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House of Horrors

1946 film by Jean Yarbrough

House of Horrors is a 1946 film about an unsuccessful sculptor who saves a madman named "The Creeper" from drowning. Seeing an opportunity for revenge, he tricks the psycho into murdering his critics.

Directed by Jean Yarbrough. Written by George Bricker.
Meet...The CREEPER! 

Marcel De Lange

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  • [Seeing the Creeper for the first time] Magnifique! The perfect Neanderthal Man!

Other

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  • F. Holmes Harmon: [Hearing someone come in but not turning around] If you're the janitor, come back later. If you're anyone else, there's a window at the end of the hall, jump out of it.
  • Jerry, the morgue attendant: If the Creeper's still alive, I'm gonna put in some overtime.

Dialogue

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Marcel De Lange: I see here in the evening paper that a woman was murdered in the neighborhood last night.
The Creeper: [Flatly] Yeah.
Marcel De Lange: Yes, her spine was snapped. I've often wondered why a man would want to snap a woman's spine.
The Creeper: [Flatly] She screamed.
Marcel De Lange: An annoying habit on the part of women... screaming.
The Creeper: [Looking at the spartan meal given to him by De Lange] No meat?
Marcel De Lange: No money.
Joan Medford: You know, sometimes I feel sorry for you. You must be very unhappy.
F. Holmes Harmon: You're wasting your pity. I'm really a very happy fellow. Especially when I'm deflating the egos of artistic pretenders.
Joan Medford: Steve Morrow is not a pretender. He's honest. And he has talent. And on top of that, he's successful.
F. Holmes Harmon: Judged by the dollar sign, yes. Unfortunately, the general public's appreciation of art is limited to billboards and magazine covers. The morons wallow in a sea of girls, girls, unbelievably beautiful and well-proportioned girls.
Joan Medford: Are you saying that Steve should paint ugliness instead of beauty?
F. Holmes Harmon: I don't say that anyone should do anything. I merely say, as a critic, what he actually does.
Joan Medford: Then why don't you temper your criticism with the truth? Oh sure, you have a right to say you don't like apple pie. But it's certainly unfair to say that apple pie isn't good.
F. Holmes Harmon: You're a clever wench, Joan. But we're not talking about apple pie. We're talking about cheesecake. Here, for example, is a little bit of your Mr. Morrow's "art".
[shows Joan a magazine cover with a bathing suit-clad model]
Joan Medford: Is that bad?
F. Holmes Harmon: It's revolting! Did you ever see a girl that perfect?
Joan Medford: You don't get around much, do you? That's why I feel sorry for you, Holmes. You crawl into your bottle of acid and stay there, dripping vitriol indiscriminately, always destroying.
Hal Ormiston: [Reading his own review] I devoted my stick of type today to a frank appraisal of the very doubtful talents of a young brush wielder named Steven Morrow.
Police Lt. Larry Brooks: [Scene change. Review continues being read] You will note that I do not dignify young Morrow with the term artist. He definitely is not an artist in any sense of the word.
Steven Morrow: [Scene change. Review continues being read] The empty face girls Morrow paints have no more artistic significance than the crazily conceived creations of that well known madman of scattering profession, Marcel De Lange. [pause. Slams newspaper to the table] Another one. Harmon dies, and another persecute rises to hound me. Am I always to be beaten down by heartless ignorant critics who find strange delight in singling me out as a subject for their cruelty? Why am I not big and strong so I can throttle this man Ormiston? I can see him now, a drink at his elbow, chuckling over his cleverly turned phrases. He has money for food and drink while we must starve. It's unfair, I tell you.
The Creeper: Where does he live?
Steven Morrow: [Raises head to look into Creeper's face. Pauses] At the Bagley Terrace, on East 54th Street.

Cast

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