{"id":3255,"date":"2020-10-17T10:05:21","date_gmt":"2020-10-17T10:05:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/?p=3255"},"modified":"2023-01-30T18:11:25","modified_gmt":"2023-01-30T18:11:25","slug":"the-house-in-nightmare-park","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/film\/the-house-in-nightmare-park\/","title":{"rendered":"Laughing & Screaming: Comedy-horror and The House in Nightmare Park (1973)"},"content":{"rendered":"\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Film<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t

Laughing & Screaming:<\/h4>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t

Comedy-horror in<\/h2>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t

The House in Nightmare Park<\/h1>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Should comedy and horror ever occupy the same space? David Evans-Powell believes so and presents his case with a look at 1973’s The House in Nightmare Park…<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Comedy and horror appear unlikely bedfellows. Noel Carroll remarked that ‘horror and humour seem like opposite mental states. Being horrified seems as though it should preclude amusement. And what causes us to laugh does not appear as though it should also be capable of making us scream.’\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>

And yet, there is a long history of comedy-horror on film, stretching back to The Old Dark House<\/b><\/i> (1932, James Whale) and Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein<\/b><\/i> (1948, Charles Barton), and one that is still going strong with Zombieland<\/b><\/i> (2009, Ruben Fleischer), Happy Death Day<\/b><\/i> (2017, Christopher Landon), The Babysitter<\/b><\/i> (2017, McG), and their respective sequels among many others.<\/p>

The relationship between comedy and horror is something I\u2019ve been considering recently, following a Twitter exchange a couple of months ago. I had re-watched the excellent Hammer House of Horror<\/b><\/a><\/em> episode ‘The House That Bled to Death<\/i>‘ (1980, Tom Clegg) and I tweeted an image from the infamous sequence where the blood pours from the ceiling pipe straight onto a children\u2019s birthday party. I love this episode and this sequence in particular \u2013 and I find the sheer camp excess of it funny.\u00a0<\/p>

Not to say that I am laughing at the material, but more that I am laughing with it. And I feel that my reaction is one the makers intended; it is a deliberately Grand-Guignol moment designed to punctuate the tension building over the previous scenes, and provide the audience with the perverse thrill of watching such a wholesome activity as a children\u2019s party be so thoroughly and comprehensively despoiled. However, someone responded to challenge my tweet, feeling that comedy and horror should provoke separate emotional reactions and that never the twain should meet.
<\/span><\/p>

Undeniably laughing and screaming are different reactions but, equally undeniably, they are closely related. Robert Bloch, the writer of <\/span>Psycho<\/b> <\/em>(1960, Alfred Hitchcock)<\/span>, stated that ‘comedy and horror are opposite sides of the same coin \u2026 Both deal in the grotesque and the unexpected,’\u00a0while Alfred Hitchcock talked about how to ‘alternate between the two, build up the tension and then release it with a laugh.’<\/span><\/p>

How far a comedy film requires horrific tone or content, or a horror film needs moments of comic relief, to be a comedy-horror is a matter for debate. Some films clearly privilege one over the other. While spoofing the conventions of the horror film, the Scary Movie<\/em> <\/b>franchise (2000\u20132013) is intending to make its audience laugh first (or, at least, attempt to) while attempts to genuinely frighten or unnerve viewers are far down the list of priorities. Jeffrey S Miller is clear that ‘horror-comedies are more than horror films with a few scenes of comic relief; they are works where each genre is fully represented.’ This suggests to me that there is a difference between films that use horror conventions, styles and motifs for comic effect \u2013 the vast majority of horror parodies and spoofs fall into this category \u2013 and those films that, arguably, far more subtly attempt to weave comedy and horror together to create films that aspire to amuse and unnerve their audiences in equal measure.<\/p>

This relationship between horror and comedy is something I want to explore further by looking at one of my favourite British comedy-horror films, and one that I feel finds a harmonious balance between comedy and horror: Peter Sykes\u2019 1973 film, and Frankie Howerd vehicle, The House in Nightmare Park<\/b><\/em>. It is not a film that has received a significant degree of attention, something I feel is a tremendous shame given how effective it is at being both funny and genuinely unnerving, without one compromising the other.\u00a0<\/p>

Set in England, at some ill-defined period in either the late-19th or early-20th Centuries, Howerd plays the fabulously named Foster Twelvetrees, a self-aggrandising recitalist who is booked to perform for the eccentric Henderson family at their country house isolated within a large, wild-looking estate (the titular \u2018nightmare park\u2019). Initially bemused by the family\u2019s bizarre antics, Twelvetrees grows more concerned as they begin dropping like flies and it becomes apparent that one of them is a crazed killer. It also transpires that his booking was not at all by chance but is instead part of a nefarious scheme by the family to find a trove of priceless diamonds hidden on their estate.<\/p>

