The Castle on Haunted Hill

by Anders Runestad

Five strangers are brought together by a mysterious host. Each character has individual motivations and backgrounds, but the group is united by an eccentric invitation. “They share one thing: they all need money,” the evening’s ringmaster observes, later purring that “I think everyone wonders what they would do if they saw a ghost.”

Told that they will each receive $10,000 upon surviving the night in a haunted house, the site of multiple murders, financial need is of course persuasive. And why not, because there cannot be any real danger from ghosts in a haunted house, right? Even when they are promised that they will be locked in at midnight, with no hope of leaving until dawn? But with varying degrees of skepticism, all soon find the idea less comfortable as the night wears on, becoming more and more unsettled as a series of scares and revelations unfold like unlocking hidden chambers.

House on Haunted Hill has the image of a cheesy 1950s horror experience. A giant skeleton populates the film’s posters, looming over everything and setting the house of the title into the background. And along with it is the promise of Vincent Price, his horror career solidifying throughout this decade, ready to draw viewers in with his smooth presence, wonderful voice and lovably sinister demeanor as the host who sets the plot in motion. The film’s theatrical presentation with the gimmick of “Emergo” cements it further for anyone who knows director William Castle by reputation, who made quite a name as a showman with a variety of in-theater gimmicks to enhance the moviegoing experience (such as special glasses, buzzing theater seats, and insurance policies for the lives of frightened moviegoers). So the prospect of a plastic skeleton—and it had to be a let-down compared to the bony monstrosity on the poster—hanging over the original theatrical audience for House on Haunted Hill doesn’t suggest much for the film’s intrinsic merits, or that its makers had any faith in it beyond an excuse for audience-teasing hype.

But Castle’s promotional gimmicks indicate nothing about the quality of his movies. For while there were many low-rent filmmakers who put all their creativity into the advertising and barely tried on the actual films, a Castle movie delivers even after audiences have been separated from their money. Misunderstood as a schlockmeister with a gift for ballyhoo, he was in reality a skilled filmmaker, and showed promise early on. There is, for example, his 1944 film noir When Strangers Marry for King Brothers Productions, with Robert Mitchum in an early starring role. Having directed literally dozens of movies before initiating his independent career in the late fifties, Castle could recognize a good movie concept, get it filmed competently and economically, and then exploit it successfully.

Because Castle was adjacent to the horror genre, having worked in film noir and mystery throughout his years as a director, he understood how to create fear onscreen, both from a subtle buildup and from a sudden shock. House on Haunted Hill is rich with both. Claustrophobia is introduced early, Price’s rich eccentric informing his guests, “Once the door is locked, there’s no way out. The windows have bars that a jail would be proud of, and the only door to the outside locks like a vault.” And characters will soon find themselves separated, isolated, and encountering things that are irrational and just plain threatening. The sudden scares in this movie are outstanding, for being unpredictable, frightening, and still fraught with ambiguity after they end. There is a real nightmare logic at work here; story, character and visuals working together in the best finely tuned manner to create a mood where things always feel like something scary could be imminent.

This uneasy world is populated by an assortment of contrasting types: a pilot, a gossip columnist, a shrink, the scared proprietor who lost his brother, and Price’s employee who really needs the money (maybe he should just pay her a higher salary?). The great cast is a good compliment to Price (no one could really be a match for him, especially in this kind of role), including familiar TV veteran Richard Long, Robert Mitchum’s sister Julie, and uber character actor Elisha Cook, Jr., at his worried best. (“Only the ghosts in this house are glad we’re here,” he assures the rest of the guests at their initial meeting.) But special mention is due to Carol Ohmart, who appeared onscreen infrequently from the mid-1950s to mid-1970s, ably holding her own with Price as his caustic better half who, in fairness to her, seems to have been putting up with a lot as the fourth or fifth of his wives.

And the characters come alive in their variety thanks to the expert pace at which events unfold. Without saying too much, we get plenty of opportunity to be scared before we learn that it is midnight in the house, and plenty more afterwards. The initial setup is barely scratching the surface, much more will unfold, and the story works on more than one level—as witness the verbal mind games shared by Price and Ohmart’s characters. The film’s confinement to a modest number of fairly basic sets is no detriment, between Castle’s expertise as director and the quality of script he had to work with. Like Roger Corman, Castle knew who to collaborate with and delegate to, and he had a serious asset with screenwriter Robb White. More popular in the genre fiction world and not a career screenwriter, White was of the magnificently prolific old school of genre writing, in the ballpark of Edgar Wallace and Frederick Faust, and wrote more than a few thrillers aimed at younger readers. Using him as screenwriter is a great example of Castle succeeding because he understood how to get the right people onboard.

With Robb White’s excellent work, House on Haunted Hill wraps all of the requisite fright elements around character and dialogue, especially the dysfunctional couple at the center. Paranoid and resentful, Vincent Price and Carol Ohmart have one bitter exchange after another, unease and humor dovetailing around each other, with Price’s definitive skunky rich guy line, “Of all my wives, you are the least agreeable.” Their troubled dynamic will spill out to affect each character as the narrative careens to its resolution, and yet their bickering remains a major source of enjoyment for the viewer. “You remember the fun we had when you poisoned me?” Price asks, while Ohmart chides him, “Darling, the only ghoul in the house is you.”

Viewers will have to watch and find out for themselves how true that statement may or may not be. But it can be said without spoilers or doubt that William Castle was a ghoul-monger far above the ordinary, and you don’t need any help from a fake skeleton to enjoy House on Haunted Hill. It is one of his definitive achievements not only as a showman, but as a filmmaker.