southpatcher

Without mentioning the beautiful cinematography, the melancholy that lurks beneath the surface of all the characters' lives, the amazingly accurate production design, or the top-notch direction...this movie is a classic to me for one reason: Cloris Leachman's performance in the final scene. I think it's the single greatest "Telling Him Off" scene in film. I am absolutely spellbound by her work. In this final scene, she completely is this woman in the dingy bathrobe, with the uncombed hair and unkempt house. But the appearance is only the icing. The true strength of the performance comes from the words. Her voice is at first passive and compliant, but after a moment of awkward politeness, the coffee cup shakes in her hand, and She unleashes this woman's anger, hurt, frustration, and sadness not only for her failed affair with the young Timothy Bottoms, but for all the years of whatever disappointments she has known in this dying Texas town. The anger passes to calm and a resolution of sorts between herself and Bottoms develops, and she gently takes his hand. Just moments after unleashing her pent-up fury, she has again become a sort of surrogate mother to this messed up boy. Leachman seamlessly careens through a scale of emotions, culminating in one of the most deserved Oscar wins of all time. Yes folks, "Phyllis" really is a hell of an actress.

Showtime aired this howling dog of a flick Monday afternoon, and like a car accident, I knew I shouldn't look, but I couldn't turn away. It aired under it's alternate title "Haunted House of Horror", yet the house itself doesn't seem haunted, and the horrors (both of them) are not very horrifying. Despite some other comments about this movie, these characters are NOT teenagers! Frankie Avalon is already fighting middle age spread as the sole American in a cast of British never-heard-of's who split from a groovy mod party to a dusty deserted old house where naturally, a murder happens. And later another, and another...ending with a resolution that feels like the writer thought it up on the last day of filming.

The spookiest things in this movie don't even happen at the old house, and most involve the female cast. At the party, glum, chubby, bucktoothed Madge dances around with a feather boa, nicely displaying a big bruise (or birthmark) on her arm. Grim Suzanne, who's ended an affair with a strange older man, can't stay at the old house because she simply must go for coffee, and spends the entire movie looking disinterested (or perhaps constipated). Dorothy, the blonde with the panda eye makeup, and Sheila, the blonde with the massive hair are respectively the sweet waif and the cunning minx. Both are horribly miscast, although both Dorothy and Madge get nice little breakdown scenes. Madge's is especially moving. In a move that I'm sure won her a few supporting actress votes that year, she weeps, gnashes her teeth, lets her stringy hair fall into her face, and nearly rends the fringed hem of her blue party dress. Despite this glut of talented ladies, most of the supporting male cast are interchangable, in their staggering assortment of mismatched clothes, the exception being Gary, who forgets what movie he's in and seems to be auditioning for the road company of "Equus".

And then there's Frankie. What on earth possessed Frankie Avalon to ditch Annette on the beach and journey to England for this film? He even brought his 'Beach Party' hair with him. He sticks out like a sort thumb, and there's never a reason given for why these cool Brits hang out with this goon. I kept waiting for one of them (preferably Madge) to accidentally call him 'The Big Kahuna'.

The set designer for this film deserves a special honor for the sequential throw pillows that appear in Sheila's apartment. Each has a different design on it and when placed beside each other, they form a lovely image.

This movie is laugh-out-loud funny...too bad it's supposed to be a suspenseful horror film.