\"the<\/p>

In Britain \u2013 as elsewhere \u2013 scares and laughs were closely intertwined in the sixties and seventies. That behemoth of British horror cinema, Hammer Studios, was also a successful producer of comedy films, many of which were developed from popular television series including On The Buses<\/b><\/em> (ITV, 1971, 1972, 1973), Nearest and Dearest<\/b><\/em> (ITV, 1972), and Man About the House<\/b><\/em> (ITV, 1974). Meanwhile, Amicus Productions\u2019 portmanteau horror films often featured actors who had made their name as comics or in comic roles, including Terry-Thomas, Roy Castle and Jon Pertwee. Younger stars, like Robin Askwith, would cross between comedy and horror films as the sexual content in both genres steadily grew across the decade. As a vehicle for long-time comedian Frankie Howerd, a comedy-horror like The House in Nightmare Park<\/em><\/b> makes perfect sense.<\/p>

Jonathan Rigby describes the film as ‘one of the UK\u2019s last really plushly upholstered horror pictures.’ It certainly represents one of the last gasps of one form of horror-comedy and its replacement by an entirely new form, which is represented by another, almost contemporaneous, British horror film: Antony Balch\u2019s Horror Hospital<\/b><\/em> (1972). Horror Hospital<\/b><\/em> is far more of its time: a peculiarly off-beat, sweaty and sleazy mix of youthful permissiveness, gory horror and surreal, black humour. The casting of its two stars \u2013 Robin Askwith and Michael Gough \u2013 sees the film hedging its bets with one foot firmly in the sexed-up and seedy seventies horror film and the other lingering still in the more stately, cobwebbed melodrama of the preceding decades. Given this new trajectory for British horror, The House in Nightmare Park<\/i><\/b> seems as fusty as the Henderson\u2019s country house.<\/p>

Instead, The House in Nightmare Park<\/b><\/em> is part of an older tradition of \u2018old dark house\u2019 film. While films of this type have been played straight, it is notable how often it is used in comedy-horror, from the 1926 lost film The Bat<\/b><\/em> (Roland West) to 2019\u2019s Ready or Not<\/b> <\/em>(Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett). Named in honour of one of the first, and most acclaimed, of this type of film, \u2018old dark house\u2019 stories are set in the remote, crumbling estates of the upper classes. Family members and faithful retainers are summoned, usually for a reunion, a funeral or the reading of a Will. Normally isolated by bad weather or inhospitable landscape, and riven by enmity and spite, the characters are soon beset by insanity and murder as they are bumped off one by one. The House in Nightmare Park<\/b><\/i> is, along with the not-quite-Carry On film What a Carve Up!<\/em> <\/b>(1961) and the sumptuous-looking Radley Metzger adaptation of The Cat and The Canary<\/b><\/em> (1978), a good example of the British \u2018old dark house\u2019 comedy-horror.<\/p>

We might ask ourselves why this type of film lends itself so well to comedy-horror. Murder and madness are usually the stuff of melodramatic thrillers like Rebecca<\/b><\/em> (Alfred Hitchcock, 1940), Gaslight<\/b><\/em> (George Cukor, 1944) and The Spiral Staircase<\/b><\/em> (Robert, Siodmack, 1946), and psychological horror films that Hammer developed a side-line in such as Nightmare<\/b><\/em> (Freddie Francis<\/a>, 1964), The Nanny<\/em> (Seth Holt, 1965) and Demons of the Mind<\/b><\/em> (Peter Sykes, 1972). None of these has any intention to make us laugh.\u00a0<\/p>

To answer this question, we should return to Robert Bloch\u2019s suggestion that horror and comedy ‘both deal in the grotesque and unexpected.’ The grotesque relates to that which is monstrous through distortion and that evokes confusing emotions of both pity and either revulsion or discomfort (more classically monstrous examples include The Phantom of the Opera<\/em> and Frankenstein\u2019s Monster<\/i>).\u00a0<\/p>

The grotesqueness of the families in \u2018old dark house\u2019 comedy-horror films presents us with people who are recognisable enough to be sympathetic to the viewer but distorted enough to unnerve; a skewed mirror-image of a family. The trappings of the large, isolated country pile, too, present us with that notion of the uncanny; familiar enough as a family home but unfamiliar in its size, sumptuary and isolation. The exaggerated qualities of these characters and their world give us licence to feel safe amongst their madness and depravities and to find humour in them.\u00a0<\/p>

