If we live long enough, we won’t be spared from seeing the misfortunes of old age sneak into our bodies, unmercifully deteriorating the things — like healthy hair and intact teeth — we once took for granted. A mean-spirited, gross-out hagsploitation exercise co-written by first-time directors Max and Sam Eggers (brothers of the contemporary horror master Robert Eggers, with whom Max wrote “The Lighthouse”), “ The Front Room ” will only be tolerable if you find those aging-related hardships — incontinence, being chief among them — spooky and funny. Otherwise, with the exception of “The Tragedy of Macbeth” Oscar nominee Kathryn Hunter ’s fiercely committed performance, much of this well-designed but boring film yields a shrug.

Hunter delivers a masterful performance as Solange, a disagreeable elderly woman who imposes herself not on another person's body (despite numerous hints, “The Front Room” doesn't focus on possession-related horror), but into the home of her stepson Norman (Andrew Burnap) and his heavily pregnant wife Belinda (a convincing Brandy Norwood ). With her strong Southern beliefs, evident in her repeatedly insulting remarks towards Belinda, Solange is undeniably racist. However, what truly unsettles Norman and Belinda about this excessively religious woman isn't her hateful views, but her inability to control her bladder and bowels.

Perhaps they have a valid point. Solange's urine and feces are found throughout various parts of their house, and the filmmakers don't shy away from showing this visually. The stains are everywhere, even on Belinda's hands, phone, and clothing. (In one scene, she stubbornly refuses to change her soiled shirt for an extended period, a deliberate decision that further emphasizes the film's focus on gross-out elements.)

The obvious question arises: why not place Solange in a suitable facility? The answer lies in a deal Solange proposes to her stepson Norman and his pregnant wife Belinda. They are to provide her with a home during the final phase of her life, and in return, they will inherit her substantial wealth. Norman and Belinda find themselves in a predicament. They desperately need the money. Their old house, skillfully designed by set decorator Lauren Crawford and production designer Mary Lena Colston, is falling apart, with deteriorating wallpaper and bare furnishings. Belinda's academic career prospects are also bleak in a competitive field that often overlooks deserving candidates. It seems practical to tolerate the inconveniences and religious fanaticism Solange brings into their lives for a chance at financial security.

Belinda soon discovers that her troubles are more significant than she initially anticipated. Norman, lacking courage, often leaves her to deal with Solange's constant problems. Solange announces every incontinence accident with a loud “M-E-double-S” or a piercing whistle, and walks around the house with two canes, resembling a multi-legged insect. Hunter again delivers a remarkable performance, vividly depicting Solange's unpleasant physical and auditory characteristics with impressive detail.

The film often feels too immature and superficial, even offensive, to warrant her ambitious presence. There's a reason the subgenre is called "hagsploitation," which can also be used for recent and far superior films like "X" and "Barbarian." The label allows creators to exploit our innate fears of what might physically and mentally become of us (as women) in the later stages of our lives. The problem is, "The Front Room" fails to do anything clever with this concept, settling for merely disturbing our stomachs.

Despite numerous hints throughout the film (and its marketing campaign), "The Front Room" never truly delivers on its promise of being a genuine horror film. It lacks genuine scares, and the closest it comes to the horror genre is through the writers' uninspired references to classic horror films. For instance, the "Psycho" nod is obvious when Solange's voice on the phone murmurs, "Hello Norman, this is your mother." And "Rosemary's Baby" is also spelled out before your eyes in capital letters when a group of eerie-looking white people creepily fawn over Belinda's bump. However, these nods are ultimately insignificant, partly due to their simplistic and unserious nature, and partly because the writers refrain from exploring them in any meaningful way.

Instead of offering a chilling supernatural experience, “The Front Room” focuses on the unsettling reality of aging and its physical challenges. It depicts a deteriorating elderly woman, presented as a monstrously awful mother-in-law, with no subtlety in its portrayal. Belinda's racial identity and the subtle microaggressions she faces also receive shallow treatment. While the film features atmospheric background music from Mozart and Chopin, and utilizes effective montages that juxtapose Belinda's newborn baby's needs against Solange's demands for care, the insightful moments end there. The film ultimately feels gruesome and unrewarding.