Film Review: House

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It's rare that the producers of a horror film object to an R rating, but that is the stance expressed by the makers of "House."

Of course, not too many horror films are based on Christian-themed novels either, which accounts for the muddled spiritual elements -- not to mention the lack of gratuitous nudity -- in this mediocre effort.

Taking place on the proverbial dark and stormy night -- there's enough lightning flashes for a dozen such films -- the story revolves around two couples (Reynaldo Rosales, Heidi Dippold, J.P. Davis, Julie Ann Emery) who make the mistake of wandering into a spooky inn after their cars have broken down in the middle of the woods.

There, they encounter a true house of horrors, inhabited by a creepy middle-aged proprietress (Leslie Easterbrook); her leering younger son who looks so grotesque that he might as well be named Igor; and her older, more malevolent son who asks one of the men, "Are you gonna violate your woman in one of our upstairs rooms?"

As might be expected, all hell literally breaks loose, with the two couples pursued by the family as well as a masked killer dubbed the "Tin Man," even while they try to wrestle with the psychic demons of their pasts.

As ineptly directed by Robby Henson, the violent (but not too graphically so) goings-on are largely incoherent, with matters not helped by subpar performances, laughably inane dialogue and cheap CGI effects.

Lending his usual menacing presence and gravelly voice to the Roadside Attractions film is B-movie vet Michael Madsen as a less-than-helpful sheriff.
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