This is an updated version of a review that was originally published in Bleeding Skull! A 1980s Trash-Horror Odyssey.
With upsetting movies like Eaten Alive and Cannibal Ferox, the late Umberto Lenzi established himself as filmmaker who didn’t care about people’s feelings. That’s probably why Ghosthouse—Lenzi’s bid in the coked-out, anything-goes 1980s Italian horror sweepstakes—was released as Evil Dead III in Italy.
A couple of senior citizens are killed in a farmhouse. A little girl and a clown doll watch. Twenty years later, Paul and his (possibly European) girlfriend Martha discuss Kelly LeBrock and Simon LeBon over their ham radio. Then, the radio emits noises that sound like a grown man imitating Danny’s “redrum” voice from The Shining. Paul uses his computer to trace the origin of the sounds. The little girl, the clown doll, and the farmhouse return. A Winnebago full of young people arrives. In a wash of sitcom theme song outtakes, Commodore 64 computer bleeps ‘n’ bloops, and exploding glass objects, everyone is killed by a caretaker. Also, someone takes a milk bath.
Ghosthouse has a preoccupation with “computers” and “ham radio technology,” which I appreciate. It has Duran Duran references, which I also appreciate. Plus, someone in the movie says, “You wanna mind your own beeswax?,” and I appreciate that too. Because in fifth grade, a girl name Chrissy stole a cassette of Duran Duran’s Seven and the Ragged Tiger out of my cubbyhole. My friend saw her do it. I liked Chrissy. We played The Legend of Zelda together once. So, I confronted her. “Beeswax” was one of the words she used in her reply. “A-hole” was another. In fact, she might have said, “You wanna mind your own beeswax, a-hole?” If the ghost of Umberto Lenzi were in this room right now, I’d tell him that story. He would probably smile. And then, in keeping with his generous nature, he would definitely kick me in the crotch.
A skull-faced apparition! Pretty okay gore! A DANG CLOWN DOLL! Ghosthouse should be a great time, but flimsy characters, bland direction, and a 105-minute runtime keep it from getting there. Plus, the promise of a killer clown doll turned out to be a broken one. The doll just gets flung over someone’s shoulder in one scene. Unlike the clown doll in Ghoulies, it never comes to life. Ghosthouse needed some of the strange magic that Rossella Drudi and Claudio Fragasso conjured in movies like Troll 2, Zombie IV, and yes, Evil Dead V. Without it, this is just another sleepy almost-banger from late-80s Italy.
On a positive note, I can’t stop thinking about how much I’d like to hear Seven and the Ragged Tiger again. Grazie, Umberto!
