Main cast: Katharine Ross (Margaret Walsh), Sam Elliott (Pete Danner), Roger Daltrey (Clive Jackson), John Standing (Jason Mountolive), Ian Hogg (Harry), Margaret Tyzack (Nurse Adams), Charles Gray (Karl Liebnecht), Lee Montague (Jacques Grandier), Hildegard Neil (Barbara Kirstenburg), and Marianne Broome (Maria Gabrieli)
Director: Richard Marquand
I’ll tell everyone why they should watch The Legacy. Sam “I’m Sure They Coined the Term ‘Mustache Ride’ After Him” Elliott’s body double, naked, walks to the shower as the camera lingers lovingly on his rear view nudity. The view, people, is tastier than a buffet of Big Macs. Then, the camera shows Mr Elliott soaping and massaging his wet hairy chest, armpits, and… oh, where was I? Oh yes, why people may want to watch this movie. Honestly though, just look up that scene—this is the present year, someone would have uploaded that scene somewhere. I checked on YouTube before I write this, and yes, it’s there.
Whose rear is it anyway? Shame that the name of that man may be forgotten with the passage of time, because that rump needs to be immortalized in a hall of fame or something.
The rest of this movie is forgettable. Sure, it may be the starting point for Mr Elliott and Katharine Ross to begin one of the longest marriages in Hollywood, but the movie itself seems confused as to what it wants to be.
On paper, this is a supernatural drama. Margaret Walsh, an interior decorator, and her boyfriend Pete Danner, the manliest interior decorator that has ever lived, head over to the UK on the request of a mysterious client, Jason Mountolive. They are joined by other guests, that begin to die one by one. What is going on here? Well, there’s a dark secret typing these guests, include Margaret, with Jason, and since this is marketed as a horror film, that secret is spooky.
Or is it? The bulk of the middle of this movie is Pete and Margaret trying to escape their host’s isolated manor, to a soundtrack that is more at home at a 1980s wacky cop weekly TV show. For way too long, the movie wastes time on these characters arguing or talking about inconsequential matters, when it’s not lingering on Mr Elliott’s mustache, rangy torso, and… and… ahem. I think this movie has decided to aim for the heart of a certain demographic in society, and Mr Elliott is its main asset to attain its goals.
The characters are for the most part bland if their name is Margaret or three monotonous variations of one-dimensional annoying. Pete may be pretty outside, but he’s actually the most unlikable character here, which says a lot considering how some of the other dead guests walking are deliberately created to be as obnoxious as can be. He treats Margaret with a teeth-gritting brand of condescension and “You, woman!” patronizing disrespect, acts like a typical ugly American tourist for the most part, and has no qualms destroying every and all properties in his path just to get what he wants. This guy is a twatwaffle under any circumstances, and the only way he could be redeemed is if Mr Elliott (and his body double) had spent the entire movie completely naked.
Lacking in scares but brimming with “Oh god, how long more before I get my check?” dispassionate acting and boring filler scenes that go nowhere, The Legacy lives up to its name only in its shameless display of one of the most exquisite male rear ends in Hollywood history. Sure, that’s a lot going for it, but sadly, it’s also the only thing it has going for it.
