You turn off your lights, pop in the DVD, and instead of being treated to creepy music and opening credits, you are forced to endure... a scream. Not a normal scream, mind you, but a primordial scream, one that can only be uttered by someone who is about to experience her last breaths of life.

A rich eccentric invites strangers to his mammoth haunted mansion in the middle of nothingness. They are to be brought there by hearse. The rules of the game are simple: if they complete one night in the house, they receive $10,000. Superficially, that description yields visions of a straight-forward movie with an interesting opening, a compelling climax, and a whole lot of random ghostly action in the middle. Instead, The House on Haunted Hill steps up to the plate and deals the audience a sublime, complicated, interwoven tour de force that has never been replicated.

There are two assets of this film that push it to the top of the heap. The first is director William Castle’s ability to blend outlandish frights with subtle creepiness. For this, I return to the opening scene. A scream in and of itself is not necessarily terror-inducing as the audience expects that the cause of the scream will soon be revealed. Castle fails to grant us this courtsey. The scream grows in urgency, and our spines start to crawl when the scream becomes so prolonged, so desperate, and the screen is still so dark. We feel like helpless observers to a terrible crime and we angst to know what is happening. We never discover it. A floating head appears on the screen. We are being taken on a voyage into a haunted house. Survival is optional. You got me, Mr. Castle -- I’m hooked.

The difference between this film and other films with strong opening sequences is that throughout the entire film Castle never once allows his audience to breathe. House on Haunted Hill’s opening is on par with the notoriously acclaimed opening of When a Stranger Calls (claimed by many to be the most terrifying 10 minutes ever put on celluloid), however unlike When A Stranger Calls, the suspense level that was attained in the opening sequence of House on Haunted Hill is upheld through the entire film. Castle accomplishes this by flip-flopping between sheer primal terror and Hitchcockian eeriness. Following the primal scream, we see a barrage of hearses inching slowly, as if tentatively, toward a large mansion with a brilliantly scored murder-mystery theme playing. The audience is thinking that “yes, we’ve survived the scream... phew... wait hearses? Creepy music? Nope, I can’t relax yet.” Castle understands the terror of the unknown, and he uses this to his advantage even between the “true frights.” Every inch of this uncharted abode is presented to the audience as the last place these characters may ever see. You get the feeling that anything could happen at any time, because there are no set-ups, no “oh, it’s just the cat" moments, no rules. Besides Hitchcock, there isn’t another director who can keep this up for a full-length movie so well.

Castle’s films were made on a low-budget and therefore he did not have the means to create the best-quality special effects of the time. So he had to use more innovative methods for pulling off the frights. This is no better seen than in The House on Haunted Hill. The first scene of note is the “creepy ghost scene.” Castle’s use of widescreen is exceptional when the camera pans away and the audience sees the ghost floating slowly from one end of the screen and another. It is simply a guy with creepy makeup on a dolly, but the fluidity and the patience Castle exhibits for the ghost’s movements make it downright sinister. This also holds true with the “female ghost with the rope” scene. The ghostly movements were made with simple camera cuts and an eerie score, but Castle treats this “middle scene” like most directors would treat a climax scene, by being emotionally and mentally methodical. In this scene, we feel the victim’s terror. We see everything the victim sees and everything she will soon see. We understand why she stands frozen in terror as the rope wraps itself around her leg. We physically see her moving from “shocked” to “terrified” as the ghost comes slowly toward her window. We get it because Castle puts us behind the victim’s eyes.

If the first asset of this film was Castle’s directing, the second asset of the film belongs to the writer, Robb White (13 Ghosts). The question this movie seeks to answer is a simple one, “Is the house haunted or not?” However, the path that White takes to get the answer is the literary equivalent of a Tilt-a-Whirl. Instead of gradually nudging the audience down one path only to hit them with a surprise at the end, White bombards the audience with a significant plot twists scene after scene after scene, failing to stop until the closing credits. He doesn’t treat us to a “one, two... punch!”, he gives us a “one, two... and then an uppercut, a jab, and a kick to the head" until we are heads are dizzy. This guerilla writing style alone is a rarity in this genre, but to do so in such a fashion that the tone, the level of suspense, and the plot refuses to falter even once? That’s a cinematic solar eclipse.

And, finally, a mention of Vincent Price’s role is overdue. Vincent played the title role of this film with the style, grace, and menace we’ve come to expect from him, so much so that the thought of remaking the movie with another actor in his role (which occurred in 1999) sent many horror fans into gastrointestinal distress. But Price didn’t just bring acting chops; his mere presence brought an air of dignity to the film. This film may well have been forgotten if it wasn’t for Price’s presence. A well-crafted script and flawless direction will only take you so far in this celebrity-driven business. But by adding a horror movie icon to such a small little film, all of the sudden, this “little film that could” becomes an international movie event that will never be forgotten.

On a timeline spanning the entire history of the horror movie genre, there are certain notches delineating important steps for the genre. Dracula, Frankenstein, and The Exorcist among others will be noted. For the year of 1959, that notch belongs to The House on Haunted Hill. No other movie from this time period has been so remarkable, stylish, terrifying, and such an inspiration for new writers and directors of the genre. Flawlessly executed, this film is the quintessential reason why we love classic horror. Take it for a spin this season. Is the house on Haunted Hill really haunted? Is it not? Decide for yourself.