Sleazy and cheesy response to Shirley Jackson's superlative The Haunting of Hill House. If you read Jackson's book and thought, "I wish this was really dumb and had tits in it" then Richard Matheson has got you covered.
I have no idea why this is considered by so many to be a horror classic. Maybe it was boundary pushing in 1970, with its frank depictions of poltergeist activity and cunnilingus, but to what purpose?
I'm sure Richard Matheson was not untalented. He provided screenplays for several of my favorite films. That talent is not much in evidence here, though. There's one scene that nearly reaches a pitch of true delirium (and earns it an extra star from me) but it's not enough.