I'm hardly the first to say it, but memory is a funny thing. I taped this film off of TCM several years ago, and while the film largely struck me as average, the ending haunted me so profoundly that it left a lasting impact on my own work as a writer. I later imported a DVD copy from the UK on the strength of that final scene alone, but I kept putting off re-watching it due to the weaknesses of the story as a whole. Perhaps, too, there was some trepidation at seeing the ending again. I had a built it up so much in my mind that surely the last scene could never live up to my memory. Finally I cast aside my doubts and, having forgotten just about everything except the finale (and the fact that someone gets stabbed in the penis - ouch!), gave it a second shot.
So much has happened between my first viewing and my second that the experienced proved to be profoundly different. I've become much more receptive to different kinds of cinema - so receptive, in fact, that people probably don't trust my opinions. That ship usually sails the minute you start recommending Andy Milligan movies. Anyway, I really enjoyed the film this time. Essentially it's the story of some bored twenty-somethings (and Frankie Avalon, for some strange reason) leaving a lame party and going to check out an allegedly haunted house. Over the course of the night, one of their number gets murdered, and with only one possible entrance to the house having been locked, the only explanation is that one of them is the culprit.
Writer/director Michael Armstrong initially intended to make a much more psychedelic horror movie starring his pal David Bowie. The producers balked on Bowie (a move they no doubt came to regret) and forced Armstrong to take a more conventional approach. Even in its diluted form its still an impressive piece of work, with witty dialogue delivered by a capable cast (even Avalon seems shockingly at home in Swinging London), moody cinematography, a great location, and some well executed (and surprisingly bloody) murders. If the film makes one potentially fatal mistake, it's in spending too much time outside of the creepy abandoned house. Within the dusty ruin Armstrong and cinematographer Jack Atcheler are able to conjure an atmosphere reminiscent of the Italian Gothics. After the first murder, though, we spend a great deal of time back in the city as our heroes attempt to go on with their lives. Clearly the home is where the heart is with this movie, but Armstrong (or Gerry Levy, who rewrote much of the script at AIP's insistence) can only come up with a flimsy pretext to get the characters back there.
As for that ending? Of course it let me down to some extent. My mind had warped it over the years, and in a way my conception of it fused with the stories I myself had been inspired to write after watching it. Looking at it more objectively, though, the sympathy the filmmakers have for their tragic killer still strikes a chord with me, and the final image is still strangely poignant. Perhaps the film isn't an exceptional murder mystery - more than a few clichés are accounted for - but it's nonetheless an entertaining and skillfully directed one. Certainly it's no classic, but it's far better than its 4.5 rating on IMDb would lead you to believe.
So much has happened between my first viewing and my second that the experienced proved to be profoundly different. I've become much more receptive to different kinds of cinema - so receptive, in fact, that people probably don't trust my opinions. That ship usually sails the minute you start recommending Andy Milligan movies. Anyway, I really enjoyed the film this time. Essentially it's the story of some bored twenty-somethings (and Frankie Avalon, for some strange reason) leaving a lame party and going to check out an allegedly haunted house. Over the course of the night, one of their number gets murdered, and with only one possible entrance to the house having been locked, the only explanation is that one of them is the culprit.
Writer/director Michael Armstrong initially intended to make a much more psychedelic horror movie starring his pal David Bowie. The producers balked on Bowie (a move they no doubt came to regret) and forced Armstrong to take a more conventional approach. Even in its diluted form its still an impressive piece of work, with witty dialogue delivered by a capable cast (even Avalon seems shockingly at home in Swinging London), moody cinematography, a great location, and some well executed (and surprisingly bloody) murders. If the film makes one potentially fatal mistake, it's in spending too much time outside of the creepy abandoned house. Within the dusty ruin Armstrong and cinematographer Jack Atcheler are able to conjure an atmosphere reminiscent of the Italian Gothics. After the first murder, though, we spend a great deal of time back in the city as our heroes attempt to go on with their lives. Clearly the home is where the heart is with this movie, but Armstrong (or Gerry Levy, who rewrote much of the script at AIP's insistence) can only come up with a flimsy pretext to get the characters back there.
As for that ending? Of course it let me down to some extent. My mind had warped it over the years, and in a way my conception of it fused with the stories I myself had been inspired to write after watching it. Looking at it more objectively, though, the sympathy the filmmakers have for their tragic killer still strikes a chord with me, and the final image is still strangely poignant. Perhaps the film isn't an exceptional murder mystery - more than a few clichés are accounted for - but it's nonetheless an entertaining and skillfully directed one. Certainly it's no classic, but it's far better than its 4.5 rating on IMDb would lead you to believe.