And it’s just like when a character walks through a door in The Conjuring and the room suddenly feels cold. Wan uses the camera itself to signal a shift into an evil space.
[Kelly:] Precisely.
[Ambrose:] And speaking of The Conjuring, let’s talk about those brilliant cross-franchise connections and Easter eggs. It really shows how Wan and Whannell were mapping out this whole horror universe in their minds, even with different studios involved.
[Kelly:] The most famous Easter egg for sure connects back to Saw. In a classroom scene, on the chalkboard behind the dad, there’s a little sketch of Billy the Puppet.
[Ambrose:] And the detail that makes that so cool is the number drawn underneath it.
[Kelly:] Exactly. Underneath Billy, there’s the number eight. When Insidious came out in 2011, this was the only clue that a possible eighth Saw movie was coming. And that movie, Jigsaw, eventually came out six years later. It shows incredible forward planning and a little wink to the fans.
[Ambrose:] And then there are the connections to the universe Wan would later build out. I mean, the grandmother is named Lorraine... which is the same name as the paranormal investigator Lorraine Warren from the Conjuring films.
[Kelly:] Right, it’s a cool link. But even though the lore is technically different—since Insidious is based on this invented parapsychology, while The Conjuring is based on real-life case files—they do share these core structural ideas. Like, The Conjuring 2 has a major plot point involving astral projection, which is obviously the central mechanic of The Further.
[Ambrose:] So Wan was basically holding onto this concept of a psychic non-physical travel dimension for years, just deploying it in slightly different ways depending on the franchise. It’s evidence of a really consistent personal approach to building supernatural rules.
[Kelly:] Right, and honestly, it speaks to the efficiency of great world-builders. They recycle concepts, sure, but they refine them based on the needs of the story. And in doing so, they create this consistent feeling of a regulated spiritual space, even across totally different movie worlds.
[Ambrose:] That attention to detail is remarkable. Let’s move into the sensory realm now, specifically the use of color and light. Because it is so intentional and so striking in this movie. The Further isn’t just dark; it’s aggressively colorful.
[Kelly:] It is. And that specific visual style is heavily indebted to Giallo films. For anyone listening who isn’t familiar, Giallo is basically an Italian mystery and horror genre from the '60s and '70s. And it’s defined by an extreme focus on aesthetics, high psychological suspense, and most importantly, this deliberate use of clashing, stylized red and blue neon light.
[Ambrose:] So it’s not just a genre, it’s a whole aesthetic framework. And how does that show up specifically in The Further?
[Kelly:] Well, look at the Demon’s lair, where the Lipstick-Faced Demon lives. That space is almost entirely saturated in this dense, deep red. And that contrasts sharply with the vast, cold, monochromatic blue hues that define all the open spaces of The Further.
[Ambrose:] But, why red and blue specifically?
[Kelly:] Well, Wan actually explained it was a deliberate psychological choice. Basically, he intended the deep red to literally represent the evil in the movie. It adds to the psychology by making the threat feel pervasive and hot, which contrasts with the cold, alien blue of the rest of the realm. Meanwhile, the scenes in the real world feel brighter and more neutral by comparison, which really emphasizes the normalcy that the family has lost. So in The Further, the light is either chilling blue or brutal red, making every scene an aggressive psychological experience.
[Ambrose:] So, the color becomes an antagonist itself. And this sense of visual contrast extends to the use of physical space. Particularly doors.
[Kelly:] Absolutely. Doors are treated like cinematic punctuation marks in the real world. The camera is constantly traveling through open doors or looking through them. It suggests curiosity, movement, a false sense of accessibility. And this sets up the key mythological element in The Further: the specific Red Doors.
[Ambrose:] Ah, the Red Doors. Not just architecture, but portals.
[Kelly:] Right, exactly. They act as functional symbolic elements. Basically, the Red Doors are literal portals or entry points between dimensions—the ultimate threshold. And by contrasting the open doors of the real world with the few highly significant, color-coded Red Doors of The Further, Wan reinforces that movement in this universe is deliberate and dangerous, not accidental.
[Ambrose:] True. But honestly, the lighting and set design are only half of the terror formula. The other half—maybe the more important half—is the masterful, unique use of sound and score. And that brings us back to Joseph Bishara, the composer who...
[Kelly:] who, just to remind everyone, also played the demon.
[Ambrose:] Right, exactly. But putting the makeup aside for a second, his approach to the score was unique because he treated the instruments almost like sound effects.
