DRIVE-IN SATURDAY
“You are cordially invited to spend an evening with Roger Cobb and his friends. Don’t come alone!” The invitation to House was typical. Copy writers for horror movies must all be taking the same courses at The New School or something. Still, the request for The Dauph’s attendance could hardly be ignored.
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DRIVE.INSATURDAY
COME ON-A MY HOUSE
Edouard Dauphin
“You are cordially invited to spend an evening with Roger Cobb and his friends. Don’t come alone!”
The invitation to House was typical. Copy writers for horror movies must all be taking the same courses at The New School or something. Still, the request for The Dauph’s attendance could hardly be ignored. The producer of House was Sean Cunningham of Last House On The Left and Friday The 13th fame, and director—Steve Miner— was responsible for Parts II and III of the Jason saga. House was at least worth checking out. And, of course, The Dauph would not come alone. I don’t venture out at all these days unless accompanied by Horst, the sixfoot-eight-inch Prussian bodyguard I won from Grace Jones last summer in a pinochle game.
As you might expect from the title, House fits into the haunted domicile sub-genre of horror flicks. The Roger Cobb character is a hugely successful Stephen King-like author who seeks creative solitude in a sinister, atmospheric house once inhabited by his crazed aunt, a recent hanging suicide. Nutsy as the place is, it could be the perfect setting for a writer to crank out a supernatural yarn. Trouble is Roger wants to depart from his best-seller formula to pen his memoirs of life as a lowly grunt in the jungles of Vietnam. See, Roger’s brain is still on the rinse cycle due to his combat experiences, and he needs to exorcise the demons that have haunted his subconscious lo these many years. If House is starting to sound like Rambo Meets The Amityville Horror to you, then you’ve pretty much got the picture.
Making matters infinitely worse is the fact that Roger Cobb is played by William Katt, best remembered (or perhaps forgotten) as a great American superhero on television. Katt has aged quite a bit since that series but, for those of you who liked the way he was back then, rest assured his acting ability has not improved. Roger Cobb’s intrusive next door neighbor is portrayed by another veteran of the small screen, the corpulent, rubberfaced George Wendt. He, of course, has the role of a lumpish slob in Cheers, and in House, he is cast as a tub-like fool. What a career move for George! And then there’s the hulking Richard Moll, who plays Roger’s nemesis, a vengeful, longdead American infantryman. Moll, I’m told, appears on the popular A//ghf Court, a TV program The Dauph has never watched, since I’m often being hauled by police into the real life version downtown.
Soon after Roger settles into his new abode, he makes a terrifying discovery. The mansion is a storage area for all the old special effects from Alien. Nearly every time he opens a closet, some sort of slimy, balloon-like monster with tentacles leaps out at him. But does he flee the house? Naturally not—this is supposed to be a horror film. Besides, he probably recognizes the inflatable fiends and keeps checking out closets in the hope that he’ll find Sigourney Weaver. No such luck. Instead, he just unearths more second-hand monsters. The Dauph swears he recognized these rubberized beasties from dreck like The Boogens, Prophecy and even, God help us, Ghostbusters. The producers of House must have picked up their special effects at a yard sale.
Not all of Roger Cobb’s problems are in the closet. His estranged wife (Kay Lenz) turns up and, thinking she is another fiendish dirigible, he shoots her. Getting rid of her remains in the garden—while the soundtrack blares out a version of “You’re No Good” that sounds disturbingly like Linda Ronstadt’s— Roger encounters a neighborhood blonde bimbo taking a dip in his swimming pool. She is played by a former Miss World who, judging from appearances, could soon be competing for the title of Miss Cellulite. Her acting style is similarly flabby.
The movie’s finale—far too long in arriving—pits Roger against his former Vietnam buddy, the towering foot soldier. This sequence, though meant to be frightening, sent Horst into gales of Teutonic laughter, and both he and The Dauph were asked by the management to leave the theater. Horst muttered something about tearing up the orchestra seats one by one with his bare hands, but we settled for shooting out the projector instead. As an afterthought, Horst ripped down the marquee outside. He told me later if there’s one thing Grace Jones taught him, it’s how to make an exit.
