Grad students filming a documentary on a supposedly cursed house in Wisconsin get in over their heads when all the legendary spookiness proves to be true... and pretty damn dangerous. We open up with a priest (Mark Metcalf) talking to his doctor at the asylum he now calls home following his encounter with evil at the infamous Buth house. He rambles about visions and whatnot until he jams a pen in his eye to end his torment. So we know this haunted house ain’t fuckin’ around. We jump ahead two years and join our young group of dead meat as they do some research on the property and its long and tragic history. There’s more than a few bodies in its past and we get some glimpses at all the awfulness staining the joint like red wine on a white rug. In 1932, a couple criminals hold up there with a kidnapped socialite while one of them bleeds out from a gut shot. A difficult hostage and some insanity-inducing shenanigans complicate everything. In 1977, two couples have their night of horny fun ruined when whatever evil infecting the whole place takes notice of their trespassing. The past runs into the present and the future begins to look like it’s no longer an option for our curious quartet of students. There’s a cool-lookin’ specter with a pantyhose-covered face wrapped in barbed wire, an overacting goofy-ass doctor, Christopher Walken impressions and a goat-boy twist on Milkshake by Kelis. It’s decent enough and has some low-budget nastiness in its back pocket to make you turn the other cheek when it comes to some of the weak acting and noticeably lacking aspects on the production side of things.
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