It may be true that sex, or the fear of it, lies at the core of all good horror movies. This film pays homage to that well-worn conceit but seems curiously shy about pushing it to dramatic effect. The result: a watered-down version of the usual haunted house story. Newcomer Robin Groves plays a novelist suffering from a variety of ailments: writer's block, fear of men and agoraphobia (fear of being in open spaces). She moves alone to a place in the country. Naturally, it's a strange, octagonal-shaped house in the middle of nowhere. Soon everything goes wrong: She begins to have odd dreams; the owner of the house takes one look at her and has a heart attack; she's even attacked by the handyman. What's going on? The house used to be a brothel, and all the whores were murdered one night by a group of neighborhood thugs. Ghosts are a-slink. Groves, as the neurotic, obsessed writer, is wholesomely sexy. John Carradine, as the landlord, is as usual wasted. Sadly, this also marks the last appearance of the late Gloria Grahame, the sultry blonde in many early-'50s films, who has a cameo as the brothel's madam. (R)
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