The House Where Evil Dwells

This generally above-average horror entry is rather familiar plot-wise and, near the end, devolves - after a silly "exorcism" sequence - into a martial-arts actioner! But it offers some intriguing ideas, some creepy sound effects, a graphically bloody, and gripping, opening sequence and a surprisingly grim conclusion. It could've used a more talented leading man, though. (**)

This could have been interesting – a Japan-set haunted house story from the viewpoint of a newly-installed American family – but falls flat due to an over-simplified treatment and the unsuitability of both cast and director.

The film suffers from the same problem I often encounter with the popular modern renaissance of such native fare, i.e. the fact that the spirits demonstrate themselves to be evil for no real reason other than that they're expected to! Besides, it doesn't deliver much in the scares department – a giant crab attack is merely silly – as, generally, the ghosts inhabit a specific character and cause him or her to act in a totally uncharacteristic way, such as Susan George seducing diplomat/friend-of-the-family Doug McClure and Edward Albert force-feeding his daughter a bowl of soup!

At one point, an old monk turns up at the house to warn Albert of the danger if they remain there – eventually, he's called upon to exorcise the premises. However, history is bound to repeat itself and tragedy is the only outcome of the tense situation duly created – leading to a violent yet unintentionally funny climax in which Albert and McClure, possessed by the spirits of their Japanese predecessors, engage in an impromptu karate duel to the death! At the end of the day, this emerges an innocuous time-waster – tolerable at just 88 minutes but, in no way, essential viewing.

Director Kevin Connor and wannabe action-hero / romantic lead Doug McClure, re-team in this ghost story set in Japan. They had been moderately successful together in the 1970's, with the likes of 'The Land that Time Forgot' (1975), 'At the Earth's Core' (1976) etc. Without plastic monsters to carry the narrative along though, the results are shabby and derivative in the most corny way.

The film begins with a prologue set in the 19th Century, with a samurai husband killing his wife and her lover before committing suicide. A move forward to the present introduces married couple Ted & Laura, visiting Japan and moving in to the house where the tragedy took place.

No surprises as to what happens next, with the spirits of the dead starting to take over the new inhabitants with family friend Alex (McClure) assuming the role of the wife's lover.

Everything rumbles clumsily along with the elegance and grace of a charging elephant, to an inevitable ( but surprisingly downbeat ) conclusion. Main points of interest are two feeble decapitations ( 'The Omen' has a lot to answer for in promoting this as a standard horror set-piece ), and the love-making scenes featuring the doe-eyed but extremely kinky Susan George. The first is a long 'Don't Look Now' inspired piece with her hubby, complete with piano music; the second a much shorter (probably at her insistence) entanglement with McClure, both looking pretty uncomfortable. Anyway, every cloud has a silver lining and both scenes show of her fantastic knockers so all is not lost.

Overall I can't decide whether 'The House where Evil Dwells' is rubbish, watchable rubbish, or entertaining in a masochistic kind of way. If you're not into the genre there is nothing here at all, but for horror fans there is probably enough to provoke the odd rye smile and appreciative nod of respect for effort.

BEST SCENE - in any other film the big, black, tree-climbing, Japanese-muttering mechanical crabs would have stolen the show. They are eclipsed though by the legendary family meal scene, where a ghostly head appears in the daughters soup. On seeing this apparition she asks what kind of soup it is (!!!!), to be told beef and vegetable, before uttering the immortal line "Ugh - there's an awful face in my soup". If this wasn't enough the reply is "C'mon, eat your soup for Daddy." Laurel & Hardy rest in piece.

I last saw The House Where Evil Dwells on VHS, unaware that the beginning and the ending had suffered from a total of 34 seconds of cuts, removing the film's bloody decapitations and dismemberment (thanks BBFC!). No wonder I found it so underwhelming. Having just watched the film uncut, I can verify that the gory scenes that bookend the film are easily the highlights, although the sight of Susan George naked and a crab attack are also fairly memorable for different reasons.

The excellent opening scene, set in the middle of the 19th century, sees a samurai returning home to find his wife in the arms of another man. Sword in hand, the wronged warrior bursts into the house and slaughters the lovers, before committing hara-kiri (ritual suicide).

Cut to the present day: American magazine writer Ted Fletcher (Edward Albert), his wife Laura (Susan George, looking as lovely as always) and their daughter Amy (Amy Barrett) arrive in Japan, where friend Alex Curtis (Doug McClure) has arranged a house for them to live in while Ted writes an article. No prizes for guessing that it's the same house where the samurai went kill crazy with his katana, that the ghosts of all three dead people still haunt the building, or that history is about to repeat itself.

With superimposed spooks in bad make-up orchestrating Rentaghost-style supernatural occurrences, much of The House Where Evil Dwells is unmitigated cheeze, moderately entertaining for its sheer silliness. Director Kevin Connor gave us the excellent Amicus anthology From Beyond the Grave (1974) and that classic of the macabre, Motel Hell (1980), but let's not forget that he also gave us those campy craptastic fantasy flicks The Land That Time Forgot , At The Earth's Core, and Warlords of Atlantis (also starring the mighty Doug McClure). The House Where Evil Dwells is more camp than classic.

Household objects move by themselves, the ghosts possess the living to make them behave uncharacteristically, Laura sleeps with Alex (giving George another opportunity to shed her clothes), Amy is attacked by crabs, including two oversized clockwork crustaceans that can climb trees, and Ted witnesses an incident involving a samurai sword that would have had me saying 'Sayonara' and hopping on the next bullet train outta there.

Connor wraps thing up as expected, with Laura telling Ted about her infidelity, which leads to a wonderfully daft finale in which Albert and McClure do bad martial arts, before Ted lops off his old friend's noggin, stabs Laura with his sword, and kills himself.

Over a century ago a samurai kills his wife and her lover before committing suicide, so it moves to modern times where a Western family moves in to the home where it happened. Soon they find themselves under the influence of these spirits. After a beautifully presented opening consisting of tragedy, this haunted house tale just never gets off the ground becoming quite uneventful (as it seems to lull about) with its lightly scripted narrative and randomly silly supernatural circumstances (rambling crabs?!). Even from what develops, it shows a real lack of reasoning about certain characters' judgements. Its frenzied finale is risible, but effectively executed. However at least it was brave to go out on a powerfully bleak note. Director Kevin Connor resourcefully sets it up with certain crispness thanks to the lyrical shape of the camera-work and the pacing is rather restrained with its slow-burn styling. The exotically picturesque Japanese backdrop projects another dimension to the fold. But there's no disguising its formulaic nature and stage-bound set, despite its change of culture and folklore. Although I did like how the malevolently restless spirits manifested, waltz, conspire and interacted with the occupants of the house. Where they went about trying to repeat the re-enactment of their own harrowing ordeal. How they go about pulling their stings is toying around with possessions, manifestations and causing a mess by throwing things about. The cast is dependable, but sometimes look a bit out of sorts. Susan George remains pleasing, but Edward Albert and Doug McClure (who had work with director Connor many times before) are practical with their performances. It should have promised much more than what transpired, but this handsome production consisted of strange ideas amongst its standard clichés.

"I hate this house!".