The House of Usher (1988) - film review

Ryan, a young American, takes his girlfriend Molly to England to visit his Uncle Roderick Usher at his ancient mansion.  On the way, Ryan drives his car into a tree and knocks himself senseless.   Molly is then accosted by a stranger who turns out to be Uncle Roderick’s faithful retainer, Mr Derrick.  Although grateful for the hospitality she receives at Usher House, Molly is anxious to be reunited with her boyfriend whom, she is told, is in hospital recovering from his injuries.  Exploring the old house, she comes across Ryan’s lifeless body in a coffin.   Not content with Uncle Roderick’s explanation that his nephew died in hospital, Molly tries to escape.  Her efforts are thwarted by Roderick, who intends that she should bear him a son  to continue the Usher line.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, Roderick has an insane brother who enjoys carving people up with his hand drill...

To quote the immortal bard, O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee!   I have struggled to come up with something positive to say about this film, to unearth some small redeeming feature that justifies the effort spent putting it into the DVD player and taking it out again, but no, nothing.  There is absolutely nothing to commend this horror disaster, which has to be the most painfully botched adaptation of an Edgar Allan Poe story you can imagine.  

You don’t need to compare it with the classic Roger Corman version of Poe’s Usher story.  This just reeks of cack-handed amateurishness from top to bottom.  The film marks the absolute professional nadir for its two star actors, Oliver Reed and Donald Pleasence, who both exude enough cuts of prime ham to cause a total collapse in the world’s meat industry, doing for the histrionic art what George W. Bush and Tony Blair did for world peace in 2003. 

The quality of the direction, which is at best uninspired, is matched by a script that appears to have been cobbled together by an illiterate 13-year-old.  Even the set design is abysmal, as cheap, tacky and rickety as the film itself.  As for the ending... What on Earth was the script writer thinking?  It’s a good thing they don’t hand out suicide pills when you buy your cinema ticket - this one would have resulted in a massacre (assuming anyone was daft enough to go and watch it).  It is possible that this may not be the worst horror film ever made, but it will take some beating (preferably with a very, very large sledge hammer).

© Steve Chandler 2010

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