This movie aspires to be the sort of creepy, eerie suspense movie that we have so often seen take place in baronial English estates, only this time transplanted to the rural USA. It tries very hard, propelled primarily by the fine work of Judith Anderson and - especially - Edward G. Robinson. All the elements are there - hidden family secrets, mysterious places to which "you must never go," dark windswept nights, lonely trails in the woods, etc. Etc. However the whole thing never quite gels. Part of the problem is the overlay of a teenage love triangle (played by people too old for the parts) which distracts from the main story and which I strongly suspect is not found in the book on which the movie is based, but was doubtless added for what they thought would be audience interest. The flick starts well but after a while just bogs down.
Review of The Red House
