Intercontinental, 1987

starring: Adrienne Barbeau, Joseph Bottoms, Barry Hope, and Darwyn Swalve

directed by: Jag Mundhra

the plot: There’s trouble brewing in the booming California real estate market. Real estate agent Lisa Grant (Barbeau) is locked in a bitter conflict with Barney Resnick (Hope), a sleazy real estate agent who’s not above trashing a competitor’s property in order to stop a sale. Resnick turns out to be the least of Grant’s problems, though—a madman (Swalve) is targeting real estate agents and no one is safe. Meanwhile, Grant’s boyfriend, Dr. Dave Kelley (Bottoms), a psychiatrist with a popular radio call-in show, is receiving calls from someone claiming to be the “Open House Killer.” Kelley tries to reason with the man, but to no avail. Soon, both Kelley and Grant find themselves the target of the killer and must attempt to outwit the madman.

why it’s good: Was there an unofficial race going on among the studios churning out low-budget horror flicks in the 1980s to find the most ridiculous theme on which to hang an entire movie? If so, “Open House” must be the winner. With most major holidays and workplaces taken, director Jag Mundhra was forced to mine the gripping real estate industry for cheap thrills and the result is about as enthralling as a timeshare presentation. “Open House” is a boring film that seems cobbled together from three other movies. A subplot about a radio psychiatrist with a tragic past is grafted on to a meandering, pointless film about real estate intrigue, all topped with a clichéd slasher flick setup. That’s why we’re treated to an entire sequence devoted to a real estate board meeting (“Glengarry Glen Ross” this is not), as well as long stretches at Dr. Kelley’s radio station, which is staffed entirely by stereotypes (a black guy, a gay dude, and a Latino). How a board meeting, of all things, made it into the final script is one of the many mysteries about “Open House.” Mundhra would go on to direct soft-core Skinemax fare with titles like “Sexual Malice” and “Irresistible Impulse,” which explains why the scary bits of “Open House” (which are devoid of tension and logic) pale in comparison to the sexy bits (which aren’t sexy and are actually pretty boring). When those two elements collide, the result is laughable. In one scene, a homeowner takes a break from her gig as a dominatrix to skinny dip in the Playboy Mansion-style grotto in her backyard, only to find the severed head of her client. Later, Mundhra throws all sense of time and place out the window as the killer manages to walk past the radio station’s entire staff and kidnap Barbeau in time for the exposition-laden climax. It’s nonsense like that that makes “Open House” a property best left unvisited.

why you should own it: Thankfully, “Open House” remains out of print on DVD, though VHS copies are still lurking out there. Random airings on cable are the only way to catch this turkey, though if you’re lucky, like us in the Video Vault, your viewing will be interrupted by a test of the Emergency Broadcast System. —