Directed by
David Schmoeller
88 minutes
Rated R
Reviewed by
Andrew Lee
Crawlspace
Synopsis Dr. Karl Gunther (Klaus Kinski) owns a seemingly peaceful boarding house for career women. The young ladies feel safe and comfortable; despite the fact their landlord is the demented son of a Nazi surgeon who has the house equipped with secret passageways, hidden rooms and torture and murder devices.Here’s the tip: never move into an apartment block with Klaus Kinski as a landlord. You’d think one look at his bonkers blonde hair-do, mad eyes and ever-twitching mannerisms would give his residents a hint, but no, the nubile tenants don’t sniff a rat. They obviously have never watched a Werner Herzog film.
The crackpot Polish actor always had a tendency to over-act and his collaborations with Herzog, both in front of the camera and behind-the-scenes, are the stuff of cinematic legend, but Kinski’s crazed turn in Crawlspace is far more creepy and bizarre. Yet if it’s the main reason to watch the film it’s also the thing that threatens to derail this Italian-shot scare-fest at every turn.
This lacklustre chiller wastes its star and squanders the claustrophobic setting. Director David Schmoeller, who previously directed the Chuck Connors starrer, Tourist Trap, manages to drain the blood out of any potential horror generated from the twisted scenario. The idea that a Nazi torturer is sneaking around and spying on his prey is ripe for cranking up the tension. The results, however, are dated and let down by risible performances, especially the female lead played by Talia Balsam, daughter of Martin Balsam. The cardboard characterisations of the script reek of TV movie theatrics.
There is fun to be had with Gunther’s bag of torturing tricks; the gadgets he rigs up around the apartment block to capture his prey but, despite the occasionally gory shenanigans, Crawlspace never makes the skin crawl but rather, only dulls the senses.
The atmosphere is enhanced by a creepy score by Italian maestro Pino Dinaggio, the man behind the music for De Palma’s Carrie (1976) and Dressed to Kill (1986). The lush orchestral swell lends Crawlspace a sense of class missing from most of the icky proceedings.
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