The Hendersons of Nightmare Park are certainly a gallery of grotesques. At first glance, they appear fairly harmless, albeit somewhat eccentric, and rather more middle than upper class. While they do bicker and snipe at each other, there doesn\u2019t initially seem to be much threatening about them. Ray Milland as elder brother Stuart is, for much of the film, the viewer\u2019s identification point. His attempts to maintain at least a veneer of geniality in the face of the unintentionally uncouth behaviour of the bluff, conceited Twelvetrees (when offered refreshments upon arrival, Foster says \u2018as a matter of fact, I had a packet of crisps on the train. Perhaps a little something to rinse the bits out of my teeth\u2019), and yet his inability to entirely hide how aghast he is, is both highly relatable and very funny. To a lesser extent his brothers, cantankerous major Reggie and highly-strung vet Ernest \u2013 played by Hugh Burden and Kenneth Griffith respectively \u2013 are also brought to life through their misgivings about Howerd\u2019s recitalist.\u00a0<\/p>

\"the<\/p>

Meanwhile, their glacial sister Jessica, played by Rosalie Crutchley, cannot bring herself to speak to him at all, and Ernest\u2019s imperious wife Agnes \u2013 played by Ruth Dunning \u2013 treats him as the staff (\u2018The feathered cow\u2019 hisses Twelvetrees as she asks him to take her bags up to her room). That the family are as alienated by Twelvetrees\u2019 vulgarity as he is by their eccentricity arguably helps to naturalise the characters and performances in contrast to other \u2018old dark house\u2019 films, where the \u2018outsider\u2019 (such as Kenneth Connor and Sid James in What a Carve Up!<\/b> <\/em>(Pat Jackson, 1961)) is incontrovertibly the viewer\u2019s surrogate and the family is near uniformly unrelatable. This far more nuanced characterisation in The House in Nightmare Park<\/b><\/em> allows for the viewer to invest in both the family and in Twelvetrees and allows us to enjoy the comedy of manners that plays out between them.<\/p>

Critical to the balance of comedy and horror in the film is that none of the cast gives what you could describe as a comic turn, choosing instead to play the characters in as rounded a way as possible. Even Howerd plays the role of the vain Twelvetrees with a sensitivity that perhaps he has never really been given credit for. His trademark wheezing and facial expressions are present and correct but only when they compliment the material; for the most part, he treads a subtle tightrope between both underplaying the role while still playing up to the material.\u00a0<\/p>

However, when there are moments of comedy, Howerd seizes them with both hands. There are many stand-out scenes of pure hilarity, including a gleefully grumpy attempt by Foster to secure himself a breakfast (\u2018Game set, an egg to me I believe!\u2019<\/em>), a rudely interrupted recital of Little Nell (\u2018I was just giving \u2018er me Little Nell\u2019 \u2018You filthy swine!\u2019), and an attempt by Ernest and his wife to fatally relieve Foster of the toothache (\u2018my old dentist said he’s never seen such roots. He says he’d like to have my head in a bottle\u2019). These sequences though do not interrupt the generally unnerving atmosphere, nor jar with the sense of unease that builds throughout the film as the body count starts to rise.<\/p>

A useful comparison can be made with a near contemporary of The House in Nightmare Park<\/b><\/em>, and one of the most popular British comedy-horror films: Carry On Screaming<\/b><\/em> (1966, Garelad Thomas). Crucially though, while Carry On Screaming<\/b><\/em> has often described as a comedy-horror, it isn\u2019t really. Instead, it is a film that finds comedy in a parody of the motifs and conventions of Hammer\u2019s gothic horror oeuvre. There is nothing within the film intended to actually frighten or unnerve; instead, the direction and the performances are entirely geared to humour. This is understandable \u2013 it is a Carry On<\/em> film after all \u2013 but it is useful to illustrate how The House in Nightmare Park<\/b><\/em>, while being funny, also manages to be unnerving in equal measure; how it manages both comedy and horror with sincerity.<\/p>

As discussed, the performances are a key factor. Unlike in Carry On Screaming<\/b><\/em>, there are no broad comic turns or overly arch performances. Instead, the cast underplays their exaggerated characters to allow for audience empathy. Another key factor is Peter Sykes\u2019 direction.\u00a0<\/p>

Sykes doesn\u2019t direct the film as a comedy at all really; instead, the camera work is far more in keeping with that of a Hitchcockian thriller or psychological horror film. Occasions that could have been the focus for surrealist humour, such as Twelvetrees discovery of a lady\u2019s grey wig on the floor or his peeking into the room that houses the sickly and quarantined Victor Henderson only to jump when Stuart accosts him, instead become moments of tension, mystery or jump-shock. When Twelvetrees finds himself in a turret bedroom with the Henderson\u2019s elderly and sequestered mother, Sykes artfully has her invisible within the darkness of the corner of the room before emerging, swathed in a funereal black gown and veil, from the depths of the shadows.\u00a0<\/p>

