Another amazingly inept, woeful, howl inducing horror outing from producer William Mishkin and anti-genius Andy Milligan - again set in a big house, and again stuffed full of people unable to spell the word ‘acting’ let alone carry it out. Surprisingly, this could be Milligan’s most competent film. It actually has dialogue you can hear, kooky music and a start and an ending with - get this - a plot jammed in between - sort of.
A mad 19th century family of werewolf/vampires (with English accents) organize a will reading and a clan gathering, have tea, talk non-stop, bicker, blow wind and torture their younger, idiotic, simpleton hunchback brother by beating him with sticks and setting him on fire in the garden (yes, really). It’s like a badly filmed costume drama in slo-mo until lycanthropy erupts and a chicken gets pulled apart.
But wait. While they were making this, Willard (71) hit the cinema and made big box office, so producer Mishkin asked Andy to add some rats to the story so they could grab a wet patch on the rodent band wagon and make some cash... so what did Andy do? That’s right. He quickly chucked in a rat attack sub-plot and filmed a crass, sick minute of somebody stabbing and decapitating a tiny wee (real) mouse nailed to a table.
Baaad all over, this is an astonishing piece of hack crap, but pretty much in a genre of it’s own. Don’t expect any sense, style or excitement whatsoever and you’ll be all right.