While passing over the "Under $10 DVDs" I grabbed Don't Look In the Basement, largely due to the fact that I am a glutton for shifty 1970's horror, but also because I try to indulge myself in sub-B level movies (that boast of Necrophilia!) to bring my heightened sense of appreciation for the genre back down to Earth. So will someone please hand me a shovel to dig my appreciation out of the crater it just left and to bury this movie in its place.
The movie opens in a large house removed from all of civilization, a home to the criminally insane and their "director". The "director" has developed the idea that if he allows the crazies to act out their wildest fantasies, the patients will eventually be cured. Cut to the lawn of the house where the director is allowing one of the patients, "Judge", to vent his aggresion by chopping a log with an axe. The good director soon finds out how effective his therapy stylings are when the axe gets firmly planted in his neck. Bad Judge, bad. Panic soon hits the loonies as the director's assistant rushes out to his aid and reprimands Judge for his terrible actions. The assistant orders one of the patients to "take care" of the director and then to wash up for dinner. Here I am thinking to myself "Okay, violence within the first 6 minutes of the movie is a good thing. Maybe I picked up a gem."
Shortly after the director's disposal we are introduced to a new character at the facility, a very attractive young nurse who was hired by the director to assist him in his assanine theraputic practices. The residing assistant declares that she is now the boss of the operation, the director is dead and any orders that he gave the nurse are now moot. But wait, for some reason unknown to the viewer, the assistant changes her mind and allows the nurse to stay. Kiddies, say hello to Mr. Plot Disintegration! The nurse now gets settled into the house and gets to meet the colorful personalities which include (in no particular order) a mute, the laughing asshole that looks like Carrot Top, the Judge, a necrophiliac and a lethargic black giant that likes boats. Now that the cast has been introduced, the director may proceed with the atrocities.
Lacking all sense of storyline and incorporating a poor character development were the driving points of the film that made me pick up the bottle. I don't know if it was Brownrigg's intention to lose the viewer after the first half our of the movie and fill the plot void with Nickelodeon-esque patients performing zany acts, but the circus atmosphere presented to induce manic feelings into the viewer did quite the opposite for me: I became depressed. Depressed because I wasted $7.00 on this crap and because I didn't see any goddam necrophilia!
I also failed to see any relationship between the title of the movie and the actual happenings in the movie. There was approximately 5 minutes of the movie spent in the Basement, and all I saw was bad acting (maybe the title was a caution to the viewer?).
So let me suggest something more constructive for you viewers with $7.00 burning a hole in your pocket: go pick up a bottle of cheap wine and rent the Bridges of Madison County. At least then you have a shot at getting laid.