Fernando (Julio Alemán) is an architect who has it all: a loving wife, three kids, another on the way, a teenage niece living under their roof and an appreciation for life’s finer things, i.e. cow-eye tacos. And now he has even more, inheriting a vacation home from his aunt. So what if it “looks like a haunted house,” as his daughter, Gaby (Gianella Hassel Kus), says? It’s his, and it calls for a celebration!

It also calls for, naturally, a vacation — to be precise, a Vacation of Terror! The old place turns out to be a real fixer-upper; it’s all dust and cobwebs and — ay-yi-yi! — the kitchen has no stove! Even worse, the place houses mice, snakes, spiders, bleeding works of art, flying kitchenware and upturned furniture on strings, all because it was built on the site where a witch was burned at the stake, Joan of Arc-style, one century prior.

Besides a pile of ashes, the Beelzebub-worshipping woman left behind a doll, which Gaby promptly finds and clutches. Looking like a bloated, latter-day Elizabeth Taylor, the doll has a porcelain complexion, pursed lips and the ability to do magic things. All of these aforementioned acts are accompanied by a close-up of its eyes shifting back and forth while the soundtrack plays the same sound effect: someone quickly dragging his fingernails across a piano’s wires. Third-generation director René Cardona III employs the aural sting so often, it eventually gains a Pavlovian effect.

If Vacation of Terror weren’t a Mexican-language production, it may not be worth a watch. Seeing American horror tropes filtered through the culture and perspective of our republic neighbors to the south is what makes this cheap flick fun, from the niece’s boyfriend (Pedro Fernández) stepping up as a hero in acid-washed jeans to his oddly phrased declaration that “I, for one, will make myself a sandwich.” His total ingredients are lettuce, tomato and carrots, in case you wish to emulate his snack for optimum viewing; in all honesty, a El Charrito frozen dinner — the more calories, the better — would be more apt. —Rod Lott

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