Main cast: Marjoe Gortner (Oliver Farrell), Bobbie Bresee (Susan Walker Farrell), Norman Burton (Dr Simon Andrews), and La Wanda Page (Elsie)
Director: Michael Dugan

If you’ve ever wondered why haunted house movies keep recycling the same tired tropes — big spooky house, a wife who screams at shadows, and a husband who disappears for long stretches only to show up with the emotional acuity of a turnip — then Mausoleum is your cinematic Rosetta Stone. It checks off all the boxes, except for the “special child who talks to ghosts” and the “rebellious teenage kid”, which is either a relief or a tragedy, depending on how much you enjoy gratuitous wailing from young actors.

Mausoleum isn’t just another forgettable horror flick; it has pedigree. This masterpiece was actually seized and confiscated in the UK under Section 3 of the Obscene Publications Act 1959 during the video nasty panic. Ah yes, the era when a demon-wielding female monster with faces where her breasts should be could terrify the nation. Today, those “scandalous” sex scenes barely register as eyebrow-raising, and the female monster looks more like a cosplay fail than a horror icon. Hilarious, not horrifying.

The plot is mercifully simple: Susan Walker wandered into a mausoleum as a child and was possessed by a demon. Conveniently, no one — not even Susan herself — knows this. Perfect setup for every predatory man in the film to attempt harassment, only to be dispatched in increasingly ridiculous fashion once the demon takes the wheel. It’s less horror and more watch men get what’s coming to them in the most cartoonishly elaborate ways.

Then there’s Susan’s husband, Oliver Ferrell, a man whose work schedule apparently requires him to be absent for long stretches of time. When he is around, he embodies obliviousness at Olympic levels. Witness Oliver spotting a telephone covered in blood: his reaction is to call Susan’s name and ask if she hurt herself. Buddy, when a phone is that bloodied, she’s probably past the stage of polite conversation.

Amid all this madness, LaWanda Taylor, fabulous as always, walks in like a hurricane of common sense and promptly steals the movie. Her genius move? Nope the hell out of there the moment she sees anything remotely weird. Watching her vanish with dignity while everyone else flails around in horror and bad decisions is the closest thing Mausoleum has to sanity —and, honestly, the highlight of the film.

Despite the hokey plot and questionable logic, Mausoleum manages to be entertaining. Its charm lies in its absurdity — the bad decisions, the fake-looking gore effects, and the anticlimactic exorcism that ends with a twist that makes zero sense. Every frame feels like a masterclass in how to do everything wrong in the most amusing way possible.

So, if you appreciate bad acting, worse storylines, and horror that’s more camp than creep, Mausoleum is worth a watch. Just don’t expect to soil your sheets from fright or blush from titillation; today, it’s quaintly tame, and its biggest terror is probably your inability to keep a straight face.