Death at Love House (1976)

Don't listen to the negative reviews

It's hard to see any effort in the film. There's no comedy to speak of, no real drama and, worst of all.

Great story, amazing characters, superb action, enthralling cinematography. Yes, this is something I am glad I spent money on.

The story, direction, characters, and writing/dialogue is akin to taking a tranquilizer shot to the neck, but everything else was so well done.

Although broadcast on Sept 3 1976, "Death at Love House" carries a 1975 copyright, an indication that, for once, producer Aaron Spelling figured he had a real loser on his hands (this wasn't "Crowhaven Farm"). It works to some extent as nostalgia, aided by some expert casting and shooting on the fabulous Harold Lloyd Greenacres estate. What doesn't work is just about everything else, in particular the poorly filmed footage meant to be from the 1920s, which looks as modern as actress Mariana Hill, whose unspectacular career would end sooner than veteran costars Sylvia Sidney and Dorothy Lamour. Robert Wagner also looks out of place in the flashbacks, and not too well in the current storyline, leaving the dependable Kate Jackson to do all the heavy lifting, with an assist from MAUDE's Bill Macy. Wagner and Jackson are not only married, they are also collaborating on a biography of the mysterious Lorna Love (Mariana Hill), a Clara Bow-type silent screen siren adored by all, except for the few who really got to know her well before her untimely death. As movie director Conan Carroll, who had actually been in love with Lorna before she betrayed him for another, John Carradine is able to share some of his bitterness with the would-be authors before expiring near Lorna's shrine of beauty. Dorothy Lamour gets good mileage as Lorna's greatest screen rival, and ever vivacious Joan Blondell displays her darling dimples yet again as the president of Lorna's now defunct fan club. The prime cast member turns out to be Sylvia Sidney, her career actually dating back to the 20s, as the longtime caretaker of Lorna's estate, who knows just how deeply the star truly loved her departed Joel, lookalike father of Robert Wagner's character. Had there been more meat in the script we might have had reason to fear as Kate Jackson does, but Wagner's writer comes off as a cold fish, hardly worthy of any women's eternal devotion. As weak as the whole thing plays out (nothing supernatural or ghostly goings on) the climactic twist is actually worth the wait, though DARK SHADOWS veteran Kate deserved better, and had shared the screen with Carradine in one episode of her earlier triumph THE ROOKIES, just before CHARLIE'S ANGELS took off.

A biographer and his wife move into the old Hollywood mansion of 1930s movie star Lorna Love, who died at a young age and whose body lies in state on the property--embalmed and behind glass. The couple is writing a book on Lorna and want to be close to her spirit, but get more than they bargained for (surely other books about such a world famous star had been written before, but the movie doesn't take details like that into consideration). The agenda here is to have the writer, whose own father once had a torrid affair with Lorna, become hypnotized by the girl's portrait and turn against his wife, all while someone dressed in black is lurking around causing trouble. Tacky TV-movie from the prolific producing team of Aaron Spelling and Leonard Goldberg, here working with a fifth-rate script, a cheap rehash of 1968's "The Legend of Lylah Clare" (itself a mishmash of movie memories). Kate Jackson runs from room to room in the mansion calling out for husband Robert Wagner, who isn't doing any writing; Sylvia Sidney is the faithful housekeeper, still on staff in the empty house; and Joan Blondell is a friend from the old days who hints that Lorna and she were involved in witchcraft. The sepia-toned flashbacks are well done, though Marianna Hill is all wrong as Lorna Love (she's too modern), and James Barnett's teleplay is full of dead ends and deadly talk. A twist at the finish line brings up more questions than Barnett or director E.W. Swackhamer could ever hope to answer, while Wagner's book (a MacGuffin, as it turns out) appears to be permanently shelved.

Don't worry - no spoilers here, just saying there is a very predictable plot. A couple decide to live in his father's love nest so they can write a book/article/newsletter on his fling with a famous tragic Hollywood starlet. This whole production ran kind of like a high school troupe doing an episode of "Murder She Wrote". The only acting I was sold on was the old fogy's they interviewed for sources in the story. Apparently the directors thought the movie was getting too long, so towards the end they stopped pointing their camera to a kind of creepy image of the starlet and brought in plot enhancers to wrap this thing up. Don't waste your time - even the tried and true horror/intrigue classics fail in this movie.

Even at a trim 70 or so minutes, this TV-movie seems a bit slow and padded at times. Wagner and Jackson are married writers doing a book on "legendary" 1930's screen star Hill. They move into her estate (governed by a Mrs. Danvers-Lite type of housekeeper played by Sidney) and begin to research the life and career of this tempestuous talent. On the grounds of the estate, Hill's body is carefully embalmed and visible through a glass tomb. Wagner, whose father was her lover, slowly becomes enraptured by her appeal and begins to have flashbacks (possibly enhanced by witchcraft) of his father and Hill while Jackson frets and faces various spooky obstacles. The story is somewhat intriguing, but the execution is routine in the extreme. Hill exudes all the 1930's glamour and presence of, say, Cheryl Ladd or Suzanne Somers. With anachronistic hot-rolled hair and contemporary demeanor, she hardly evokes the necessary period details. Wagner and Jackson do okay jobs, though their roles are sketchy at best. It's nice to see Sidney in her usual crusty, tight-lipped mode (wearing what has to be THE reddest lipstick available!) There is also an opportunity for real-life Hollywood veterans Blondell, Carradine and Lamour to do something other than "The Love Boat" and keep their health insurance going. All in all, it's a mildly clever story with familiar actors, hampered by murky photography and a lackadaisical approach.