illionaire Frederick Loren (Price) has a startling proposition for the
five strangers invited to his wife's party: $10,000 for each of them if
they agree to spend the night in a reputedly haunted house. The catch? They
have to live until morning.
Watson Pritchard (Cook) knows to be afraid. His brother was one of seven
people murdered in the house. But he needs the money, so he agrees to join
the others, who include
test pilot Lance Schroeder (Long), columnist Ruth Bridgers (Julie Mitchum),
psychiatrist David Trent (Marshal) and typist Nora Manning (Carolyn
Craig). The only other guest--besides Pritchard's ghosts--is Loren's estranged
wife, Annabelle (Ohmart), who has her own reasons for hosting the
party.
Pritchard gives the others a tour of the house. "There's been a murder
in almost every place in this house," he says ominously. He shows them the
wine cellar, in which a vat of acid still bubbles--the scene of previous
gruesome killings.
During their wanderings, young Nora gets separated from the intrepid Lance, and she thinks she sees a ghost. Then Lance gets knocked out by an
unseen assailant. Trent dismisses Nora's visions as hysteria. But after a few more scares, Annabelle confides in Nora: "You're in danger. We all
are."
Before Nora can leave, the doors are locked and sealed--at the stroke of midnight--by the caretakers. That's when Loren unveils his "party favors,"
pistols for each guest delivered in little coffins. But Pritchard isn't reassured. Guns won't be much defense against the undead, he warns. True enough.
Nora screams when she discovers Annabelle's corpse, hanging
from the stairwell. Is there a killer stalking the hallways? Or is
Pritchard right?
"You're all invited."
House on Haunted Hill (1958) is perhaps the best-known work of
director and producer William Castle, renowned as the P.T.
Barnum of film promotion. He sold life insurance policies at screenings of
1958's Macabre (in case viewers were frightened to death) and even
wired seats to deliver electric shocks at showings of 1959's The
Tingler. But how does Castle's work hold up now? The answer is: surprisingly well.
House, though mild by today's standards, still has genuine
shocks and real creepiness, as well as Price's sinister performance. And
the plot is ingenious enough for filmmakers Joel Silver and Bob Zemeckis to
have preserved many of its key elements in their 1999 remake.
(An interesting trivia note: The house's exteriors are those of the
Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Ennis-Brown House in Hollywood. One wonders if
that is part of the film's attraction to Silver, a well-known Wright
aficionado and preservationist.)
House is one of the earliest films to pull together the
conventions of the haunted-house thriller, from cobwebbed chandeliers
and blood-dripping ceilings to gaslit hallways and dank basements.
Still, the film shows its age in its clunky exposition, stilted dialogue
and stagy acting. Now, the best reason to watch the movie is its campiness.
There is a lot to laugh at, most of it unintentional, including the film's
lurid melodrama and crude special effects. In particular, Price's testy
sparring with Ohmart challenges viewers to decide who's bitchier.
