THE NORLISS TAPES (1973)
Dir: Dan Curtis

One expects much better from seminal TV horror pioneer Dan Curtis than displayed in this rather throwaway witchcraft yarn. And yet many of the Curtis trademarks (put to such brilliant use in The Night Stalker and ensuing sequel and weekly series) are present: moody and rainy locales (here, Northern California and San Francisco), ominous narration, the slinky female with a dark past (Angie Dickinson) and above all the archetype of the lone investigator, beleaguered by his own personal demons prior to confronting supernatural horrors.

Celebrated author and debunker of occult claims and myths (Roy Thines, a familiar TV horror presence in the 70s to be sure) stumbles across a beautiful widow stalked by the reanimated corpse of her dead husband. All is recounted through flashbacks and the emotionally evocative device of recorded reel tapes left behind after Thines' mysterious disappearance.

And uh, not much else.

For true 70s TV horror completists only.

Like us.

SOMETHING EVIL (1972)
Dir: Steven Spielberg

Just as the public discord and outrage surrounding the carnage of the Vietnam War ushered in a new wave of ultra-violent American horror films, the mass exodus from the nation's urban centers (known racially as "White Flight") was dramatically interpreted/analyzed in countless genre classics. From The Texas Chainsaw Massacre to The Hills Have Eyes to Deliverance to every other TV Movie of the Week, you can be sure bad things happen when city dwellers meet rural folk.

NYC couple (Sandy Dennis and Darrin McGavin) move themselves and two children from Manhattan to Bucks County, PA and the horrors ensuing (while interesting enough) hardly compare with the hellish commute the breadwinner must endure daily. Basically, this is a very, very mild horror telefilm, constructed around the visual flair of a young Spielberg not yet restrained enough to allow story to trump technique. Lots of flashy film school angles and framing nonetheless elevate Something Evil above the staple primetime fodder provided by the script.

The whole city/country conflict is continually explored whether through chic cocktail parties full of Madison Avenue executives on the newly acquired farm (juxtaposed with a party of locals that seems alot more fun and frankly urbane) or a tenant farmer insistent upon archaic rituals like the bloodletting of chickens. In a fabulous moment typical of the divine Ms. Dennis, Sandy calls husband Darren on the phone to complain of the local farmer's strewing of chicken blood across newly sown fields with the single remark: "Do please speak to him. He's draining a live chicken's blood across the fields again. I can't tell you how distasteful I find it."

THE HOUSE THAT WOULD NOT DIE (1970)
Dir: John Llewellyn Moxey

Routine but cozy haunted house flick, suitable for younger children and nervous grandmothers sensitive to violence. With two potential love stories occurring at once ( a trim and fit Barbara Stanwyck and her co-ed niece move into an inherited New England ancestral home dating from the late 1600s) this TV movie also functions as a multi-generational Gothic tale.

The real interest (as always) lies in the details: violent spirit possession, a highly conflicted paramour to Stanwyck (he almost rapes her in the kitchen only to be forgiven with a cursory apology) and appreciated attention to detail in the excellent art direction and realistic set decoration.

What would this sort of genre pic be without obligatory wind machines amping up a full curtain raising (and shredding) conclusion? Check. Or a local expert in the occult and local witchcraft folklore and legends? Ditto. A rarity very hard to find other than through Internet forum links, but worth a batch of homemade buttered popcorn should someone generously share with you.

DYING ROOM ONLY (1973) Dir: Philip Leacock

Far, far better than a made-for-TV thriller has the right to be, Dying Room Only owes most of its chilling impact to an original teleplay from horror maestro Richard Matheson (based on his own short story) and a gritty, nervous performance from an unexpectedly chic Cloris Leachman.

Stranded in a Southwestern desert cafe after the sudden disappearance of her hubby (Dabney Coleman) in a plot device prefiguring by 20 years the Euro horror mega-hit The Vanishing, Leachman confronts some seriously sinister locals while searching for her better half. (In a nice - and strongly acted - characterization against his usual "victim", Ned Beatty plays the heavy).

A sense of isolation, frustration and mounting unease give way to full-blown panic as Leachman learns the dark secrets of the roadside eatery and attached motel, and plot, tone and direction never degrade into predictable cliches or the "softening" conclusions so favored by certain TV movies. Then again this is the 70s, that golden age of filmed dark fables indicative of a nation's upheavals and crises.

WHEN MICHAEL CALLS (1971) Dir: Philip Leacock

Despite a most impressive cast (Elizabeth Ashley, Michael Douglas and Ben Gazzara) and source material (based on John Farris' novel), this TV thriller disappoints. Perhaps because of high expectations from its authorial pedigree and assembled talent. A chilling plot revolving around midnight phone calls from a dead child falls flat on the small screen; whereas numerous other directors open up storylines to the very limits of TV production, Leacock piddles away precious screen time focusing on red herrings and stock devices setting up audiences for the ubiquitous Third Act non-supernatural explanation.

Nice to see a young Michael Douglas play against type and always wonderful to watch Ms. Ashley bring elegance and class to any production she graces, but Gazzaro sleepwalks through the proceedings, clearly dreaming of his next Cassavetes star turn.

To be fair the first 20 or so minutes are rather creepy and the otherwise faulting Leacock can take credit for slow zooms and early atmospherics finely tuned to the dually scary and sentimental notion of contact with a deceased, beloved child.