As these things go, it's not too bad -- about average maybe.
It's a revenge story in which an evil and psychotic man, Caulfield, insinuates himself into a normal household. He is the perfect tenant, occupying the guest house in the rear. Like most tenants, or rather like most people, he isn't everything he seems.
There are twists and turns in the plot as the tenant first murders Linda Purl's dad, leaving only Purl and her teenage daughter alone in the house -- two helpless women.
Oh, and Caulfield has a kind of dumb-witted accomplice, the ex-psychiatric patient played by Traci Nelson. For my part, she takes the acting palm. She looks heftier -- more succulent and less virginal than she did as the nun in that TV series, whatever it was. It helps that hers is the most colorful and least stereotyped role. She's in love with Caulfield and has tracked him down in his new identity. The fact that he doesn't give a hoot about her, that he only took all of her money because that's all he wanted, means nothing to her. The conventionalism of the script (by Castaldo and Bonin, who I hope isn't trying to be amusing) doesn't give her any more of a break than Caulfield does. She enters an empty house where he has agreed to meet with her. Just after she's walked through the front door he springs up behind her and begins strangling her. She disables him momentarily, knocking him to the floor, but instead of running back outside she scurries up the stairs, allowing him to follow. He clips her on the jaw and pins her on the bed. "Gulp. I love you," she manages to gasp, just before he bashes her brains out with a phone.
The stupidity continues. The teenage boyfriend of Purl's daughter has agreed to follow Caulfield around to find out who he is. Okay. Caulfield goes into an empty house. A few minutes later, Traci Nelson goes into the house. Pause. The sound of a gun shot. The boy looks puzzled and annoyed. "Now what was that?" he asks aloud. Shortly Caulfield exits the premises lugging along a stone-heavy crate functional to the extent that it can contain a human dead body. Caulfield heaves the crate up into his trunk and drives to a remote place. One of those "densely wooded areas" where all dead bodies are found, regardless of whether they've been subject to "an execution-style murder" or a "ritual murder." Anyway -- I hope you're following this -- anyway, Caulfield is spied upon by the teenager while he unloads the crate. It flops open and an arm falls out. So what does the kid do? Well, precisely the same thing you would do. He goggles, takes out his camera, starts sneaking closer for a better look or a better picture, steps on a twig and cracks it, and is chased through the woods by a murderer armed with a pistol.
But -- wait for it -- the kid is a clever boots. He steps from behind a tree and whomps the murderer in the chest with a log, knocking the guy to the ground. The kid picks up the pistol. Caulfield runs away. The kid, instead of beating it back to his car and zipping off into the cerulean horizon, CHASES the killer, shooting wildly at him. He misses with every shot, and it's no wonder. He's holding the pistol in the faddish sideways position he picked up from watching too many action movies. When he empties the pistol, he stands there in a state of tonic immobility, while Caulfield emerges from cover, regains the pistol, puts a new clip in, and -- well, I don't want to spoil it for you.
It's not worth going on about. The movie doesn't require a suspension of disbelief. It practically demands the smothering of consciousness itself. Don't miss it if you can.
It's a revenge story in which an evil and psychotic man, Caulfield, insinuates himself into a normal household. He is the perfect tenant, occupying the guest house in the rear. Like most tenants, or rather like most people, he isn't everything he seems.
There are twists and turns in the plot as the tenant first murders Linda Purl's dad, leaving only Purl and her teenage daughter alone in the house -- two helpless women.
Oh, and Caulfield has a kind of dumb-witted accomplice, the ex-psychiatric patient played by Traci Nelson. For my part, she takes the acting palm. She looks heftier -- more succulent and less virginal than she did as the nun in that TV series, whatever it was. It helps that hers is the most colorful and least stereotyped role. She's in love with Caulfield and has tracked him down in his new identity. The fact that he doesn't give a hoot about her, that he only took all of her money because that's all he wanted, means nothing to her. The conventionalism of the script (by Castaldo and Bonin, who I hope isn't trying to be amusing) doesn't give her any more of a break than Caulfield does. She enters an empty house where he has agreed to meet with her. Just after she's walked through the front door he springs up behind her and begins strangling her. She disables him momentarily, knocking him to the floor, but instead of running back outside she scurries up the stairs, allowing him to follow. He clips her on the jaw and pins her on the bed. "Gulp. I love you," she manages to gasp, just before he bashes her brains out with a phone.
The stupidity continues. The teenage boyfriend of Purl's daughter has agreed to follow Caulfield around to find out who he is. Okay. Caulfield goes into an empty house. A few minutes later, Traci Nelson goes into the house. Pause. The sound of a gun shot. The boy looks puzzled and annoyed. "Now what was that?" he asks aloud. Shortly Caulfield exits the premises lugging along a stone-heavy crate functional to the extent that it can contain a human dead body. Caulfield heaves the crate up into his trunk and drives to a remote place. One of those "densely wooded areas" where all dead bodies are found, regardless of whether they've been subject to "an execution-style murder" or a "ritual murder." Anyway -- I hope you're following this -- anyway, Caulfield is spied upon by the teenager while he unloads the crate. It flops open and an arm falls out. So what does the kid do? Well, precisely the same thing you would do. He goggles, takes out his camera, starts sneaking closer for a better look or a better picture, steps on a twig and cracks it, and is chased through the woods by a murderer armed with a pistol.
But -- wait for it -- the kid is a clever boots. He steps from behind a tree and whomps the murderer in the chest with a log, knocking the guy to the ground. The kid picks up the pistol. Caulfield runs away. The kid, instead of beating it back to his car and zipping off into the cerulean horizon, CHASES the killer, shooting wildly at him. He misses with every shot, and it's no wonder. He's holding the pistol in the faddish sideways position he picked up from watching too many action movies. When he empties the pistol, he stands there in a state of tonic immobility, while Caulfield emerges from cover, regains the pistol, puts a new clip in, and -- well, I don't want to spoil it for you.
It's not worth going on about. The movie doesn't require a suspension of disbelief. It practically demands the smothering of consciousness itself. Don't miss it if you can.