All work and no play makes Rory O'Hara a boring boy— that is, one can scarcely ignore the similarities between the profoundly disturbing second feature of Sean Durkin, "The Nest," and "The Shining" by Stanley Kubrick, even though this is by far the more repetitive of the two films.

While the obsessive dad Jude Law plays here doesn’t fly off the handle quite so spectacularly as Jack Nicholson did, the horror hits closer to home, since what’s haunting the O’Haras isn’t supernatural.

Rather, this family’s unraveling, which likewise follows a big move to a spooky new abode, has more to do with all the baggage they’ve brought with them.

Nine years after “Martha Marcy May Marlene,” an unnerving art-house chiller that’s since achieved cult status among cinephiles, Durkin returns to the Sundance Film Festival with a movie that’s considerably more challenging, and arguably more accomplished as well — although paying audiences aren’t likely to appreciate the crystalline intricacy of what he’s trying to achieve here.

That’s because “The Nest” is not a traditional genre movie after all, although it may feel like one going in.

Those seeking boogie-boogie scares would do well to adjust their expectations. Commercial prospects are iffier than shares in a Norwegian fish farm during a recession, which is a shame, since the meticulously mounted film won’t translate well to the small screen, and feels like a no-go for streaming.

The real point of comparison between “The Nest” and a movie like “The Shining” lies in the psychological toll that a selfish father can have on his family. In a sense, it has more in common with “Marriage Story” or “The Souvenir” — films about destructive male ego told, at least in part, from a female point of view. Rory may be the first character we meet, but the movie ultimately favors Allison (Carrie Coon), the screw-turning wife seemingly conjured from one of those ghostly classics where sinister things happen when a family relocates to freaky new digs.

One day, after at least a decade spent living in the States, English-born Rory announces that he plans to uproot Allison and their two kids, son Ben (Charlie Shotwell) and stepdaughter Sam (Oona Roche), in order to pursue “an opportunity” back in London. Although she sincerely loves her husband, Allison is justified when she tells her mother, “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“It’s not your job to worry,” Mom tells her. “Leave that to your husband.” It’s a telling line, and one that reflects widespread attitudes of the period in which “The Nest” is set. Durkin, who spent time in both England and the U.S. as a child, sets the film in the mid-1980s, when women were expected to “honor” their husbands, and divorce wasn’t nearly so common.

The movie opens with a long shot of a spacious suburban home, with two cars parked in its driveway. The O’Haras are living the dream, the American dream, which Durkin indicates via clues that audiences aren’t necessarily attuned to interpreting. It doesn’t help that perks that seemed like luxuries 35 years ago are now taken for granted.

Back then, how many homes had automated espresso machines in their kitchens? (Ours didn’t even have a VCR.) Rory has achieved a level of economic and emotional success that allows the O’Haras to live more comfortably than the vast majority of Americans. But it’s not enough, not for Rory.





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