Home on Netflix Three Endings Explained

Editor’s Note: The following contains spoilers!Netflix’s recent stop-motion animated film The House brought us three bizarre tales involving the same house with little to no firm answers to each ending, leaving many guessing at the potential meaning. Including in particular Helena Bonham Carter (Harry Potter) and Matthew Goode (Downton Abbey), the film promises acting quality with its stunning visuals.

While the first two stories were cautionary tales about stocking up on luxury and material possession out of insecurity, the last is a shining example of letting go of those fears and accepting loved ones as your ” House”. The film is covered in subtle and blatant gestures of this sentiment from start to finish, engaging the viewer with disturbing imagery and dark humor along the way.


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Ⅰ: “And heard within, a lie is woven.”

the house i heard in a lie is shot
Picture via Netflix

Transported back in time, we find a family of four nestled in their home as they prepare for the arrival of their wealthy and, frankly, hostile parents. Noses turned up, they wince at all the simple pleasures of our main characters, from the sex of their latest child to the hand-sewn items of mother and wife, Penny (Claudie Blakley). Their eldest daughter, Mabel (mia goth), navigates their presence with innocent confusion. For her, her home suits her perfectly because within it is the family she adores. His father Raymond (Matthew Goode) meanwhile seems deeply dissatisfied with this house and his progress in life after multiple disparaging comparisons to his deceased alcoholic father made by their visitors. This insecurity and deep desire to prove himself financially ultimately leads to their demise, as it leaves him vulnerable to the exploitation that inevitably follows.

A loving family in a home big enough to accommodate them all comfortably isn’t enough for Raymond, he longs for the outward validation that comes with luxury and finds it in a deal too good to be true. The desperation that guides him leads his family to accept an offer from the unnamed character in the night, promising material possessions beyond their wildest dreams (seemingly) at no cost. The only problem is that they are forbidden to return to their residenceand should only occupy the lodge. This recurring terminology is useful throughout the short, a subtle hint at the deeper meaning of the strange events to come.

In the closing scenes of this haunting tale, we see both parents fully absorbed in the new lifestyle this house has given them. Mable and Isabel approach their parents to find that they have literally turned into furniture: their father a chair and their mother curtains. Reduced to their own material desires, when the house catches fire, they are left to burn with it. Although they manage to help their children escape in a last-ditch effort to preserve what’s important, their misplaced decisions and goals likely come to a dark end for the innocent couple, now stranded in the snow.

Although there are many borderline supernatural events that occur throughout the short, the message is still very human: a house is just a house without love. A residence is something far more valuable. The hunt for wealth and social status driven by insecurity and a deep desire for external validation is lonely. If all these things you put so much value to burn, what would you have left? What will remain as a result of your decisions for those you love?

Parallel to this feeling, the first installation within The House aims to show how easily one can profit from the pursuit of happiness through material possession, and how quickly this pursuit can corrupt what is truly important in life. While there were endless red flags implicating the mysterious architect, the “host” and the house itself; both parents were more than willing to look beyond each other in order to obtain their mistaken idea of ​​success, even at the expense of their children.

Ⅱ: “So lost is the truth that cannot be won.”

the lost house is the truth that cannot be won
Picture via Netflix

In the second part, we find ourselves in the present with a focus on an anthropomorphic rat who renovates the remains of the house of the first tale. It is quickly revealed that he is buried in debt and anxiously cutting corners to ensure his project is completely completed at the lowest possible cost, with added pressure from a recession as mentioned in the news.

Throughout the short, we see him struggle with a steadily worsening insect infestation in the house, a strong metaphor for his rapidly declining mental state plagued by material desires left unfulfilled. The developer (Jarvis Cocker) never receives a name, testimony to his isolation which has led to a total loss of identity. This takes on even more weight as we witness his social skills decline, starting with making all the guests feel uncomfortable despite his best efforts, and when it’s revealed that the “sweetheart” he calls is her disgruntled dentist and not a lover.

It’s likely that our main character ignored his reservations about the odd pair in the interest of selling, but it’s even more likely that he lost his ability to trust his own intuition through this pursuit. of a luxurious future. He quickly learns that they have no intention of buying (or leaving, for that matter). The infestation of bugs, and now guests, increases with the manifestation of his long-ignored mental health symptoms and his feeble attempts to force them out only land him in the hospital.

With his loan officer calling non-stop, no buyers and seemingly no hope of realizing the things he placed higher in life than human connection: we find the developer returned home and regressed to his last state. more primitive. Scratching his ear and dropping his Bluetooth device is the final farewell to his humanity as he joins the horrific rat-bug hybrids in destroying all the material possessions in the house and rushing down a tunnel below.

Clear warnings all emphasize the importance of self and connection. Without human connection, what keeps us from being reduced to nothing more than primal desires? What purpose is left in life if we ignore our most basic needs as a means to an end that may never come? In the event that this capitalist objective is achieved at the expense of itself, what would be left of us to profit from it? Again, the film uses this dark ending to urge us to see how quickly misplaced priorities in life can lead to a painful end, and begs us to value what’s truly important. Although it’s too late for the original family and now for the developer, we can learn from their mistakes and dispel our own mental fog caused by social and economic pressure.

Ⅲ: “Listen again and look for the sun. »

the house still listens and seeks the sun
Picture via Netflix

From the title alone, it’s relatively easy to conclude that another lesson will be taught – but this time, with an alternate ending that shows how our choices can prevent the previous haunting endings. The third and final part of The House concludes the cautionary tales by taking us to a future where floods have swallowed up everything but that same strange building.

Our main character, Rosa (Susan Wokoma), is the current owner with a lifelong dream of repairing the house to make it his home. During our first meeting between the two anthropomorphic cats Rosa and Jen (Helena Bonham Carter), we learn that Rosa’s plan was to use her tenants to finance this project and eventually move them to enjoy the completely renovated house. This pursuit is arguably selfish, but even more misguided. While Rosa has an idealized vision of what “home” means to her from looking at a photo of her probably lost family, she fails to see that the feeling she craves has always been with her in the form of selected family. Her two tenants have stayed by her side despite the desolation that inevitably awaits her because they care about her, but she is unable to see it due to her fixation on an unreachable and, again, materialistic goal.

With news of the other two leaving and a final meal shared with Jen, the ever-present fog seeps into the house and takes Rosa on a confusing journey through her memories and emotions. She is faced with a choice: cherish her past but move forward in the company of those she loves, or remain in an isolated illusion destined to drown. Place her priority in a physical building or accept the support she has been blinded to by those around her.

In the end, Rosa pulls the lever built by Cosmos (Paul Kaye) in his realization that a house is not a residence. She follows the once terrifying unknown with a new priority of connection over possession. She learns something her predecessors in this house failed to do and does not fall victim to the same grim fate, thus ending the cycle.

This final scene shows a power we all hold, a choice we can all make to set ourselves free. It sums up the message perfectly. The House wishes to portray by showing an alternate ending that each character could have reached had they been introspective enough. Although we never have everything we want, and although it’s easy to get caught up in the never-ending climb to financial success, the real importance in life lies in the person with whom we share it. .

In the end credits, we hear a song that deepens the message described through each part:

“What is the difference between a house and a home?

A home is a place where you never feel alone.

But a home, oh, a home is

Just a collection of bricks.

This quote is just one of many in the lyrics that symbolize the value of human connection and love so often lost in the pursuit of materialism. From the beginning to the last rolling credits, The House serves as a brilliant metaphorical lesson. It’s visually stunning and steeped in symbolism that might take several watches to fully absorb.

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