The following sequence is a skilful build in suspense until the apparently sweet old lady lunges psychopathically at Twelvetrees with a cleaver. The climax of the film \u2013 in which Twelvetrees is pursued through the corridors of the house by an axe-wielding maniac \u2013 is stylishly directed with skewed angles and spiralling camera motions that both effectively captures the poor recitalist\u2019s panic, as well as suggesting that the house itself is a hostile force. Members of the Henderson family are dispatched without any sense of humour or sentimentality, particularly a death by sickle that, while it happens off-camera, still manages to be grisly.\u00a0<\/p>

\"the<\/p>

Indeed, there are some sequences that are straight-up horrific. Jessica feeds live rabbits to the pythons and cobras kept in a snake pit in the basement of the house, flicking her tongue serpent-like in rapt and eager anticipation as Twelvetrees can only look on aghast. Perhaps the stand-out sequence though is a musical piece performed by the Henderson siblings that recall their youth as travelling family troupe: Henderson\u2019s Human Marionettes. Shot by Sykes in flickering half-light, the brothers are dressed as Pierrot dolls and dance stiffly with vacant expressions while Jessica \u2013 replete in stylised rouge and child\u2019s smock \u2013 sings The Dance of the Dolls<\/i> in a high girlish voice. It\u2019s a sickly, macabre set-piece that is as grotesque as they come.<\/p>

Sykes\u2019 direction is greatly complimented by Maurice Carter\u2019s sets, which conjure the feel of a home and family once grand but now faded and failing, and Harry Robinson\u2019s cimbalom-heavy music that lends an exotic and unsettling edge to the film. This exoticism is entirely in keeping with the story, given that the Hendersons are an Anglo-Indian family who worship Kali, the Hindu goddess of death and destruction. Curiously, it is one of a number of British horror films of the time to feature Anglo-Indian families, others being Hammer\u2019s The Reptile<\/b><\/em> (John Gilling, 1965), and Tyburn\u2019s The Ghoul<\/b><\/em> (Freddie Francis, 1975), which perhaps suggests much about the post-colonial anxieties bubbling away in the minds of British film-makers at the time.<\/p>

While your enjoyment of The House in Nightmare Park<\/b><\/em> may stand or fall depending upon how funny you find Frankie Howerd, if you haven\u2019t seen it before I hope you give this masterly British comedy-horror a watch.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

Sources<\/u>:<\/p>

[1] <\/b>Carroll, Noel, <\/span>Horror and Humor, The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism Vol 7 No 2, Aesthetics and Popular Culture<\/i> (Spring 1999), pp 145-160.<\/span><\/p>

[2] <\/b>Miller, Jeffrey S, The Horror Spoofs of Abbott and Costello: A Critical Assessment of the Comedy Team\u2019s Monster Films, <\/i>McFarland & Co, 2004.<\/span><\/p>

[3] <\/b>Rigby, Jonathan, English Gothic: Classic Horror Cinema 1897-2015, <\/i>Signum Books, 2015.<\/span><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\"Picture\n\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\tDavid Evans-Powell\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/h4>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t

David Evans-Powell is a PhD candidate and writer. He has published on the Doctor Who story The Awakening as part of the Black Archive range for Obverse Books, and has a monograph on the 1971 British horror film The Blood on Satan\u2019s Claw published by Auteur Publishing (Liverpool University Press group) as part of their Devil\u2019s Advocate range. Follow David on Twitter by clicking his name (above)<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t

More film ><\/a><\/h2>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t
\"The<\/a><\/div>
\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\tThe Thames: Uncertain Depths in Horror Cinema\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t16\/02\/2021\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\tLauren Jane Barnett explores how the Thames of horror films is given agency, acting on the narrative aiding both good and evil in films from Hitchcock\u2019s 1927 silent, The Lodger, onwards...\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/article><\/div>
\"amicus<\/a><\/div>
\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\tAmicus Productions rises from the grave\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t15\/08\/2023\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\tAfter decades in the shadows, the legendary Amicus Productions is set for a grand revival thanks to the team at Hex Studios. Their upcoming film, 'In the Grip of Terror', seeks to honour the classic studio's legacy while forging a…\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/article><\/div>
\"The<\/a><\/div>
\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\tDoes a horror film have to be scary? Revisiting The Awakening (2011)\t\t\t\t<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/h2>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t29\/05\/2021\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\tNick Bartlett returns to The Awakening, finding a subtle and affecting ghost story beyond the genre tropes...\u200b\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/article><\/div><\/div><\/div>\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/span>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Should comedy and horror ever occupy the same space? David Evans-Powell believes so and presents his case with a look at 1973’s The House in Nightmare Park…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":124652,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"no-sidebar","site-content-layout":"page-builder","ast-site-content-layout":"","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"disabled","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[12],"tags":[456,455,454],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/10\/Screenshot-2023-01-30-at-17.27.43.png?fit=609%2C516&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3255"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3255"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3255\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":124667,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3255\/revisions\/124667"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/124652"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3255"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3255"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.horrifiedmagazine.co.uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3255"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}