1976's "Burnt Offerings" may not be accepted fare for dismissive critics like Roger Ebert, yet viewers who saw it at the time were essentially traumatized for life by its undeniably effective mood. Robert Marasco's 1973 novel was the result of an unproduced screenplay (the only novel he ever wrote), and director Dan Curtis was not enamored of the inconclusive ending, yet accepted the challenge of doing a rare foray into theatrical films using much the same personnel that he worked with on the infamous "Trilogy of Terror," in particular leading lady Karen Black, beefing up an impressive cast with burly Oliver Reed, screen legend Bette Davis, and brief appearances from Burgess Meredith, Eileen Heckart, and Dub Taylor. The accursed Dunsmuir mansion was located in Oakland, California, built in 1899 for $350,000 as a wedding gift for his bride by Alexander Dunsmuir; unfortunately, he himself died on their honeymoon while the widow only lived another 18 months before cancer claimed her young life (this locale would later be seen in "Phantasm" and "A View to a Kill"). Ben Rolf (Reed), wife Marian (Black), son David (Lee H. Montgomery), and elderly Aunt Elizabeth (Davis), accept an offer to rent a rundown estate for the summer at a measly $900, so long as they look after the grounds and provide regular meals for an invalid on the top floor (the owners curiously vanish before they arrive, but leave the kitchen fully stocked). Ben cleans out and refills the pool, but a friendly swim with his son turns deadly when he inexplicably holds the boy beneath the water, the lad fighting back by striking his father's bloodied nose. The alert and cheerful Elizabeth begins losing her vitality, David almost dies from a gas leaking heater in his locked bedroom, and Marian's increasing avoidance of family (and bedroom) obligations puts her husband on the defensive. The son is just as much a cipher on screen as he was on the printed page, and Karen Black's subpar, one note performance assures an utterly predictable climax, so it's up to Oliver Reed and Bette Davis to shoulder the acting burdens and neither disappoints, allowing for some degree of audience empathy (Anthony James as a grinning hearse driver offers additional chills). There's little intrinsically scary about the house itself, but its ability to 'shed' shingles to renew itself is certainly an interesting touch, helping it stand out from similar fare such as "The Legend of Hell House" (the hidden cemetery is one intriguing subplot that sadly goes nowhere). Like its downbeat source material, the picture can accurately be described as a 'slow burn' best recommended for patient viewers, its underwhelming box office assuring that Dan Curtis would confine himself to television for the remainder of his career.
Review of Burnt Offerings
