There is a mansion that appears to be haunted. The owner sends a team to spend a week there and investigate. Is the fortress-like structure actually haunted? If so, by whom? And how do I get rid of it so I can use it as a time share? The team consists of a scientist (Clive Revill), his wife (Gayle Hunnicut), a spiritual medium (Pamela Franklin), and the only survivor of the previous investigative team (Roddy McDowell).
They aren't there long before strange things begin happening, and not little things either. The table jumps up and down, chandeliers fall, cats attack humans, Revill's electromagnetic sensors go ape, there is are constant moaning sounds sometimes coalescing into something resembling speech, people walk in their sleep, and who knows what all. Not that any of these potentially lethal goings on especially bother the team. When a poltergeist turns the dining room into a shambles, they treat it like a minor irritation, and blame each other.
There are arguments among the team members. Is it one restless spirit causing the commotion, or is it a case of multiple hauntings? Revill decides it's one power and that the electromagnetic radiation of the house is behind everything. It needs cleansing by having its polarity reversed by Revill's imported electronic junk.
The junk fails to dispel the spirit and Pamela Franklin is offed by a toppling crucifix. Revill himself is perforated by candles. Gayle Hunnicut and Roddy McDowall huddle together in fear but McDowall decides to face the power mano a mano, or pneuma a pneuma, in the chapel, the most profane room in the palace. The power belongs to just one man, known to history as "the roaring giant" because he was six and a half feet tall.
It's a brutal encounter. Hunnicut cowers against the chapel wall while McDowall is overwhelmed by shrieking noises and blasts of wind that slam him against the pillars. Still, McDowall wins. And here's how he wins -- he insults the spirit to death by screaming that the so-called roaring giant was really SHORT! The spirit departs in low dudgeon. I swear I'm not making that up.
Richard Matheson was a fine writer but serious stories of spooky mansions weren't his forte. This is Shirley Jackson territory. Her novel, "The Haunting of Hill House", was published in 1959 and several films were so closely modeled on it that it's no surprise Matheson followed the trend. Even a dog walks for salsa.
But, in truth, as much as I respect Matheson, and have always held this cast in high regard, the movie is spooky only in the most shallow way. Cliché follows cliché. And the logic behind the story is recondite, lost in the ominous shadows that lurk just beyond the range of the candelabras. (The lights go out early on.) The movie is relentlessly gloomy and weighty. Every single scene is underlighted -- and only a few minutes are spent outdoors under a lowering sky. Extensive use is made of the fish eye lens, turning human faces into gargoyles during the numerous close ups. When one of the ladies screams, a dentist would be interested in the revealed fillings in her lower left quadrant. McDowall throws a spastic fit in front of the fireplace at one point for no discernible reason except that nothing dramatic has happened for a while.
The film is in desperate need of comic relief -- maybe a drunken butler -- but there is none. On the plus side, at least for the males, there is Pamela Franklin, young and soft, with tender teen-aged breast, sensibly mauled by one of the spirits. Franklin also yields to the importunities of the spirit and allows him or it to become intimate with her after a brief nude scene. But don't get your spirits up. It's about as dignified as simulated intercourse and a fake orgasm with an invisible spirit can get.
Gayle Hunnicut isn't a teen ager. She doesn't have to be. Her wickedly thin nose alone compels veneration. At one point, possessed by whoever is doing all this nasty stuff, she reads a book on self eroticism, glides downstairs like a vampire, and puts moves on Roddy McDowall -- "You, me, and Florence; together, drunk, naked..." -- and what does McDowall do? He removes his hand from her breast, where she'd placed it, and slaps her into consciousness. It's not the house that needs treatment, if you ask me.
Anyway, it was a little disappointing. The fact is, there are too many movies out there about teams investigating haunted houses. "The Haunting" (1963) was one of the more successful. It doesn't overwhelm a viewer with special effects but it's scarier than this one.
They aren't there long before strange things begin happening, and not little things either. The table jumps up and down, chandeliers fall, cats attack humans, Revill's electromagnetic sensors go ape, there is are constant moaning sounds sometimes coalescing into something resembling speech, people walk in their sleep, and who knows what all. Not that any of these potentially lethal goings on especially bother the team. When a poltergeist turns the dining room into a shambles, they treat it like a minor irritation, and blame each other.
There are arguments among the team members. Is it one restless spirit causing the commotion, or is it a case of multiple hauntings? Revill decides it's one power and that the electromagnetic radiation of the house is behind everything. It needs cleansing by having its polarity reversed by Revill's imported electronic junk.
The junk fails to dispel the spirit and Pamela Franklin is offed by a toppling crucifix. Revill himself is perforated by candles. Gayle Hunnicut and Roddy McDowall huddle together in fear but McDowall decides to face the power mano a mano, or pneuma a pneuma, in the chapel, the most profane room in the palace. The power belongs to just one man, known to history as "the roaring giant" because he was six and a half feet tall.
It's a brutal encounter. Hunnicut cowers against the chapel wall while McDowall is overwhelmed by shrieking noises and blasts of wind that slam him against the pillars. Still, McDowall wins. And here's how he wins -- he insults the spirit to death by screaming that the so-called roaring giant was really SHORT! The spirit departs in low dudgeon. I swear I'm not making that up.
Richard Matheson was a fine writer but serious stories of spooky mansions weren't his forte. This is Shirley Jackson territory. Her novel, "The Haunting of Hill House", was published in 1959 and several films were so closely modeled on it that it's no surprise Matheson followed the trend. Even a dog walks for salsa.
But, in truth, as much as I respect Matheson, and have always held this cast in high regard, the movie is spooky only in the most shallow way. Cliché follows cliché. And the logic behind the story is recondite, lost in the ominous shadows that lurk just beyond the range of the candelabras. (The lights go out early on.) The movie is relentlessly gloomy and weighty. Every single scene is underlighted -- and only a few minutes are spent outdoors under a lowering sky. Extensive use is made of the fish eye lens, turning human faces into gargoyles during the numerous close ups. When one of the ladies screams, a dentist would be interested in the revealed fillings in her lower left quadrant. McDowall throws a spastic fit in front of the fireplace at one point for no discernible reason except that nothing dramatic has happened for a while.
The film is in desperate need of comic relief -- maybe a drunken butler -- but there is none. On the plus side, at least for the males, there is Pamela Franklin, young and soft, with tender teen-aged breast, sensibly mauled by one of the spirits. Franklin also yields to the importunities of the spirit and allows him or it to become intimate with her after a brief nude scene. But don't get your spirits up. It's about as dignified as simulated intercourse and a fake orgasm with an invisible spirit can get.
Gayle Hunnicut isn't a teen ager. She doesn't have to be. Her wickedly thin nose alone compels veneration. At one point, possessed by whoever is doing all this nasty stuff, she reads a book on self eroticism, glides downstairs like a vampire, and puts moves on Roddy McDowall -- "You, me, and Florence; together, drunk, naked..." -- and what does McDowall do? He removes his hand from her breast, where she'd placed it, and slaps her into consciousness. It's not the house that needs treatment, if you ask me.
Anyway, it was a little disappointing. The fact is, there are too many movies out there about teams investigating haunted houses. "The Haunting" (1963) was one of the more successful. It doesn't overwhelm a viewer with special effects but it's scarier than this one.