The 15 Best Haunted Manors in Movies

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Ignacio Weil

Entertainment - November 8th 2025, 15:00 GMT+1

Cropped Crimson Peak 2015 — Crimson Peak (2015)

There’s haunted, and then there’s *Guillermo del Toro haunted –* and *Crimson Peak* is the latter in all its blood-red glory. Allerdale Hall isn’t just creepy; it’s heartbreakingly beautiful, the kind of gothic ruin that makes you want to move in despite the ghosts. The mansion groans, bleeds, and sighs under the weight of tragedy, a living monument to love gone wrong. Every frame feels painted with sorrow and obsession, and every hallway hides a memory that refuses to die. This is horror dressed in lace and candlelight, a ghost story that’s as romantic as it is terrifying. You don’t watch *Crimson Peak*; you wander through it and hope you make it out unchanged. | © Legendary Pictures

The Conjuring house from The Conjuring — The Conjuring (2013)

There’s something deeply satisfying about watching a family realize that their dream home came with a few... supernatural roommates. *The Conjuring* manages to make every bump in the night feel personal, the kind of movie that makes you turn on an extra light after you’ve sworn you’re fine. The Perron farmhouse creaks with malicious intent, while James Wan’s camera glides through its narrow halls like a curious ghost itself. It’s not just the scares that make this movie iconic – it’s how lived-in the horror feels, how domestic dread becomes something cosmic. And when those clapping hands echo from the dark, you suddenly understand why horror fans call this a modern classic. | © New Line Cinema

Cropped The Orphanage 2007 — The Orphanage (2007)

Haunted houses are at their best when they break your heart a little, and *The Orphanage* does exactly that. The seaside home where Laura once grew up – and now hopes to rebuild a life – feels soaked in grief and memory. The ghosts here aren’t evil; they’re lost, sad, and all too human, which somehow makes their presence even more haunting. J.A. Bayona crafts a story that’s less about fear and more about the ache of remembering, the things we refuse to let go of. Every door you open feels like unlocking a forgotten emotion, every whisper a reminder of love that outlives the body. By the end, you’re left wondering who was really haunting whom. | © Telecinco Cinema

Cropped A Tale of Two Sisters 2003 — A Tale of Two Sisters (2003)

Step inside a home where the wallpaper seems to breathe and every silence feels like it’s judging you. *A Tale of Two Sisters* uses its setting as a reflection of trauma itself – elegant, suffocating, and impossible to escape. The family’s house is more than haunted; it’s psychologically infected, echoing with resentment and guilt that twist reality into something quietly horrifying. Kim Jee-woon’s direction turns everyday spaces into emotional traps, where even the softest sound carries weight. You don’t just watch this movie – you untangle it, piece by piece, until it hits you like a ghostly revelation. It’s both beautiful and brutal, the kind of haunting that lingers under your skin long after the lights go out. | © B.O.M. Film Productions Co.

Cropped The Others 2001 — The Others (2001)

Fog outside, candlelight inside, and a creeping sense that something isn’t quite right – *The Others* doesn’t need jump scares to chill you to the bone. The mansion at the heart of it all feels like it’s slowly exhaling secrets, one dimly lit corridor at a time. Nicole Kidman gives a masterclass in paranoia, walking that line between protector and prisoner with haunting precision. The tension builds so gradually that you almost don’t notice your heartbeat syncing with the creak of the floorboards. When the final twist arrives, it’s not just clever – it reframes everything in the most quietly devastating way possible. It’s the kind of ghost story that whispers instead of screams, and somehow that makes it all the more unforgettable. | © StudioCanal

Cropped Beetlejuice 1988 — Beetlejuice (1988)

If haunted houses had a sense of humor, they’d look exactly like the one in *Beetlejuice*. Tim Burton takes the gothic gloom of the afterlife and drenches it in neon weirdness, turning death into something oddly cozy. The house itself is a bizarre battleground between the dead and the living, where ghosts just want their peace and homeowners just want a good aesthetic. Every crooked wall and surreal renovation screams personality – literally, sometimes. It’s a haunted house that proves not all spirits are out for blood – some just want their home décor back. And when that striped menace finally shows up, the afterlife suddenly feels like the ultimate open house from hell. | © The Geffen Company

Cropped Poltergeist 1982 — Poltergeist (1982)

Sometimes the scariest thing about a haunted house is how normal it looks – just another cheerful suburban home hiding a cosmic nightmare under its foundation. *Poltergeist* nailed that contrast perfectly, turning childhood wonder into something deeply unsettling. The ghosts here don’t lurk in shadows; they come through the TV, the closet, the very walls, dismantling the illusion of safety one toy at a time. Spielberg’s fingerprints are all over the spectacle, but the real magic lies in the slow unraveling of an ordinary family facing something unspeakable. It’s both terrifying and weirdly tender, proving that even tract housing can be built on ancient, vengeful ground. | © Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM)

Cropped the shining 1980 — The Shining (1980)

There are haunted houses, and then there’s the Overlook Hotel – a place so steeped in madness it practically hums. Kubrick’s *The Shining* turns endless hallways into fever dreams and patterned carpets into psychological traps. Every room feels like a memory of violence waiting to repeat itself, and every ghost acts like it’s been waiting for company. It’s horror by way of obsession: cold, elegant, and profoundly unsettling. Jack Torrance doesn’t just lose his mind here – he joins a lineage of souls swallowed whole by isolation. The Overlook isn’t haunted because of ghosts; it’s haunted because it remembers. | © Warner Bros. Pictures

