Spoiler Free Synopsis
A deranged rich man finds himself haunted by the ghost of his late wife.
This festering pile of crap first splattered across screens in 1971. It embarrassed actors Anthony Steffen, Marina Malfatti, and Enzo Tarasio, or at least it should have. Massimo Felisatti, Fabio Pittorru, and Emilio Miraglia allowed it to be known that they wrote the damn thing, making them braver men than I. Emilio Miraglia went on to direct more movies, for reasons not clear to myself or, in all likelihood, any one else in the world.
This is a Golden Oldie review, written several years ago and only mildly changed for the endless reboot of this site. Of course, it was rewritten during the previous reboot of the site that I didn’t finish, thus making it one of the oldest things I’ve written for this blog.
And yes I rebooted the reboot before the reboot had finished rebooting. That’s just how I roll. Rebooting things that probably didn’t need rebooting in the first place.
I vowed never to see this movie again.
Why, you might add?
To keep things spoiler free (why?), The Night Evelyn Rose from the Grave made me mad. Furious, even. Rereading the review for this reboot, I could see just where Past Cullen lost all his happy thoughts and went ballistic.
So had me my druthers, I’d just post the old review and walk away whistling cheerfully.
Except I can’t. As it is the second movie I reviewed for the site and by that point the format I kinda stick to these days hadn’t gelled just yet. Thus a rewrite is in order.
Thus I’m watching The Night Evelyn Rose from the Grave again.
It’s not all gloom and doom. They say every seven years we become new people, down to the cellular level. It hasn’t been that long yet; it hasn’t even reached six years even. But maybe in that time I’ve become who likes this kind of film.
I hope not. But it could happen.
Another hope spot: the film I watched all those years ago is but one of nine different versions. Three years ago I learned that I happened to own one of the other versions. One with an extra sixteen minutes. Perhaps this version will be better.
Of course I’m sitting here screaming sixteen more minutes of this film! in my mind.
At least I hope it’s my mind…
That silliness a side, turn the page (metaphorically speaking) for The Night Evelyn Rose from the Grave, the rewatch.