We hate Hollywood remakes. Especially when they waste Vincent “The Thriller” Price’s talents on bad plot. When the promise of a gaggle of malevolent ghosts is superceded by an overly complicated, and uninteresting, murder plot we feel it’s time to open up a bottle of Jack and perform a cerebral enema.

See, Vinnie’s married to a gold digger of prospector proportions, and she wants to have a party in a “haunted house” to see who survives the night at the hands of the marauding spectres. Five guests are promised $10,000 each (in 1950s dollars) if they manage to stave off an early demise. So, with the introductions made, the groundskeepers lock them up and leave the film to pursue a lucrative career as the ghouls from the opening of “Scooby-Doo” cartoons.

But reading that is actually more interesting than watching House on Haunted Hill. Imagine Ten Little Indians or The Mousetrap minus all the suspense and lots more screaming from the generic damsel in distress. What’s worse is all the nifty supernatural events, like floating corpses of the recently deceased or ropes that move of their accord, are rendered comically absurd by revelation that this “party” is just code for “invite strangers, secure alibi, murder spouse.”

Promise of a decent ending came by way of a hanging corpse, a pool of acid in the basement, a bleeding ceiling and best of all a seemingly self-propelled avenging skeleton. In the end, a measly two deaths, though to be fair, they were dumped in acid.

Nary a sign of nudity, this was made in the ’50s after all, but it does have a marionette skeleton (no, really). We have to rate this movie at three nipple clamps to describe the torture we suffered. See it tonight.

Think you’ve seen something worse or seen something at the video store you don’t have the guts to rent? Send in any requests that aren’t Manos: The Hands of Fate to k_henryv@yahoo.com, and we’ll brave the rapids.