[Kelly:] Oh, totally. And honestly, Bishara’s score is a monumental achievement in modern horror music because of that approach. He created this incredibly effective composition rooted in atonal classical techniques. And just so we're clear, when we say "atonal," we mean music that deliberately avoids centering on a specific key.
[Ambrose:] And why does that generate dread psychologically?
[Kelly:] Basically, because atonality denies the listener any emotional release. You know how in traditional music, even a dissonant sound resolves back to a recognizable chord? That gives your ear comfort. But atonal music refuses that resolution. So it feels permanently unstable, like a structure that’s about to collapse. And actually, Bishara cited composers like Xenakis, Penderecki, and George Crumb as inspiration—guys known for using density, texture, and noise rather than melody to create intensity.
[Ambrose:] It sounds like they weren’t composing music so much as they were designing sonic weapons.
[Kelly:] Essentially, yes. They were designed to irritate the auditory system. And the way Bishara created those signature raw sounds is a fantastic example of low-budget innovation meeting artistic intent.
[Ambrose:] So how did they get that soundscape?
[Kelly:] It’s actually pretty wild. I mean, technically, the main instrumentation was just a standard quartet—you know, two violins, a viola, cello, and a piano. But, that unique, abrasive texture everyone talks about? That actually came from a rusted piano shell that Bishara’s friend found discarded in an alley behind his studio.
[Ambrose:] Wait. A discarded relic becomes an instrument of terror? That’s incredible.
[Kelly:] He literally weaponized trash from an alley. Bishara recorded one night using unconventional tools. He called it a "hardware store raid." He was using hammers, screws, and different shaped files directly on the piano strings to create those discordant, scraped, and booming percussive sounds.
[Ambrose:] I love that detail. It perfectly connects that DIY, low-budget ethos directly to the final high-concept musical product. And it’s interesting because the piano isn't just a prop for the score—it’s actually highly symbolic within the movie’s story, right?
[Kelly:] Exactly. And it actually provides that emotional counterpoint we talked about earlier. Because Renai, the mother, is a pianist, right? She writes these tender songs for her husband, Josh—it’s how she expresses love and comfort. So by using that same instrument, the piano, but in this violently rusted and abused form to deliver the evil sound of the ghosts, Bishara is cleverly contrasting Renai’s safety with the encroaching, corrosive terror. It’s literally the sound of her world being corrupted.
[Ambrose:] And the power of that score is amplified by a critical decision that Leigh Whannell made about the jump scares.
[Kelly:] Right, and this is huge: Whannell intentionally avoided writing any false jump scares. So, there’s no scene where a loud noise turns out to be just a cat or a silly prank. And honestly, that decision pays off massively.
[Ambrose:] Exactly. By removing the safety net, it calibrates the audience’s fear mechanism precisely. Every scare is real.
[Kelly:] Right, because if every single sudden noise is a legitimate threat, the audience can never relax. So when those actual stingers hit—which, by the way, often sound like someone just violently slamming on a piano—they are exponentially more effective and honestly, just emotionally draining.
[Ambrose:] And Wan, as the director, had this exceptional ear for placing those piano stings. The music wasn’t just slapped on top; it was integrated with the editing.
[Kelly:] Yes, the score even evolved subtly as the family moved houses. The music at the first house tended to be more percussive, sharp piano hits creating these frantic moments. When they moved to the second house, the score introduced more of these drawn-out, scraping string textures. Tracks like "Voices in the Static" are a perfect example, with popular plucked sounds, scraping violins, and then those booming piano assaults when Renai gets startled.
[Ambrose:] And what about "Hooves for Feet," the track that plays when the terrifying drawing of the demon is being made?
[Kelly:] Oh, that track is a masterpiece in building dread. It starts with these hollow, sawing cello sounds, generating this nervous cyclical rhythm. And then it just rises to this unbearable crescendo as the image of the demon solidifies on the page. Wan and Bishara collaborated so fluidly, Wan would often cut the film to the original score, making sure the sound was an organic part of the visual shock.
[Ambrose:] This film really is a case study in maximizing minimal resources through just sheer creative intention and technical mastery. Let’s pivot now to the final details, the human element behind it all. The cast, the crew, and the film’s lasting legacy.
[Kelly:] Right, and that starts with the core cast, who provide the necessary emotional anchors. On one hand, you have Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne, who just perfectly ground the film as the parents, Josh and Renai. But then, the performance of Lin Shaye as Elise Rainier was universally lauded. She basically established herself as the sage, maternal figure of this whole universe.
