My preliminary research into this adaptation of a tale of demented human cruelty had me primed to expect a grueling viewing experience, if only I could be sure I would make it to the UK premier screening. But it was looking as if London's Tubes were against me. Time was ticking by, and the announcement of a fire alert at Hyde Park Corner only served to induce a fierce sense of frustration in me. Deciding to change lines, I quickly scrambled up the escalators at South Kensington, switching to the Circle and District Lines that could take me to Embankment, from where it was only a quick sprint up the Northern Line to the Leicester Square tube station- a mere stone's throw away from my final Fright Fest destination. As I hurriedly took my seat in a darkened auditorium, I wiped the sweat from my brow and settled down to the narration of David, a 50+ man remembering a painful past. I had made it, but only just. 'Brace yourself' I thought, my journey into torture and child abuse was about to begin...<br /><br />Obviously haunted by a series of traumatic past incidents and his own conflicted involvement, his monologue of regret quickly segues into a vivid portrayal of an idyllic 1950s US suburbia, or so it would seem. As in David Lynch's 'Blue Velvet', the viewer realises that still waters run deep, that all will not be as it seems, making the anticipated revelation all the more shocking. In 'The Girl Next Door' we are waiting for this idyll of childhood innocence to be shattered-after all, it has haunted our narrator for nigh on 50 years! Aware that forthcoming scenes had led to some instances of horrified audience walkouts, I took whatever solace I could in this preliminary scene-setting, desperately hoping that young David's first foray down into the basement would be a mere tease from the filmmakers.<br /><br />At first the young David seems like a lucky fellow-playing games with local friends, drinking beer next door at his neighbour's place, and meeting Meg, a lovely young lass who is adjusting to a new life at Auntie Ruth's house with her caliper-splint wearing sister after losing her parents in an automobile accident. Ruth's sons aren't quite so likable however- they enjoy watching ants devour worms. It could just be harmless childhood curiosity, but as it happens, it serves to augur something far worse. Similarly, Ruth's dispensing of beer to underage kids might also be written off as relatively harmless, but again it serves to signal the potential for something else. We begin to realise that something scary lurks behind that smile and all that hospitality. Ruth's perspective on the world is subtly skewed. Ultimately, she resents her lonely, man-less predicament, burdened by three sons, and holds neither the male nor the female sex in high regard.<br /><br />It's here that 'The Girl Next Door' displays a remarkable economy of storytelling- a few key actions and utterances are all that is required to create a set of fully realised and psychologically plausible characters by which a remarkable set of occurrences are made credible. Full credit has to go the scripting, the casting and the acting. Lesser films with more generous budgets would require 2 hours to achieve what 'The Girl Next Door' manages in only one-and-a-half. The pacing is also remarkable- by the time Meg has been imprisoned in the basement and 'the game' has begun, we have become unwilling but necessary witnesses of a despicable crime, uncertain as to the precise point at which the line was irrevocably crossed. So many otherwise innocent children have come under Ruth's sway, observing and engaging in acts they would never normally countenance, and it doesn't even seem remarkable, merely plausible.<br /><br />This is no mere sensationalist exercise in exploitation. As painful as it may be to become party to David's anguish and Meg's suffering, our identification with their plight provides the only tolerable way to participate in the witnessing of a crime that's all the more shocking because something so very similar really happened. Without its basis in veracity it might not even be justifiable as anything but perverse voyeurism. And this is why this film will be remembered. I anticipate a chain of Chinese whispers according this a deserved notoriety, assuring 'The Girl Next Door' a special place in film history alongside such shocking and cautionary works as 'Peeping Tom', 'A Clockwork Orange', and '10 Rillington Place'. Like all of these films, 'The Girl Next Door' is profoundly disturbing, not for its visceral content, but for the psychological implications of its characters' actions. After branding Meg's belly with derogatory expletives and then lighting a blow torch (at which point a member of the audience vacated the cinema), you know Ruth has gone beyond sanity, beyond any hope of an existence that can ever escape the mental ramifications of her sadism. Once Meg's suffering had concluded and Ruth's evil had been extinguished, I emerged from the cinema tear stricken. Anger, repulsion and pity may have been pulsing through my guts, but my spirit was celebrating the power of cinema. I will be forever touched by the atrocity this film forced me to confront. 'The Girl Next Door' is a film of rare pedigree.