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HOUSE OF TERROR (1973)
Directed by Sergei Goncharoff
Trans World Entertainment VHS
Reviewed 04.17.08
Review by Joseph A. Ziemba
THE FILM
Four minutes in heaven are better
than none. I guess.
Hey Sergei! What the hell happened?
House Of Terror had the
Mozart piano-ing, the artsy camera
fluxus, the black cloak, the blood...two
minutes of potent trash bliss. Two
blinks later, I found myself battling
sleep. And like most battles, this
one was not to end overnight. Still,
things did perk up after the suicide.
Does that sound bad?
A fellow with a striking sense of
style (white hair, black mustache;
white sweater, black dickie) hires
a nurse to look after his ratty
nutcase of a wife. They all live
in a spooky mansion. Rants. Peep
holes. Raggedy Andy violence. Then,
the nurse's boyfriend shows up.
He pretty much rules. An ex-convict
fresh outta the joint, this Eastwood-channeling
fool pumps gas for a living, lives
in a borrowed house, and mistakes
sex for compromise. Naturally, the
nurse nails him, then agrees to
partake of a murderous scheme against
Mr. Black And White. Suicide. Twist.
Zonks. After 85 minutes of this
soap opera pap, the final two minutes
recalled the glory of the initial
two minutes. Subsequently, my four
minutes were up.
House Of Terror may elicit
the contextual warmth of Asylum
Of Satan and Don't
Go In The Basement, but the
heart has gone missing. Where the
sinister homes in those movies were
bolstered with the lo-fi fingerprints
of their respective filmmakers (William
Girdler and S.F. Brownrigg), House
is a one-shot rub with zero personality.
Except for those four minutes. Sure,
a few zingers surface from time
to time (suicide, Orgy
Of The Dead score outtakes
from Jaime Mendoza-Nava, dogs constantly
barking), but mostly, the film is
deadened, claustrophobic, and rife
with conversation. And thanks to
that lack of personality, none of
those things are all that interesting.
Where is Renee Harmon when we really
need her?
Four minutes in heaven are better...nevermind.
I guessed wrong.
AUDIO AND VIDEO
We be blurry and muffled, with some
superb knife-to-the-eye cover art.
Yes, that never happens in the movie.
EXTRAS
Call the cops! Some a-hole removed
all the stickers from my tape!
FINAL THOUGHTS
Look. If you can find time in your
life for the obscure ‘n’
boring House Of Terror,
rewards will be few. But, I’ll
tell you what. If anyone out there
can get me a copy of Renee Harmon’s
impossibly rare Night Of Terror,
I will personally provide him or
her with a DVD-R of House Of
Terror’s good four minutes.
TERROR-SWAP! LET’S DO IT!! |
Smoove
H.O.T.S. V
Over the line
2/4
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