[Ambrose:] And we can’t forget the critical function of the supporting team: Leigh Whannell as Specs, and Angus Sampson as Tucker.
[Kelly:] Oh, totally. They provided that essential, much-needed levity. Because the film is otherwise so suffocatingly tense, right? So those characters—who are basically like the ghost hunting version of the Geek Squad—offer the audience a chance to breathe. It lets you crack a smile and just momentarily release some tension before the next scare hits.
[Ambrose:] Now let’s go back to that fascinating dynamic with Joseph Bishara, the composer who was also the demon actor, and the young actor playing Dalton, Ty Simpkins. This is where the commitment to authenticity got very intense.
[Kelly:] Right, because James Wan intentionally set up a strict protocol on set. He basically preferred for the actors to meet Bishara in full, terrifying demon makeup only when they were actually filming a scene together. And he did that because he was aiming for genuine, unrehearsed shock and fear. He wanted those natural reaction shots.
[Ambrose:] For an adult actor, that’s a calculated choice, but for a kid who was only 8 or 9 years old at the time, that must have been genuinely distressing.
[Kelly:] Well, Wan himself noted that Simpkins was genuinely terrified of the demon, especially having to just stand next to this creature fully painted in the dark. As the shoot went on, Wan realized he couldn’t keep that level of psychological pressure on a child for the entire shoot.
[Ambrose:] So he had to break the illusion, right?
[Kelly:] Absolutely. But he also had to reassure the young actor that the demon wasn’t real. So he took Simpkins to the makeup trailer to watch Bishara get into the prosthetics. He basically explained, 'Look, it’s just an actor in makeup.' In fact, the story goes that Simpkins even got to apply some of the makeup himself, which gave him a degree of control over the thing that was scaring him.
[Ambrose:] That seems like a responsible way to manage a young actor’s mental well-being on a very scary film set.
[Kelly:] It was necessary. But here’s where Wan’s dedication to authenticity becomes a really fascinating point of discussion about directing kids. For the key scenes that needed a raw emotional response, like deep terror or real crying, Wan would use a different tactic, often at the last minute.
[Ambrose:] The moment where the director knows the actor is getting too relaxed and needs to turn the performance back up to 11.
[Kelly:] Exactly. Wan admitted that when he needed the child to break out and cry, he would find ways to get that response without, you know, fully breaking the child’s spirit. He recalled one time where Simpkins was having too much fun on set, which he said was "not the effect I want." So Wan whispered to him, teasing that the very next thing they would shoot was the monster chasing after him.
[Ambrose:] And the result?
[Kelly:] Simpkins' eyes immediately welled up and Wan yelled, "Roll camera!" It’s an incredibly clear example of a director using psychological manipulation—or maybe you’d call it precise artistic coaching—to get a raw, unrehearsed emotional response. It just shows the high value they placed on immediate authenticity in that intense, low-budget horror environment.
[Ambrose:] It really is. That desire for absolute authenticity—even down to a child’s reaction—is a hallmark of Wan’s filmmaking. And actually, speaking of the people on set... moving away from the actors for a second, there are some wonderful details about the crew hidden in the film itself.
[Kelly:] Yes, the classic crew Easter egg. In the classroom scenes, if you freeze the frame, the chalkboard detention list is actually a shout-out to various crew members that are just hiding in plain sight.
[Ambrose:] It’s a great way to thank the team. Who are some of the key names on there?
[Kelly:] The list included essential, often unsung crew members: the craft service providers Joe Hourihan and Lisa Cabello, set dressers like Heather Mitchell and Kayleigh Fisher, the unit production manager Rick Osako, the line producer Jeanette Brill, and the script supervisor, Renetta Amador. It reinforces that tight-knit, collaborative feel of an indie production.
[Ambrose:] And there’s a sweet familial detail too. Leigh Whannell’s wife, Corbett Tuck, she played two roles in the film. She was a nurse and also "Doll Girl Number Two" in The Further. It really speaks to how on a low-budget movie, everyone wears multiple hats, sometimes literally.
[Kelly:] It really was a labor of love. And despite those humble roots, Insidious is rightly described as a cornerstone of supernatural horror in the 2010s. I mean, it didn’t just succeed; it provided a masterclass in building fear through sound, psychological tension, and atmosphere. And in doing so, it shifted the industry’s focus away from its dependence on gore.
