House (1977): A nonsensical rollercoaster of emotions
As the Halloween season comes to a head and all things spooky find a way to creep into the spotlight, I have been looking for a film that compliments the season just right, and let me tell you, this was a choice which doesn’t reflect that! Upon talking with one of my fellow Lamron staff, they told me I should watch House (1977)—directed and produced by Nobuhiko Obayashi—not just because of the time of year, but (most importantly to me), the antagonist is a fluffy munchkin cat. Though sounding nonsensical—trust me, we will get there—this film embraces its wacky and borderline unhinged elements, which, when combined, create a genuinely mind-boggling watch that I have yet to recover from and probably never will.
Before diving into it, let me set the stage for you: the film centers on a group of seven girls—Gorgeous, played by Kimiko Ikegami; Kung Fu, played by Miki Jinbo; Prof, played by Ai Matsubara; Fantasy, played by Kumiko Oba; Mac, played by Mieko Sato; Sweet, played by Masayo Miyako; and Melody, played by Eriko Tanaka—as they go on a summer vacation to Gorgeous’s aunts’ house, following the remarriage of her father to a random woman while he was away on a business trip. Gorgeous struggles to cope with her newfound reality—she doesn’t want her father to move on from her mother, who died three years prior—and flees to her aunt, played by Yōko Minamida, referred to as Auntie throughout the film. While at Auntie’s house, the girls become increasingly aware that something evil is afoot but realize it is too late to stop what’s about to come.
The main plot of this film is nonsensical and nowhere near as neat as I just established it. As the film goes on, we are introduced to a cat named Blanche (White), seemingly an omnipresent figure who is in every scene, lurking just out of eyesight, or is shown through paintings scattered about, all the while tagging along with the girls wherever they go, even appearing randomly at times by their side with no explanation. This cat is revealed to be the Auntie’s cat, and also a witch—something alluded to many times by the main group, who says, “a normal cat can open a door, but only a witch cat can close it,” which within itself is a crazy line of dialogue. Blanche’s abilities as a witch turn out to be the ability to manipulate objects or people, but it’s unclear whether these actions are truly the witch’s own, or Auntie working through the cat: wild, right?
With the background out of the way, this movie’s main call to fame are its comedic and over-the-top kills, having such memorable kills as a pile of futons crushing and teleporting a woman into a grandfather clock, a light fixture eating someone, and a piano consuming a girl bit by bit. Everything about this film screams that it was made with comedic, lighthearted fun in mind, even going as far as to have a character use Kung Fu against a hoard of possessed objects. Yet the result turns into something I just can’t help but scratch my head at, unsure if what I just saw was real or a mania-induced fantasy (unrelated to the character by the same name).
I found myself taken aback by the enormous amount of camera cuts, transition effects, and the unique method of displaying gore, which, even for a movie of its era, feels incredibly dated. Alongside this was the confusing antagonistic force, Blanche, who acted as both Auntie and the cat. This force aims to eat the bodies and essence of young girls—those with a chance to get married. This goal stems from a one-off line of dialogue that explained that Auntie’s husband was murdered in World War II during the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, an event which she was never able to cope with, waiting for him until she passed away relatively soon after. Because of this tragic event, she became a malicious spirit who can never move on, wanting to drag everyone she comes into contact with down to her level—a classic case of “If I can’t have it, no one can.”
The result of this incredibly dense and elaborate story turns out to be the most incomprehensible film I have ever seen. However, at the same time, I found myself incredibly engaged with it—maybe for the wrong reasons—throughout the runtime, trying to unscramble any semblance of a narrative being told to me. Everything about this film, from dialogue to its very execution, is comically bad, leading me to deem it a “so bad it’s good film.” Nevertheless, this article will not do this psychotic film any justice—you must experience this rollercoaster firsthand.
With this being said, though, being incredibly cramped and chaotic, this film can maintain your attention simply due to its insane scene structure, offering an experience that doesn’t take itself seriously, instead actively laughing with the audience at its stupidity. This is in no way a film that is award worthy, but this is certainly a film that you can watch with friends and collectively laugh at the lunacy unfolding in front of you. So, if this article has intrigued you, I highly suggest you watch House (1977).