My experience with Burnt Offerings mirrors that of a lot of people on this site with numerous old horror films: they remember a scary movie that frightened them as a child, and then decades later get to re-experience it on the miracle of DVD. The reality of the movie seldom turns out to live up to your memories of it. Such was the case with Burnt Offerings.
The plot hangs on the slimmest of reeds: dimple-cheeked suburban family moves into a spooky house for the summer while the owners are on vacation. There's just one catch: there's an invalid old lady who lives in the attic, and they have to take care of her. Say WHAT? This doesn't strike anybody as odd? Or even an insurance risk? As soon as you realize the movie refuses to show you the old lady you already know what the gag is going to be, and when Karen Black finally makes good on it, it's about as surprising as the revelation that there are cowboys in Texas. Before we get to that point we have to go through the usual spooky-house machinations: creepy noises, a cursed swimming pool, and uncommonly bipolar behavior from the various other cast members, most notably Oliver Reed, who to his credit at least does the best he can with the thinness and contradictions in his role.
Bette Davis's makeup co-stars (as Bette Davis), and does a frighteningly realistic imitation of a weird Kabuki mask. Karen Black, prematurely aged and wrapped in Victorian-era laces, looks like she's going to break into monologues from "The Belle of Amherst" at any moment. Burgess Meredith obviously had a wonderful time wheezing and hacking through his role (which was probably shot in one or maybe just a few days), but you can tell he thinks the script is utter pap. In the plus column, the scene where Oliver Reed tries to drown his son in the pool--and especially his grief afterward--is pretty believable, and the special effects of the house reconstituting itself isn't bad for 1976 technology. There are still some unintentional laugh-out-loud moments, especially the schtick involving the chauffeur. The chauffeur in particular scared the heck out of my sister and I when we were kids, but seeing this movie again today, it's just silly when it should be creepy.
Haunted house movies are tough to do. Writers and directors who resist the temptation to go in the blood-and-guts, straight-horror direction have a challenging time paying homage to the creepy old thrillers (both literary and cinematic) without it coming off as hokey. This is an amusing film, but if you're expecting to be scared, good luck.
The plot hangs on the slimmest of reeds: dimple-cheeked suburban family moves into a spooky house for the summer while the owners are on vacation. There's just one catch: there's an invalid old lady who lives in the attic, and they have to take care of her. Say WHAT? This doesn't strike anybody as odd? Or even an insurance risk? As soon as you realize the movie refuses to show you the old lady you already know what the gag is going to be, and when Karen Black finally makes good on it, it's about as surprising as the revelation that there are cowboys in Texas. Before we get to that point we have to go through the usual spooky-house machinations: creepy noises, a cursed swimming pool, and uncommonly bipolar behavior from the various other cast members, most notably Oliver Reed, who to his credit at least does the best he can with the thinness and contradictions in his role.
Bette Davis's makeup co-stars (as Bette Davis), and does a frighteningly realistic imitation of a weird Kabuki mask. Karen Black, prematurely aged and wrapped in Victorian-era laces, looks like she's going to break into monologues from "The Belle of Amherst" at any moment. Burgess Meredith obviously had a wonderful time wheezing and hacking through his role (which was probably shot in one or maybe just a few days), but you can tell he thinks the script is utter pap. In the plus column, the scene where Oliver Reed tries to drown his son in the pool--and especially his grief afterward--is pretty believable, and the special effects of the house reconstituting itself isn't bad for 1976 technology. There are still some unintentional laugh-out-loud moments, especially the schtick involving the chauffeur. The chauffeur in particular scared the heck out of my sister and I when we were kids, but seeing this movie again today, it's just silly when it should be creepy.
Haunted house movies are tough to do. Writers and directors who resist the temptation to go in the blood-and-guts, straight-horror direction have a challenging time paying homage to the creepy old thrillers (both literary and cinematic) without it coming off as hokey. This is an amusing film, but if you're expecting to be scared, good luck.