[Ambrose:] Oh, completely. And honestly, what really sealed the deal was that abrupt, shocking ending. It was a stroke of genius for franchise building. Because it perfectly set up Insidious: Chapter 2, which—to its credit—didn’t just rehash the first film, but actually deepened the lore significantly.
[Kelly:] Right, exactly. And Chapter 2 is crucial because it provides the origin story and the resolution we really needed. I mean, it dives into Josh’s repressed childhood trauma with the Bride in Black. And eventually, it reveals that the entity possessing him is actually the ghost of a serial killer named Parker Crane.
[Ambrose:] It's such a wild twist. And honestly, the detail about Parker Crane is genuinely fascinating. He was a male serial killer who dressed as a woman, which is the specific reason Josh saw him as the Old Woman. Or the Bride in Black.
[Kelly:] Exactly. And the sequel gets really complicated by creating this time-loop connection between the films. Josh, while he’s possessed, actually visits his own past and interacts with his younger self. The possessed Josh is revealed to be the true source of the haunting. In the first film, he’s basically being haunted by his own future possessed self. It turned the whole thing into this deeply personal temporal paradox.
[Ambrose:] That complexity really rewards a dedicated audience because it elevates the film beyond simple jump scares and turns it into this multi-generational saga about trauma and consequence.
[Kelly:] It does. And while the first film ends with that horrifying, nihilistic twist—Elise dead, Josh possessed—it’s interesting to see how the franchise evolved. The later movies, especially Insidious: The Red Door, concluded the Lambert family story with an uncharacteristically optimistic conclusion.
[Ambrose:] Yeah, talk about a pivot. I mean, it’s a surprisingly optimistic conclusion for a series that was originally founded on absolute terror.
[Kelly:] Yes, it focused heavily on emotional resolution and character development, particularly for Dalton and Josh, even while hinting that the threat of The Further is still a permanent fixture in their lives. The saga became this exploration of healing generational trauma. But it all began with Wan and Whannell returning to their scrappy indie roots, determined simply to create something fundamentally, unapologetically fucking scary.
[Ambrose:] And they definitely succeeded. But... uh... speaking of scary? Is it just me, or are those lights in the studio definitely getting dimmer? And seriously, did the temperature just drop about 10 degrees. WHOOOA, I swear I just saw something move in the shadows over there.
[Kelly:] Ahh just... don't look at it, Ambrose. Seriously.
[Ambrose:] You don't have to tell me twice. Trust me, I’m not looking.
[Kelly:] It sounds like the veil between worlds is thinning again.
[Ambrose:] Uh..yeah I don't want to know about that. Just pass me that flashlight, will you? Because we need to head down to the Critic's Crypt and pass our final judgment on Insidious.
[Kelly:] Here. And keep it steady... my hands are shaking too much. Let's get this over with before the batteries die, because we have one massive, uncomfortable question left to answer.
[Ambrose] Okay, I got it... I’m steady. But yeah, you’re right. We gotta hit this last point before we go dark. The big one. I mean... is the Lipstick-Face Demon actually scary, or does he just look like he lost a fight with a makeup kit?
[Kelly] Exactly! I mean, he is terrifying, but also, maybe he just wants to look pretty? Anyway, let’s get into the good stuff first, because this movie actually has a lot of it.
[Ambrose] Oh, for sure. The best thing about Insidious is the sound design. Those screeching violins? They mess me up every time. And it’s not just loud; it’s annoying in a way that makes your skin crawl.
[Kelly] Right? It puts your nerves on edge. But see, that audio is exactly why the jump scares land so hard. I mean, we have to talk about the dining room table scene. That is a classic. It happens in broad daylight, so you think you're safe, and you aren't expecting it at all.
[Ambrose] Right? That might be one of the best scares in horror history. Plus, I really liked the concept of "The Further." It’s cool to see a haunted house movie that ISN’T actually about the house, but about the kid.
[Kelly] Yeah, the story is strong. But, we have to be fair. It isn't perfect.
[Ambrose] Oh, definitely not. And honestly, for me, the third act is where it gets a little weird. Like, once they go into The Further, it feels less like a horror movie and almost like a fantasy adventure.
[Kelly] I agree. It loses some tension there. Also, the demon looks way scarier in the shadows. But, when you see him fully lit up at the end, he kinda looks a little, I don’t know… rubbery.
[Ambrose] Yeah, just a little. And the ghost hunters, Specs and Tucker, are funny, but sometimes their jokes ruin the scary mood.
