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Like the similar ‘Last House on the Left’, you’re either going to like this film, or disfavor it with a passion - there’s no down the middle. Director Ruggero Deodato takes rape, suffering and violence to near-unbearable extremes, almost trying to out-do the terrors we witnessed in ‘Cannibal Holocaust’.

This is only going to appeal to a obvious crowd, and that crowd involves any serious panic fans, as well as fans of cult exploitation. Often, ‘House on the Edge of the Park’ is grim, unsettling and horridly disturbing. All in all, it actually does it’s job as a dread film - it shocks, chills and disturbs in equal measure, with enough blood-letting to maintain many gore fans cheerful.

The anecdote follows the psychotic rapist Alex (an outstanding performance by David Hess, no matter how the film pans out), who takes his mentally-challenged friend Ricky (John Morghen) to a posh party. After being mistreated by the upper-class yuppies, Alex eventually reaches boiling point, and the party results in a tense and horrible hostage spot, in which anyone can tumble.

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‘House on the Edge of the Park’ is an inviting and sometimes intelligent work, which has the disadvantage of not being everyones cup of tea. The violence is improper, and downhearted to see. In most respects, this isn’t a mainstream film, since it’s sleazy feel often makes it hard to sit through.

At the ruin of the day, this film does have it’s flaws, but it doesn’t conclude it from being a classic of the genre. It’s essentially a rip-off of ‘Last House on the Left’, but if you liked Craven’s film, you’ll know doubt like this too.

At least give it a try, since there are worse films out there…

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Regards,

D.J. Nock

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“The House at the Edge of the Park” comes to us from the curved mind of Ruggero Deodato. If you’re not familiar with his work (and if you’re not, what are you doing reading this review? ), he’s the man responsible for some of the most horrific exploitation films in the history of dismay cinema. Deodato lensed the downright nauseating “Cannibal Holocaust,” a movie so unsightly in its depictions of human and animal death that only the most jaded viewers need sit down with it for a peek. “Holocaust” tried to cash in on the whole Italian “cannibals race amok” genre of the 1970s and early 1980s, and ended up defining it. Another jewel in Deodato’s crown of stomach churning madness is 1985’s “The House on the Edge of the Park.” Fortunately, no cannibals go on a rampage in this portray, at least not of the type that live in the jungle in a remote corner of the globe. Instead, Deodato gives us a nihilistic revenge film that would acquire even Charles Bronson or Clint Eastwood blanche in scare. Yep, forget about the Death Wish films and Dirty Harry; what we’ve got here goes far beyond the borders established by those “tepid” thrillers.

Deodato’s film establishes its credentials upright from the initiate, as we discover Alex (David Hess) speed a young woman off the road and then depart to have his device with her. For proper measure, he then bumps her off. Obviously, “The House on the Edge of the Park” is not going to be a nice film. Flash forward some time to a couple of rich types, Lisa (Annie Belle) and Tom (Christian Borromeo), driving through Fresh York City on their contrivance to a party. Car concern leads Tom to a local garage where–surprise–Alex works with his simpleminded pal Ricky (John Morghen) . The two men consume the garage as a front for a stolen car racket, as well as providing a protective infamous of operations for Alex’s other extracurricular activities. When Tom and Lisa roll in looking for assistance, our two boys are unbiased about to head out for a night of partying. Improbably, Tom invites the two men to accompany him and Lisa to the aforementioned gathering. Off the four go to the suburbs, to a house chubby of wealthy and sleek people. We meet Gloria (Lorraine De Selle), the host of the evening’s activities, and several of her snobby friends. These are awful people, the sort of people who build themselves feel better by lording their looks and wealth over everyone else. Definite enough, they soon location to work on Alex and Ricky.

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Making Ricky dance for kicks isn’t too awful, but when a card game with high stakes cleans out his intellectually challenged pal, Alex has had enough. Out comes a folding razor, and the awe begins. Hess’s character delivers beatings to anyone who challenges him, and his lascivious gaze for the ladies virtually ensures clear other entertainments will soon follow. Oddly enough, Lisa seems to abet this negative attention. She takes substantial pleasure in teasing Alex, in some cases in no hazardous terms, and even enjoys the humiliation Tom suffers as he must sit idly by and view this ruffian paw his woman. In the few cases where one of the guys tries to produce a stand, Alex viciously beats them down. Whether it’s knocking someone’s head against a pool table or having fun in the swimming pool, Hess’s character manages to preserve everything on a somewhat even keel. Until a visitor shows up, that is, a very cute visitor who draws out the worst in Alex’s disposition. From this point forward, the station hastily falls apart. Deodato, who has managed to maintain his cards firmly held to his vest up to this point, finally reveals the movie’s purpose in a conclusion that, regardless of your idea of the shenanigans seen in the preceding hour and half, will stop with you long after the credits roll.

“The House on the Edge of the Park” works wonders as an exploitation film. In fact, I’d go so far as to call it an archetype of the exploitation field. It’s not the gore that does the trick, surprisingly. Although a bit of the red stuff flows from time to time, don’t ask the sort of heavy carnage Deodato trotted out for us in “Cannibal Holocaust.” No, what we ogle here is a more insidious develop of exploitation, one of social class and expected perceptions. The conclusion to the film works so well because most of us–I would say all of us–go into the film “colorful” who is fine and who is unpleasant. When Deodato throws a wrench into the whole film, he’s exploiting our preconceived notions about how humanity structures itself and works in a civilized society. It’s a kindly job all around, but that’s not the only thing going for the film. David Hess, the four hundred pound gorilla of cinematic heavies, hits warp drive here. He’s sleazy, depraved, and violent as all derive out. In other words, he’s exactly what we’ve arrive to demand of him after watching him trot up the scenery in Craven’s “The Last House on the Left.”

“The House on the Edge of the Park” is a monument to Deodato’s ability to film truly cringe inducing stories. Stutter Point To, a designate of Media Blasters save in charge of releasing the disc, does an favorable job with the extras. Request the usual mess of trailers–”Eaten Alive,” “Zombie 3,” Zombie 4,” and “Seven Blood-Stained Orchids”–as well a trailer for Deodato’s film, liner notes, and a calm gallery. Three interviews, with Hess, Morghen, and Deodato, are fascinating–especially the one with Hess, which runs on for something like forty minutes. So if you like exploitation, you could do far worse than “The House on the Edge of the Park.” You can’t do remarkable better, though.

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