Roger Cobb, a successful horror novelist, is thrown into a deep personal crisis after the death of his six-year-old son, who vanished under mysterious circumstances in the family’s old house, once inhabited by his eccentric, artist aunt. Following her suicide, Roger decides to move back into the property, seeking isolation to work on a new project, a journal-like book drawn from his experiences in Vietnam.
But as soon as he settles into the house, a series of unsettling occurrences begin to unfold, gradually bringing buried secrets back to the surface.
House (aka Chi è sepolto in quella casa?) marks the first entry in the informal four-film cycle overseen by Sean Cunningham as producer and supervisor, a series entirely unrelated to the one launched by Sam Raimi with The Evil Dead.
Within this set, it is generally regarded as the strongest and most engaging chapter, not least because the later films tend to revisit and expand on ideas already introduced here.
The narrative is gripping: a man shattered by his son's disappearance is forced to confront both the ghosts of his past and something far more tangible and vengeful. The film maintains a steady pace, avoiding narrative gaps or inconsistencies, unfolding in a clear and coherent way while occasionally breaking the tension with touches of dark humor.
The film also stands out for its unusual, and at times effective, blending of genres. It shifts from horror, with the various creatures and entities inhabiting the house, to moments of comedy tied to the eccentric neighbor Harold, while also incorporating elements of a ghost story through Roger's visions and past traumas. At points, it even veers into war film territory, with several sequences linked to his experiences in Vietnam.
This mix becomes a defining trait of the entire series, though it is most prominent in this first chapter and only faintly present in House III, which leans far more heavily into straight horror and gore.
The film is directed by seasoned craftsman Steve Miner, known for titles such as Lake Placid and Friday the 13th Part 2.
It gets off to a strong start: the aunt’s death, Roger's breakdown, his return to the house, the first hallucinations and apparitions. All elements are handled with solid pacing and balance, occasionally broken up by moments of humor and flashbacks tied to the war and his missing son.
The screenplay sits comfortably at a decent level. It avoids major missteps or glaring inconsistencies, and the dialogue holds up throughout without any noticeable drops in quality, even if it never aims for particular complexity.
This film introduces the idea of the house as a gateway to other dimensions, a concept that would be explored more fully in the follow-up House II: The Second Story (released in Italy as La casa di Helen) and, to a lesser extent, in House IV.
There’s no shortage of ideas here, if anything the opposite: at times it feels as though there are too many, with some only partially developed when they could have been taken much further. One of the most striking examples is the notion of a mirror acting as a portal to a dark dimension inhabited by flying creatures, a concept that could have been expanded more extensively, especially considering how original it felt at the time, long before it became so overused.
This becomes a defining trait of the series: all four films carry this same signature, an overabundance of ideas, though it is most noticeable in this first chapter. The film is packed with surprises, brought to life through a wide array of monsters, ghosts, and zombies. Among them, the standout is undoubtedly the Vietnam veteran zombie, the vengeful and ruthless Big Ben, a character that leaves a lasting impression thanks to his old-school yet effective makeup.
The other “visitors” are just as memorable: the creature in the grotesque purple outfit that first appears in the form of Roger's wife; the bizarre entity Roger describes to his neighbor as a giant groundhog, emerging from the closet every night at 12:30; the small creatures attempting to abduct the neighbor's child; and the winged monster lurking beyond the mirror…
All rendered through unmistakably '80s practical effects, somewhat crude and artificial by today’s standards, yet carrying a charm that makes those years hard not to miss.
The decision to weave the story through flashbacks, alongside Roger's gradual uncovering of the house's secrets, proves particularly effective.
House is one of those films that can leave a strong impression when seen at the right age, lingering as a fond memory. Viewed with a more critical eye, however, its flaws, or perhaps better described as moments of naïveté, become more apparent.
Review by decker
