All the warning signs were there. The crabby old woman who owns the house but hides in the attic. Mason, the high school kid who handles the actual renting out of the rooms who is so creepy you hope he is only a perverted peeper. The room for rent that he ominously announces used to be his sister’s. Based on the available data there’s at least a 75% chance anyone staying at that house is going to be either skinned alive, eaten or held prisoner to be some inbred mutant’s sex toy.

So why would sexy college girl Scotty still rent a room there? Because it’s $50 a month! That’s a damn good deal in any housing market, let alone a university town with a shortage of housing! Continue reading “The Silent Scream (1979)” →

Long thought lost, The Ghoul resurfaces in its complete form some seventy years after audiences were first bored to tears by it.

Starring Boris Karloff, this is an old time monster snooze-a-rama of the first degree with scintillating scenes of groups of characters standing around yakking at one another, faulty comic relief, limited playing time by the star, and an emphasis on dreary dialogue and static camera work over everything else. While things manage to come alive a bit for the ending, since it all involves a bunch of goofs fighting over an ugly broach, even that wasn’t enough to save this creaky contraption of life-after-death mumbo jumbo. Continue reading “The Ghoul (1933)” →