[Kelly] A little bit, yeah. They definitely cut the tension a little too much sometimes. But honestly? I still love them; they give me a chance to breathe. But, anyway. Enough about the ghost busters... let’s actually rate this nightmare.
[Ambrose] Ok, well for me I’m giving Insidious a 4.5 out of 5 coffins. I have to say it truly did reinvent the jump scare for a whole new generation. And I do have to say it actually ruin Tiptoe through the tulips for me.
[Kelly] Oh, totally. That song is officially cursed now. I can’t hear it without looking over my shoulder. But, looking at your score... I totally get the love, but 4.5 feels just a little generous for me. I’m gonna come in at a solid 4 out of 5 coffins. Like, don’t get me wrong, it’s a wild ride, but that ending we talked about? It just gets too silly for me to go any higher.
[Ambrose] Fair enough. 4 is still—wait. [stops] Did you just turn off your flashlight?
[Kelly] No... seriously, I didn't touch anything. My thumb hasn’t moved off the switch. But... hang on, now it's jammed or something. Uh, why is it so dark in here all of a sudden?
[Ambrose] I don't know, but mine is flickering too. Like, barely holding on. And... hey, are you feeling that? Is it getting colder?
[Kelly] Yeah, it's freezing. But... wait. Ambrose, look at the wall. Do you see that? There is a red door painted on the stone. And please tell me I'm losing it... was that there before?
[Ambrose] No... no way. I definitely would have noticed that. But, uh... Kelly? You said it's painted, right? Because from this angle... it actually looks like it's cracked open.
[Kelly] Oh, you’re right... it is. And wait... actually, shh. Listen for a second. If it’s open, then do you hear that drifting out? It sounds like... like music playing on an old record player.
[Ambrose] Okay, yeah, nope. That is it. I can handle a weird painting, but creepy music? I am officially done. I’m not going anywhere near that thing. So, come on, we are leaving. Like, right now.
[Kelly] No, wait, stop! Look! It’s moving on its own... oh my god, Ambrose, the door is actually opening!
[Ambrose] Oh hell no. Run. Run as fast as you can and if that damn crypt keeper gets in your way. Run right through him.
[Kelly] Well, I would, but you’re literally blocking the way! seriously, Ambrose, you have to move first!
[Ambrose] I’m trying, okay?! My legs are jelly! Just push me if you have to, but don’t look back! [shouts] Just run!
[Kelly] [screams] Something grabbed my—
[Ambrose]: Oh my god. I didn’t think we were going to make it out this time.
[Kelly]: What do you mean WE? I looked back and you were nowhere to be seen. I actually thought it got you.
[Ambrose]: I know, but trust me, I was running as fast as I could. You might have not been able to see me, but trust me, I was right behind you.
[Kelly]: Right behind me? Please. I was waiting for you at the door, screaming your name.
[Ambrose]: Look, I was running blind back there. You had the flashlight. Technically, you were the only one who could actually see where the hell we were going.
[Kelly]: Okay, wow, you are really reaching with that one. I'm almost impressed by how bad that excuse is.
[Ambrose]: Hey, I am not reaching. I just. Okay, look, I prefer the term survivor, alright? So really, if anything, you should actually be thanking me.
[Kelly]: You think I should be thanking you?
[Ambrose]: Okay, well, you might have a point, but in my defense, I did tell you to run first. So if I didn't tell you to run, who knows what would have happened to us?
[Kelly]: Oh please, give me a break. You didn't tell me to run, you screamed like a banshee and took off! Like, seriously, the only reason I ran was because I saw how terrified you looked. So let’s not pretend that was some tactical decision, okay? You were just saving your own skin!
[Ambrose]: Okay, look, honestly... yeah, fine. That is totally fair. I can't even argue with that. But hey, you have to admit, my sheer panic acted as a pretty effective alarm system, right? I mean, if I hadn't freaked out like that, you might still be standing there, so... you're welcome?
[Kelly]: Oh my god, you are unbelievable. I mean... I hate to admit it, but yeah, you're actually kind of right. It was basically like a human siren going off right next to my head. So, fine, point taken. You saved us with your total lack of dignity. Are you happy now?
[Ambrose:] I mean, yeah, obviously I’m happy to be right for once! But... since you’ve finally admitted that running away is a valid strategy, we might want to start doing that again. Like, right now. Because it just hit me that in all that panic... I definitely didn't lock the crypt.
[Kelly:] Uh, wait….Wha—?