The Haunting of Morella (1990)

This movie claims to be “Edgar Allan Poe’s The Haunting of Morella.” That is, in one word, horseshit; Poe never wrote anything with that title any more than he wrote the epigraph that opens the film: “And the ghostly winds whispered but one sound upon my tortured ears—Morella…evermore.” 

The actual quote, “The winds of the firmament breathed but one sound within my ears, and the ripples upon the sea murmured evermore—Morella,” is from a Poe short story called simply “Morella,” with which this trashy softcore screenplay (credited to R.J. Robertson but apparently co-written by director Jim Wynorski and Richard Matheson, the latter a frequent collaborator of producer Roger Corman) has little in common other than the character’s name. 

More than un-Poe-like, The Haunting of Morella (hereinafter THoM) is antipodal to Poe (antiPoedal?). “Morella” is an erudite text whose characters read and discuss, among others, John Locke; in the movie, Locke is the character’s last name, which by itself means nothing except that the filmmakers read the original story — whether they understood it, though, is debatable. 

More importantly, where EAP was all about mood and depth, this film is all appearance and surface. Now, I called THoM trashy, but it’s great-looking trash — and I’m not just talking about the generous wet, hot T&A.  

The above notwithstanding, the proof is in the pudding (in the Poedding?). While Edgar Allan may have heard about the legend of the infamous Countess Báthory, he drew no inspiration from it (it would have been too gory for his taste, anyway); moreover, he obviously couldn’t have written a hybrid rip-off of Hellraiser and King Diamond’s rock opera Abigail (both released in 1987). THoM takes its cues from those three sources. 

Not only is Poe’s “Morella” more original, it’s also better written — and it’s not a matter of taste, but of technique. Subjectively, your mileage may vary (as this movie makes it clear, Poe is not for everybody); what is beyond dispute, however, is that the text is structurally sound. THoM’s script, on the other hand, is half-baked at best, and pretty fucking stupid at worst.  

Morella (Nicole Eggert) is an aspiring witch who kills buxom virgin wenches to bathe in their blood. She’s captured and executed but not before declaring, “I shall live on within [her infant daughter Lenora]. One day she and I will live as one” 

Lenora’s father Gideon (David McCallum) hires governess Miss Deveraux (Lana Clarkson) to raise Lenora, unaware that Miss Deveraux used to be Morella’s “unknown disciple” (and, presumably, lover; she’s also carrying on an affair with housemaid Diane (Maria Ford)). 

Seventeen years later, Miss Deveraux brings Lenora to Morella’s tomb, where Morella briefly possesses her teenaged daughter. Why briefly? “I fear that we have underestimated her. Lenora is strong. I shall not be able to hold on to her much longer.” Hence, Morella can only take over Lenora’s body “in minute periods” — i.e., whenever the screenplay finds it convenient. 

Since neither can Morella deliver on her promise nor the movie on its premise, Morella instructs Miss Deveraux to “resurrect” Morella’s “remains,” which Miss Deveraux does by luring unsuspecting victims to the tomb, slaying them, and pouring their blood on Morella’s corpse. 

Uh, if that was all it took, why wait seventeen years to “resurrect” Morella? Furthermore, why didn’t Miss Deveraux bring Lenora to Morella sooner, when Lenora was still a small child and less liable to put up a fight?  

Glaring plotholes like those you won’t find anywhere in Poe, who wouldn’t have been caught dead writing such dialogue as “Sometimes I imagine what it would feel like having your hands touching my body … I want to feel what it’s like having you inside me.” 

To be fair, that line leads to a sex scene that looks like the filmmakers went inside my head, rifled through my fantasy file, and found a deep cut. They may not have known Edgar Allan Poe from a hole in the wall, but they sure knew their audience and how to relate to it. 

Clearly, I don’t mind a little filth; what I object to is dragging Poe’s good name through the mud while you’re at it. Corman’s contribution to filmmaking is undeniable, but I’d be hard-pressed to think of someone who has done more to tarnish the legacy of the beloved Bostonian author (not that others haven’t tried). 

The connection to Poe is not just mostly nonexistent, but completely unnecessary. Here’s a short, economical gothic spectacle beautifully shot in bright, lush exterior locations and musty, dusty, candlelit sets, and featuring solid special effects and plenty of female frontal nudity — a veritable triumph of style over substance. The plot, meanwhile, is downright moronic, and purporting that EAP had anything at all to do with it doesn’t make it any less dumb. 

All things considered, THoM is by no means intellectually challenging, but it is aesthetically pleasing and it’s over in a jiffy. In other words, it has enough going for it that those who would watch it, and even those who wouldn’t, might be more inclined to do so without the Poe association, which could conceivably turn away lowbrow horror aficionados and highbrow literature buffs alike.