Over the years, various indie horror filmmakers have cult followings, sometimes for the low quality of the films (Ed Wood and Andy Milligan spring to mind). Probably because of the high profiles of these schlockmeisters, low budget horror films from the 1970s seem, almost without exception, to be synonymous with bad movie making.
The movies of S.F. Brownrigg are not part of that group.
Yeah, it's all opinion, but come on, look at his work. Or more specifically, THIS work, lensed in Jefferson TX and utilizing one of the most beautiful Victorian houses I've ever seen. I won't spend much time talking about the story because others have already covered that. A young woman returns to her childhood home (where her mother was murdered 13 years before) to care for her ailing grandmother. She's menaced by an obscene phone caller. That's it.
Wait a minute. That's really just a springboard for something deeper. The plot hardly has any twists (or twists you don't see coming), but look at the various aspects of the production. Brownrigg had a dedicated stock company of actors, who gamely took on whatever role he gave them. The acting runs from competent to excellent--there's nary a bad performance in this, or any other Brownrigg movie. He had a penchance for casting gorgeous female leads, and Susan Bracken is no exception. Looking like a BABY DOLL-era Carroll Baker, Bracken is not only lovely, but feisty as well. You can't take your eyes off her. Larry O'Dwyer may have only appeared in this movie, but he turned in a performance that ranks up there as one of the creepiest in all of Brownrigg's oeuvre. It's both icky and believable; anyone who's lived in a small town knows somebody who fits this profile. Despite being filmed in Texas, there's a deep South vibe to this flick, one that lends itself to a suffocating, insane atmosphere. You can almost feel the humidity and deep, dark secrets festering in the shadows of tradition and heritage. And the house . . . Brownrigg utilized The House of the Seasons, an ornate Victorian confection that, as of this writing, is open as a B & B in Jefferson. The house boasts a cupola decorated by a stained glass dome, a setting that plays prominently in one action sequence. Don't think this film is competently made? Check out the tracking sequence that follows Bracken's character as she moves up the stairwell into the cupola. That's not the kind of thing you see in low-budget 1970s horror, and it's not the kind of shot attempted by a no-talent hack. Brownrigg didn't let budgetary contraints put the kibosh on a creative filmmaking.
And those dolls . . . is there anything creepier? A real historical society museum and doll museum were used as filming locales, and Brownrigg was savvy enough to use some of the dolls in his title sequence. Accompanied by a harpsichord-heavy score, the sequence, a series of pans across the doll's faces on a black background, is suitable unnerving. I was reminded of Tobe Hooper's opening sequence for THE FUNHOUSE (which of course was filmed nearly 10 years later), in which the creepy automatons emerge from sliding panels. Atmosphere is as thick as the air on a mid-summer's Texas day. Good acting, creative camera angles, ingenious use of locals, a looming sense of dread--what more can I say? Way to go, Brownie!
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