Mom, There’s a Ghost in Our House (2026) gleefully embraces the idea that terror and laughter are two sides of the same scream. This comedy-horror doesn’t aim to truly frighten its audience—it wants to charm them, disarm them, and then catch them off guard with perfectly timed chaos.
Melissa McCarthy is in peak form as Linda Jenkins, a mother whose survival instinct is humor. Rather than collapsing into panic, Linda treats the haunting like an inconvenience she can manage with sarcasm and sheer willpower. McCarthy’s physical comedy and improvisational energy give the film its heartbeat, turning every supernatural mishap into an opportunity for laughs.
Will Ferrell’s paranormal investigator is a glorious mess of confidence and incompetence. Equal parts self-proclaimed expert and walking liability, Ferrell leans into absurdity, delivering exaggerated bravado that contrasts beautifully with the escalating supernatural events. His chemistry with McCarthy feels effortless, built on comedic rhythm rather than forced jokes.
Emma Stone plays the skeptical daughter with a grounded, dry wit that anchors the madness. As the only one attempting to apply logic to an increasingly illogical situation, she becomes the audience’s surrogate—rolling her eyes even as reality bends around her. Stone’s restrained humor balances the film’s louder moments.
The ghost itself is a clever twist on genre expectations. Instead of malevolence, this spirit thrives on mischief—slamming doors for laughs, rearranging furniture, and delighting in family confusion. The haunting feels less like a threat and more like an unwanted roommate with boundary issues.
Visually, the film leans into playful horror aesthetics. Shadows move when they shouldn’t, household objects take on lives of their own, and sound design is used more for comedic timing than fear. Jump scares often turn into punchlines, subverting expectations in a way that keeps the tone light.
The script finds humor in family dynamics as much as the supernatural. Arguments over who forgot to turn off the lights blend seamlessly with debates about ghost etiquette. The haunting becomes a catalyst for chaos, but also for connection.
Pacing is brisk, never allowing the story to linger too long on scares or sentimentality. Just when things threaten to get emotional, a flying lamp or sarcastic remark brings the film back to comedy. The balance is deliberate and effective.
Underneath the laughs, the film carries a gentle message about resilience. The Jenkins family doesn’t conquer the haunting—they adapt to it. The story suggests that life’s problems don’t disappear just because we’re scared of them; sometimes, we survive by laughing first.
The third act leans fully into absurdity, stacking visual gags and escalating misunderstandings into a finale that prioritizes fun over logic. It’s loud, ridiculous, and completely aware of its own silliness.
Mom, There’s a Ghost in Our House (2026) succeeds because it knows exactly what it wants to be. It’s not a horror movie with jokes—it’s a comedy that just happens to be haunted. Warm, chaotic, and endlessly playful, the film proves that when the supernatural moves in, the best defense might just be a good sense of humor.
