THE DEVIL'S DAUGHTER/CRAWLSPACE

Dan Curtis revolutionized the way in which Network television viewed horror entertainment with his production of Night Stalker in the 1970s. Showing the stuffed shirts that people were truly interested in the supernatural, favoring sensational subject matter with more enthusiasm than ever before, Curtis and company made way for a slew of imitators. While few of these showed the same emotional fervor of craftsmanship, many did manage to spin out some satisfyingly spooky entertainment. Pulp fiction for the dinner table, these macabre prime time marvels are making a come back as suave DVD companies harken willing fans back to the gory glory days of yesteryear. Wild Eye DVD proves that seventies horror television is still capable of evoking a shudder of nostalgia in fans old enough to have recalled seeing these thrillers on the glass teat. The Devil's Daughter and Crawlspace are two rarities that combine solid craftsmanship and morbid themes, both enhanced by above average performances and a palpable sense of atmosphere.

The supernatural and its cosmic implications has been a subject of lasting fascination since the first group of men sought to understand what terrified them in the dark of the cave. Appealing to both what we as a species fear and what we secretly lust for when we dare peer into the darkness of our hearts, the occult has lost none of its penchant for challenging and entertaining us, as pertinent now as in the grand days of Dante's Inferno. And while The Devil's Daughter has none of the pathos or craftsmanship of either of these examples, it is a lean, emotionally effective spook show firmly entrenched in the sensationalistic tradition. Surprisingly serious in its approach, the script is intelligent in its treatment of both the uncanny and characters which we're made to care about.

Borrowing from Polanski's Rosemary's Baby, this titillating thriller also steals from various other literary and folklore sources for its tale of demonic pacts and modern black magic. Attractive if somewhat naïve Diane Shaw (Belinda J. Montgomery) finds herself the recipient of unwanted occult attention as a result of her mother (Diane Ladd) having belonged to a Satanic cult. The back story reveals that dear old Mom promised Diane to Old Scratch when she turned twenty one. When she tries to back out of the deal (never a good idea, folks!) she is shot for her troubles. Unaware of the family secret, Diane befriends Lilith Malone (Shelley Winters) at her mother's funeral, accepting an invitation to stay at the woman's home. Amidst a stealthily gloomy atmosphere, Diane pieces together disconcerting hints of her destiny. As she attempts to take control of her life by moving out and starting an affair, unseen forces gather around her, threatening everyone she cares about. Lilith and the other coven members aren't going to let their little lamb free without a fight . . . and they have Satan on their side.

References to other occult chillers aside, The Devil's Daughter manages to retain its own identity. While it doesn't stand out by contributing anything original to the occult story pot, and is neither unique or well crafted enough to count as a truly important picture, a suitably chilling atmosphere permeates the film. Tension begins slowly, with subtle nuances of character development and incident taking time reveal themselves. This invites further believability -- something that comes in handy during the final act, which explodes at a furious pace. Performances are professional and the casting a piece of inspired eccentricity, featuring Shelly Winters, Joseph Cotton, Diane Ladd, Jonathon Frid, etc.

The Devil's Daughter is presented by Wild Eye DVD in an attractive 1.33.1 fullframe aspect ratio that, while certainly viewable, suffers from a washed out print and faded colors. Audio is featured in English Dolby Digital Mono, and is serviceable (if flawed) by background noise. Alas, no special features are included.

Crawlspace, the second title in the "TV Movie Terror Collection," is a deceitful little dark gem of a psycho thriller that appears to be little more than sensationalistic clap-trap but which soon reveals itself to be a satisfyingly subversive study of loneliness and terror.

More concerned with character and accumulating suspense than in graphic viscera or particularly lurid thrills, the major tension and outpourings of horror on display are left to the imagination. These primarily stem from character relationships and tragic consequences of good intentions rather than any blood thirst. As such, this is a decent example (particularly for television) of the thinking man's thriller, dressed up with enough suspense and distorted tension that various age groups may find it worthwhile.

First broadcast in 1972, Crawlspace features retirees Albert Graves (Arthur Kennedy) and Alice Graves (Teresa Wright), a kindly and well meaning old couple who live in well-earned seclusion in the countryside. This changes when a momentary act of kindness is rewarded by an explosive nightmare. When Richard, a young repairman, shows up to fix their heater, the couple invite him to stay for a relaxing dinner. In a nightmarish nod to the absurdity of Kafka or Borges, the man unexpectedly quits his job, leaves his old life behind, and takes up residence in their basement! Stranger yet, the old couple harbor no immediate ill feelings towards the man, spurred to kindness by their own lack of children and encroaching loneliness. They feed and clothe him, and, like a reluctant puppy, he comes out of hiding and becomes a part of their small family. Soon, though, it becomes apparent that their guest has some dark secrets, not the least of which is impulsive violence that can be set off at any moment. The ghosts of a haunted past, a demented mind, and a rash act of violence lets loose a torrent of tragic justice.

Director John Newland imbues increasingly taunt moments with haunting atmosphere, mirrored by characters that break out of type and become, if but momentarily, living, breathing human beings. This makes the resulting terror more effective and intimate. A disturbing current of enigmatic nightmare is contained in the person of Tom Happer. His performance is low key and believable, resonating with confused but palpable menace beneath a slow-witted appearance.

Crawlspace is presented in its original full frame ratio. Taken from the original 16mm source print, the quality of the picture is of acceptable if not gorgeous quality. While some damage and soft picture quality is evident, it doesn't really hamper the film. English Mono is clear save for minor background noise. Again, no extras are included.

Review by William Simmons