CTHULHU MANSION (1992)
Unknowingly, I have been collecting the works of one J.P. Simon. That's not a common name in horror circles (maybe in horror trapezoids), but the guy has a fierce resume. He knocked Slugs out of the park, and ironically, he can be held accountable for Mystery on Monster Island. I don't know anything about him. Could be super swell. I do know that he had a passionate relationship with mediocrity. Man, I kept waiting for Cthulhu Mansion to enthuse me with a pendulous stroke of spleen-melting b-movie magic, but it just sat there with a stern face. It was almost as if it wanted me - the innocent viewer - to fill in the blanks. Some filmmakers will say that the human mind can dream up stuff more terrifying than anything they could show you. They're either lying or they're lazy. This film is the latter. Granted, it scores brownie points for opening at a carnival. Plot summary incoming!
A drug deal goes haywire, which prods a group of undesirables into taking a magician hostage (with his lovely assistant in tow). By the way, the magician is named Chandu. That's kind of important. Actually, it's not important at all, but be that as it may, we wind up at Chandu's gothic abode. If you're wondering what that has to do with Cthulhu, I wondered that myself. The house has vaguely Lovecraftian powers that present as everything from blood showers to hideous refrigerator hands (of course, the hands attach to nothing). It's a shame. The ghostly atmosphere means that director Simon fabricated a handful of respectable shots that could have come from a better movie. To his credit, I wanted to see how Cthulhu Mansion resolved itself. Meh. This review is exactly two paragraphs too long.
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