The Legend of Hell House
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

In Richard Matheson's screen adaptation of his novel, Hell House, we're talking serious ghosts. Once upon a time, there was a brilliant, wealthy guy by the name of Emeric Belasco. Emeric was a party guy and he built a great big house to host his parties in. Never mind that Emeric was into just about every debauched and depraved sport there was, never mind that some of his guests weren't willing participants in his parties, and never mind that he never got into any legal trouble because of his "festivities" (only in England...). Emeric was beyond bohemian. He wanted to taste all of life's fruit, no matter how ugly or bitter. After Emeric's death, his shame-faced family shut the house up and tried to pretend it, and Emeric, never existed.

Years later, along comes rich Mr. Deutsch, a nasty old man who is at death's door and wants proof that his sour existence will go on. He snaps up Belasco House (coyly nicknamed Hell House) from the impoverished Belasco family and hires physicist Dr. Lionel Barrett (Clive Revill) to investigate. Rumor has it that something continues to live in Hell House. Deutsch wants proof of life after death. So he dispatches Barrett along with a couple of his own hires for a week in the decrepit house.

Along for this ride is Ann Barrett (Gayle Hunnicutt), who'd rather go with her husband to a house of very dubious repute than be alone. They are joined by Florence Tanner (Pamela Franklin), a gifted and young, if na‹ve, psychic, and Ben Fischer (Roddy McDowall), the only survivor of such a trip fifteen years before. Seems Fischer and his party met something in the house that wasn't too friendly. Fischer managed to crawl away from the experience, only to spend the next decade working to reclaim his sanity.

At this point, you ask, "Why are they doing this?" Given the house's reputation and history of two previous groups who attempted to solve its mystery, most sane people would take a step back and politely decline. But Barrett is too stubborn and too much of a scientist to admit that there could be something to the stories. Ann is, well, a dishrag. Florence is too innocent to realize what she's getting into. And Fischer wants to face his greatest fear and put it behind him.

The ghost (ghosts?) of Hell House don't waste any time in making their presence known. They are quite vigorous -- screaming, yelling, throwing things and people around, possessing mammals, and the like. About the time I found a dead cat in my shower, I'd be grabbing my coat and hat and heading for the door. Why don't these people do the sensible thing? All I can think is that they're British. Stiff upper lip and all that. Not about to compromise their Anglo pride and run shrieking from a mansion, even if that's what the rest of us would do.

The ghosts also start affecting the visitor's personalities. Barrett becomes a raving paranoid, his wife becomes a raving nymphomaniac, and Florence becomes... just plain raving. Convinced that there is an innocent spirit being held hostage by a stronger, malevolent entity, she opens herself up completely. Including, but not restricted to, some spectral nookie. The only one who manages to keep a grip is Fischer. Traumatized by his previous sojourn and all too aware of what the house is capable of, he has shut his psychic powers off. While this frustrates his colleagues to no end, he turns out to be the smartest cookie of the batch.

Very reminiscent of the American International and Hammer Films of the same era, The Legend Of Hell House wastes no time in grabbing your attention (by the hair) and dragging you, kicking and screaming, along for a terrifying ride. While you never actually see a ghost, you most definitely see what the ghost(s) can do. And it isn't pretty. This house, like it's creator, wants to get down and get funky. Welcome to Hell, ladies and gentlemen. Let's party.

DROOL FACTOR: I have to come clean here. The big draw for me, in my youth, was Roddy McDowall. He was yummy, in a nebbish way. All big brown eyes and nervous ticks. Here he is the geek guy that geek girls dream of.

GROSS-OUT FACTOR: Buckets of blood, plus lots of unseemly behavior. A little harsh language just to drive home the point that Emeric wasn't a swell guy.

STRONG CHICK FACTOR: Alas, none. Ann is too drippy and Florence is too dippy. You want to admire her spunk, but after a while, you want to slap some sense into her. The place is haunted, sweetheart, by something Very Bad. Grab your Peter Pan collars and get the hell out!

-- Carrie Rock

Hell House is currently available on video.

We welcome your comments on The 11th Hour and this review. Please send letters to: letters@the11thhour.com