Ghosts are real... that much I know.
'Tis the Age of Innocence (ish). Edith Cushing (Mia Wasikowska) cranks what appears to be an early cinematograph then a state-of-the art home-ents system! as we're shown the sumptuous interior of an impressively ornate neo-Gothic mansion in need of some WD-40 on its door handles.
Would you be mine?
It wasn't all living alone with only ghosts for company for our Edith. Here she is at a swanky party, meeting dashing Sir Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston) and his snooty sister, Lady Lucille (Jessica Chastain). One saucily snuffed-out candle later and Edith's married and battling rusty plumbing.
There are parts of the house that are unsafe.
Lady Lucille has all the keys to Allerdale Hall including to Edith's bathroom, meaning she has to disrobe while ghosties waft around which includes an ominous lift shaft. Where does it go?! And how old can the house really be? Going by the neo-Gothic period details, it's virtually a new-build.
Never go below this level.
Failing to understand the concept of reverse psychology, Sir Thomas issues an ultimatum to Edith which she promptly disregards, taking the ominous lift downstairs, candelabra in hand. (An electric lift but no lights?) She finds old photos of Sir Thomas with other women has he loved before?!
Has anyone died in this house?
That would be a 'Yes', as we cut to Edith's apparent confidante, Dr Alan McMichael (Charlie Hunnam), and Sir Thomas exchanging loaded glances at a funeral. Edith takes this a cue to contact the undead of the manor, which she does in a high-necked nightie and unconvincing blonde wig.
Do we have to do this?
Against all odds, Edith's raising of the dead results in the dead rising, in the form of a skinless corpse emerging from the parquet like a Harryhausen warrior, then getting dressed and tinkling the ivories before grabbing Edith's neck through her bedroom door. Guess who won't be invited back...
What do you want?
It seems pretty obvious to us, as thrilling Loki's Army and Hiddlestoners across the globe Sir Thomas clambers across his young bride to exercise his conjugal rights (rather than exorcising proof of his conjugal wrongs) but she's soon back in that passion-killing nightie, knife in hand.
This is your home now.
Lady Lucille keeps sticking her oar in; first she pooh-poohs Edith, now she won't let her leave. Is it something to do with the padlocked vats of what probably isn't Chteau du Allerdale in the cellar? And why, when it's snowing, is the ground blood-red? Is it something to do with the title? Yes.