Drive-In Dust Offs: THE LEGACY (1978)

The Creative Death sub-sub-genre took flight in the ‘70s with The Omen (1976), as that little imp Damien (and his dad) dispatched the cast in different macabre and entertaining ways. (Variety is the spice, and all that.) The ’78 sequel continued the burgeoning tradition, leading us up to The Legacy (1978) - a film that takes its own stab at variety by marrying The Old Dark House to The Dark Underlord and delivering a fun, wicked (albeit goofy) little offspring.

Released in September in the U.K. (and the following September stateside) by Columbia-EMI-Warner (and Universal in the U.S.), The Legacy brought in $11 million against its $2.5 million budget, making it a commercial if not critical success. That this British/American co-production manages to combine their unique aesthetics into something coherent is and of itself some kind of horror miracle.

Maggie (Katharine Ross – The Stepford Wives) and her boyfriend Pete (Sam Elliott – Ghost Rider), a Californian interior design team, receive a cheque from a company in England that wishes to hire them, so off they go, starting with some gratuitous London sightseeing set to vacuous ‘70s music. (We really need to talk about certain horror films’ use of a jarring upbeat soundtrack. Here goes: Stop it.) They rent a motorcycle and are “accidentally” run off the road by the wealthy client who hired them, Jason Mountolive (John Standing – V for Vendetta). As their motorcycle has been damaged, they catch a ride back to his vast estate, and are joined in short order by five wealthy individuals, all wearing identical silver rings.

As their attempts to retrieve the motorcycle are continuously thwarted, Maggie and Pete learn that the five others have been summoned, as one of them is to receive Jason’s inheritance as his dying wish – which is odd, because the man who gave them a ride could not be the same Jason lying withered in a glass encased, curtained hospital bed surrounded by nurses. Could he? (Well…) As the “guests” are unceremoniously dispatched, one by one, Maggie begins to suspect that Mountolive’s reasoning for calling her to England goes far beyond fixing his feng shui. Is it possible that Maggie has been chosen to receive…The Legacy?

Considering the alternate title is The Legacy of Maggie Walsh, that’s kind of a given. It’s not really a spoiler, either; once the would-be heirs begin dropping, the intent is clear that the name at the top of the bill will receive all the spoils. So, as it is with any Creative Death movie (the Final Destination flicks being our modern day standard), we watch like bystanders in blood soaked bleachers as director Richard Marquand (Return of the Jedi) and writers Jimmy Sangster, Patrick Tilley, and Paul Wheeler dole out the murder. This has some doozies too – trapped under water, death by ham, and fireplace immolation are only a few of the novel ways in which the cast are dispatched.

Sangster’s influence is felt in the interaction between the (rightfully so) suspicious guests, stiff upper lips and underhanded etiquette that only the British can bring to the screen. His extensive work with Hammer (Horror of Dracula, The Mummy, and on and on) infuses the proceedings with a certain class that elevates the admittedly silly premise to a slightly less silly one. His fondness for the grandeur of horror bears out in Ravenhurst Manor’s darkened halls and twisted staircases, wrapping what is essentially a satanic infused body count film in an elegant decadence.

Which turns out to be a blessing, because style is not usually Marquand’s forte. He did a lot of TV before moving on to features, and it shows; the majority of the film looks flat albeit picturesque in its countryside setting and towering estate. However, he suddenly springs to life when in counts: the killings. He brings a palpable energy to the “accidents”, which are so well choreographed that one wishes they had doubled the cast to increase the carnage. It’s a shame he never had the chance to do more horror before his early passing; he gives good death.

The mostly British cast underplay nicely. Standing, Ian Hogg (Rasputin), Charles Gray (The Rocky Horror Picture Show), and even The Who frontman Roger Daltrey all find the proper droll frequency for this chamber piece of doom. Ross and Elliott were wisely cast then, quiet actors who blend in while acting as our carnage conduits. (For those who keep track, the film earns an extra star for Elliott’s moustache alone – any film it appears in does. I don’t make the rules.)

The film tries to cram in so many elements and mostly succeeds; the British manor acts as an unusual backdrop for the American Way of Death, and Gothic touches (POV’s of aged hands pulling back drapery) mesh well with the more visceral moments. The Legacy may not be the cutest baby on the block, but it does comes with a surprisingly sharpened set of chompers. Just remember that when you lean in to pinch a cheek.

The Legacy is available on Blu-ray from Scream Factory.