La nuit de la peur

It takes special kind of psycho to deliberately target disabled people for not being perfect; while regular movie maniacs tend to reserve their rage for healthy victims (often teenagers in the prime of their life), the killer in The Spiral Staircase has it in for those with physical impairments. Having already bumped off several handicapped people (the latest being a blind woman), the loony sets their sights on pretty mute Helen (Jacqueline Bisset), who has been unable to speak since a fire tragically claimed the lives of her husband and daughter.

A remake of the 1946 movie of the same name, this 1975 version is primarily set in a remote country house during a thunderstorm that frequently threatens to wipe out the power and plunge the film's raft of disparate characters into darkness: in addition to Helen, the building's occupants are Professor Sherman (Christopher Plummer), his sexy Southern secretary Blanche (Gayle Hunnicutt), the prof's mother (Mildred Dunnock) and younger brother Steven (John Phillip Law), Mrs Sherman's nurse (Elaine Stritch), handyman Oates (Ronald Radd) and his drunken wife (Sheila Brennan).

Despite the creepy local, the stormy setting, plenty of suspects, victims and red herrings, and the delightfully perverse notion of a killer targeting the most defenceless, The Spiral Staircase is actually about as thrilling as Professor Sherman's line of expertise: management skills (yawn!). Director Peter Collinson (The Italian Job) fails to generate any tension, boredom being the most likely emotion experienced by viewers as the thunder crashes, the rain pours, and no-one in the house gets killed for almost an entire hour. When the murders do begin, they are poorly staged and totally devoid of gore-definitely not worth the excruciatingly dull wait.

For a much more suspenseful film about a disabled woman being threatened by a homicidal maniac, watch Blind Terror, AKA See No Evil (1971), starring Mia Farrow, or even Eyes of a Stranger (1981) with Jennifer Jason Leigh ('nuff said!).

One would think a film showcasing the beauty and talent of Jacqueline Bisset would at least rate a 7. Well this doesn't. Not even the fine supporting cast can save it. The film moves too slowly to build any suspense. In fact, it is quite dull. Curiously, the movie was filmed in England but they try hard to make it lookije the USA. WHY?

To make things worse, the film stars that store mannequin, John Phillip Law. Ugh.

The highlight is Elaine Stritch. She has the best lines and provides much needed comic relief. Unfortunately, there isn't enough of her.

Even though this review is long enough, imdb is requiring 600 characters now. What are we supposed to do? Describe every scene?

I was surprised when I learned that "The Spiral Staircase" was a remake of an earlier movie, and that it's been remade since. The movie is actually little that we haven't seen before: disabled - in this case mute - woman (Jacqueline Bisset) suspects that someone is trying to kill her, she moves in with family, and there's eventually a big showdown. And the ending was pretty anticlimactic; at one point, you can basically tell what's going to happen.

However, there was one thing that I derived from the movie. Christopher Plummer's character in one scene talks about no tolerance for imperfection. We in the 21st century have taken that to the extreme. We want everyone made up so that they all look the same, we go for style over substance, and more. Then again, I'm probably reading too far into the movie, as it was most likely intended as a straight thriller (although it doesn't really thrill).

Anyway, it's a mediocre way to pass time. Also starring Elaine Stritch and John Philip Law (the "Barbarella" angel).

I've only seen one other version of this story--Robert Siodmak's 1946 adaptation--but boy, does this one suffer by comparison. Whereas Siodmak's vision is suspenseful, atmospheric, and shadow-soaked, Collinson doesn't bring much to The Spiral Staircase apart from '70s made-for-TV cliches like crash-zooms and POV shots from the killer's perspective, with dreary cinematography straight out of an early episode of Columbo.

"GASP! Oh, it's only you! You startled me. Say, what are you doing down here? No...don't come any closer! No...no.... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" *gets murdered*

The performances are mediocre. Christopher Plummer is one of those actors who can turn in amazing work when he cares. Here, he doesn't seem to. Jacqueline Bissett is, frankly, quite forgettable in the lead role. When actors don't have dialogue to lean on, they sure had better be charismatic and expressive; as the mute Helen, the wooden Bissett is just not up to the challenge. Mildred Dunnock, as the family matriarch on her deathbed, is probably the strongest member of the cast.

What else is there to say? It's a mess, and not a very interesting one. Helen's backstory, in which her husband and daughter died in a fire, doesn't add up to much, and the flashbacks are so ridiculous they're hard to take seriously. The music is standard. I can't take pride in having guessed the identity of the killer early on, but I think I would have guessed it just as easily even had I not seen the 1946 version. The best idea in the movie is a sequence (I don't remember if this was included in prior versions and haven't read the novel) in which Helen, being stalked through the house by the now-unmasked killer, finds that Mrs. Oates, the housekeeper, is unable to help her--not because she is dead or incapacitated, but merely because she is too drunk to take the events seriously.

As a child, the 1946 version of this movie was one of the most terrifying I had ever seen...and I loved scary movies. Years later, it still scared the hell out of me. This re-make is a travesty. I don't know what the director and cinematographer were trying to achieve, but it wasn't The Spiral Staircase. Apologies to Christopher Plummer, Mildred Dunnock and Elaine Stritch for having to endure this drivel. Times must have been bad then and paychecks much needed. If you want to see a brilliant horror film, see the original.