Cropped The Changeling 1980 — The Changeling (1980)

Some hauntings whisper, others wail – and *The Changeling* knows exactly when to do both. The stately mansion at its center feels cursed not by malice, but by unbearable grief. George C. Scott’s performance gives the story its spine, grounding the supernatural in raw human sorrow. The house creaks, moans, and mourns along with him, its grand halls echoing with the pain of a secret long buried. What makes it terrifying isn’t the jump scares – it’s the sheer sadness of the haunting, the feeling that justice is clawing its way out from beneath the floorboards. By the end, you realize the real ghost here might just be regret itself. | © Associated Film Distribution

Cropped The Amityville Horror 1979 — The Amityville Horror (1979)

Before reality TV milked the name dry, *The Amityville Horror* was the ultimate “dream home gone wrong.” Based on the supposed true haunting, it sells the terror of domestic life collapsing under supernatural pressure. The Dutch Colonial house looks deceptively quaint – until the walls start bleeding and the air turns into a chorus of whispers. James Brolin and Margot Kidder play the perfect couple losing their grip on normalcy, reminding us that sometimes the American Dream has mold in the basement. It’s campy, yes, but it laid the foundation for every “based on true events” haunting that followed. | © American International Pictures

Cropped hausu 1977 — Hausu (1977)

Only Japan could give us a haunted house movie where the piano eats people and the walls gush technicolor madness. *Hausu* is equal parts horror, comedy, and fever dream – like someone gave a haunted mansion LSD and filmed the results. Nobuhiko Obayashi turns a simple ghost story into a kaleidoscopic nightmare bursting with energy, where logic takes a backseat to sheer, joyful chaos. Every room seems alive, every piece of furniture has an agenda, and every frame screams “what on earth am I watching?” in the best possible way. It’s haunted-house cinema turned performance art – beautiful, bizarre, and impossible to forget. | © Toho Co., Ltd.

The Legend of Hell House 1973 — The Legend of Hell House (1973)

If you ever wondered what would happen if scientists tried to *measure* evil, *The Legend of Hell House* has your answer – and it’s not pretty. This film turns the haunted-house trope into a battle of wills, pitting the rational against the supernatural inside the sinister Belasco House. The walls practically hum with malevolence, every shadow feels personal, and even the light can’t be trusted. It’s all very 70s in the best way: claustrophobic, cerebral, and soaked in atmosphere thick enough to choke on. The haunting here isn’t just scary – it’s confrontational, daring the characters (and us) to look into the darkness and call it by name. | © 20th Century Fox

Cropped The Haunting 1963 — The Haunting (1963)

You can almost hear Hill House breathing before you even see it. *The Haunting* remains one of the most elegant and quietly terrifying haunted-house films ever made, proving you don’t need special effects when your atmosphere is this oppressive. Every camera angle feels off, every sound just a bit too close, making paranoia the real monster. Robert Wise crafts dread with surgical precision, letting the house itself become the antagonist – one that doesn’t just scare, but seduces. The film lingers in your bones, all whispers and heartbeats, until you realize the walls have been listening the whole time. | © Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM)

Cropped The Innocents 1961 — The Innocents (1961)

Some houses whisper; Bly Manor downright breathes. *The Innocents* turns this stately English estate into a character of its own – elegant, suffocating, and filled with echoes that never quite fade. Deborah Kerr’s governess may walk the halls with composure, but every shadow feels like it’s watching her back. Director Jack Clayton and cinematographer Freddie Francis use light and space to make the manor feel alive – not through cheap tricks, but through the eerie suggestion that something unseen is always listening. It’s psychological horror at its most refined: chilling not because of what you see, but because of what you almost do. | © 20th Century Fox

House on Haunted Hill 1959 — House on Haunted Hill (1959)

Vincent Price throwing a party in a haunted house – what more do you really need? *House on Haunted Hill* is pure spooky fun, the kind of old-school horror that delights in its own melodrama. The mansion is a Gothic playground of traps, skeletons, and bad decisions, where the guests might be worse than the ghosts. It’s campy, clever, and dripping with atmosphere, balancing genuine tension with a wink to the audience. Every creak and scream feels designed to make you grin as much as gasp. It’s not just a haunted house movie – it’s the *blueprint* for every one that followed. | © Allied Artists Pictures Corporation

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There’s something timelessly creepy about a good haunted manor. Maybe it’s the endless corridors where every door creaks with bad intentions, or the fact that no one ever seems to move out no matter how cursed the place gets. From crumbling Gothic mansions to overly cheerful suburban homes built on questionable real estate, haunted houses have been a cinematic obsession for nearly a century – and we’re still not over them.

So, if you love your ghosts dramatic, your wallpaper peeling, and your chandeliers swaying at inopportune times, this list is for you. We’ve gathered the 15 best haunted manors in movie history – each one with enough paranormal energy to make you reconsider that “fixer-upper” you’ve been eyeing. (And f you’re looking for haunted manors in video games, we’ve got you covered too!)