No need to repeat the plot. Despite a catch-penny title and a no-name origin, this is a spellbinding horror film. It's also a work of considerable subtlety that doesn't tip its hand in obvious ways. I can see why many dislike the results—the title promises one thing, whereas the results amount to something else. Then too, it's slowly paced, depending more on mood and morbid interest than the more familiar mayhem and gore. Nonetheless, the overall effect tends to be cumulative, such that once you're drawn in, you can't let go. And judging from the number of comments on the Message Board, it's a seductive film, indeed.
Making the main character (Lampert) a recovering mental patient places an overriding ambiguity at the story's center—how many of her creepy experiences are real and how many are imagined. My take is that most are real, whereas the whispers are imagined. But no interpretation, I believe, can be conclusive, which is how it should be for a film like this.
To me psychological horror is much more effective than the palpable kind, since imagination is scarier than obvious blood and gore. The reviewer who likens mood and predicament here to Bergman's highbrow Hour of the Wolf (1968) makes an apt comparison despite the difference in pedigree. There's also a lot of 1940's horror-meister Val Lewton here, as well.
It's hard to say enough about Lampert's beguiling performance. It's also one reason the film's so seductive. I'm just sorry she didn't have more of the headline career her talent deserves. Anyway, the movie came as a happy surprise. Because I was fooled by the exploitative title, I did have to watch it a second time in order to try to put the various threads together. Despite the budgetary lapses, the movie can hold its own with such atmospheric classics as The Other (1972) and Don't Look Now (1973). So don't miss it, unless you want things spelled out in tidy fashion.
Making the main character (Lampert) a recovering mental patient places an overriding ambiguity at the story's center—how many of her creepy experiences are real and how many are imagined. My take is that most are real, whereas the whispers are imagined. But no interpretation, I believe, can be conclusive, which is how it should be for a film like this.
To me psychological horror is much more effective than the palpable kind, since imagination is scarier than obvious blood and gore. The reviewer who likens mood and predicament here to Bergman's highbrow Hour of the Wolf (1968) makes an apt comparison despite the difference in pedigree. There's also a lot of 1940's horror-meister Val Lewton here, as well.
It's hard to say enough about Lampert's beguiling performance. It's also one reason the film's so seductive. I'm just sorry she didn't have more of the headline career her talent deserves. Anyway, the movie came as a happy surprise. Because I was fooled by the exploitative title, I did have to watch it a second time in order to try to put the various threads together. Despite the budgetary lapses, the movie can hold its own with such atmospheric classics as The Other (1972) and Don't Look Now (1973). So don't miss it, unless you want things spelled out in tidy fashion.