Review: Zak Bagans' Haunted Museum

Paranormal investigating has changed.

In the two decades I’ve been interested in the field, I’ve watched it go from something mildly respectable to being spearheaded by the equivalent of energetic game show hosts. Ghost Hunters, as we were once called, didn’t scream at every noise and not everything was a demonic entity. We approached every case with care, well-aware that some things had a tangible source not rooted in the otherworldly.

It’s become the norm that something associated with death is instantly a cursed object, linked to and shrouded in potentially deadly darkness. It’s an idea that you need to have a grasp of before stepping into Zak Bagans' The Haunted Museum in Las Vegas, NV.

Primarily because it’s the basis of every cramped room you enter.

So much of Bagans’ House of Horrors contains items that could be haunted because of their history, but there is no real connection to the supernatural to indicate something remotely paranormal. So many of the artifacts amount to having a vague association with death. Ted Bundy sneezed on this handkerchief, so his spirit must be attached. The museum is full of this kind of stuff, from serial killer memorabilia to real skeletons that may or may not be the people guests are told they are. It’s an illogical approach, but one that Zak and the Ghost Adventures team loves to hinge on, so I knew it would be waiting for me inside. I was prepared with my grain of salt.

The real problem with a venue like Bagans'paranormal museum is that, for so many of the well-rehearsed stories, we have to assume they’re true. It’s not like viewing a fragment of the Great Pyramid of Egypt, where we can follow the trail of historian research and view the scientifically-verified chemical makeup of the rock. Everything contained within the haunted history museum is linked to personal experiences that didn’t always line up with the multiple retellings.

There were discrepancies in a few tales, specifically that of “Lilly,” the German doll with human hair. Waiting to get into the Bagans' House, we’re treated to interviews pertaining to some of the objects contained within the museum. Lilly was one of them, and the story told on the recording varied a bit from what the guide spouted. Even slight discrepancies like a change in the sex of any party involved hinder the credibility of the story. It becomes a game of telephone, where the details are muddied to a damning degree. Ultimately, the stories only exist to set a spooky tone and it would be best to let a prerecorded interview tell the story to keep facts from getting jumbled.

To Zak’s credit, there is an incredible amount of stuff in the museum. However, there is a major design flaw with the tour - you’re not given the time to look at so much of it. I’ve never been ushered through exhibits in a “historical” attraction so fast before. There were a lot of interesting artifacts in Zak’s playground of weirdness, but we were intended to only pay attention to a selection of rarities like Charles Manson’s bone fragments and Dr. Kevorkian’s Death Van and the terrifyingly dull Dybbuk Box (I’ll get to this in a minute). Of course, they’re the items that best play into that earlier established concept that a connection with death automatically means it’s linked to the supernatural. Unfortunately, some of the star attractions weren’t even the most visually engaging.

There was more I wanted to see and more I wished I could focus on, but between the dim lighting and rushed nature of the guided tour, it was impossible to really grasp a lot of the smaller trinkets. They may have been nothing, but they looked cool and odd and would have made for a more rewarding visual treat, unlike, say, Ted Bundy’s decoy glasses.

I passed by entire display cases of interesting looking stuff that my mind couldn’t register (or take photos of...) because it was so important that I focus my attention on Bela Lugosi’s “haunted mirror.” Which, by the by, was displayed in such a theatrical manner that I fully expected a Lugosi look-a-like to pop out when the curtain on the mirror was drawn back. There was also Ed Gein’s cauldron, which the serial killer used to gut his victims over. Mull that over for a moment, and then imagine that very same cauldron displayed in a barn facade put together by the set designers of American Horror Story. It’s all so showy and has that coating of Vegas insincerity.

Quite frankly, that was really the crux of Bagans' venue - the theatrics and lack of respect. Nothing was handled in a considerate manner, at least not in a way you would expect someone so deeply rooted in the paranormal would handle these items. Let’s go back to the Dybbuk Box. It was elevated on a pedestal, encased in glass, and surrounded by the most ridiculous facade of what appeared to be a dilapidated basement? As you’re staring at this “incredibly dangerous” haunted object, a spooky soundtrack plays to set the mood. Keep in mind the Dybbuk Box is said to be a murder box responsible for causing misery and the loss of life. Much like Gein's cauldron, the Dybbuk Box is nothing but a showpiece.

That’s like putting a fragment of a World War II battleship in a room where the Indiana Jones soundtrack is playing. War movies are exciting. The reality of war is not. Ghost hunting is depicted by Bagans and countless Amazon Prime movies as something that’s spooky. The reality is that it’s not, and the museum gave the allure that everything is just part of a show. Even the museum itself felt more like a haunted attraction than a building intended to respect those affected by the items contained within. It’s evident that respect for even the concept of an afterlife is absolutely not in Bagans' wheelhouse.

None of this even touches on the operational issues. You wait for a considerable amount of time on three different lines, have to read and recite the “liability waiver” on multiple occasions (again, playing up that Vegas show aspect), and are crammed into tight rooms, to a point where it’s almost like you’re not meant to be able to see everything comfortably.

The building is designed and built to make you feel off-balance and harsh smells are intentionally pumped throughout. You’re meant to feel the effects of this and assume something is attaching itself to you. The guides are ecstatic to talk about guests that have fainted, claiming it was something supernatural. It's all to amplify this notion that you're not safe from the invisible forces that course through the old building on Charleston Boulevard.

That force, by the way, is deception, and it's so expertly fueled by the museum's guides.

Feel something tugging at your hair? Don’t bother asking the tour guide to take a look. They’ll give you the most supernatural answer possible. I witnessed a guest in my group ask if her hair was snagged on her strap after feeling it being tugged on. The guide pointed the flashlight at the back of her neck and very confidently said no. From about 6-feet back, I could clearly see where her hair was snagged and that it was being pulled on by her bra strap even as the guide "inspected" it.

I don’t appreciate dishonesty for the sake of deception, especially for a topic as sensitive as the paranormal. I get it, not everyone is a believer, and to their credit, even I go back and forth on wondering if it’s just a fantasy from my childhood or if there really is something strange in the neighborhood.

Regardless of which way the wind blows for me, though, I always approach the subject with respect. Bagans approaches it as a meal ticket, and the museum is just another fine example of this. When you think about how many people are emotionally affected by their belief in ghosts and demons, that I spent $44 to tour a showy museum of the afterlife really leaves a bad taste in my mouth.