Not every horror film begins with a baboon being bagged. Because honestly, how many does South Africa make? Public-domain mainstay House of the Living Dead is one of the precious few.
In the plantation home of the wealthy Brattling clan, the snooty, elderly matriarch (Margaret Inglis) lives with her two adult sons. Michael (Mark Burns, 1974’s Juggernaut) is engaged to the lovely Mary Anne Carew (Shirley Ann Field, Horrors of the Black Museum), against his mother’s wishes. His brother, Breck, is a doctor working to prove his belief that one’s soul can be kept alive outside the physical body.
Ol’ Breck conducts his experiments in the attic. Ever since he was injured by a horse, Breck and his sideways Frankenfoot rarely leave the room, so you know he’s going to be the most inhospitable of guests when the ginger Mary Anne travels to town to meet her impending in-laws.
The motherland’s attempt at a Roger Corman-style big-house horror, sans the Poe leaping point, House of the Living Dead isn’t close to dreadful as reviews would lead one to believe. Less-than-lackluster prints and a misleading coattails rider of a title are likely to blame for negative reaction, but the film from Virgin Witch crafter Ray Austin is a capable Gothic yarn with a twist that, while easy to guess, is well-played. —Rod Lott