Chapman's psychological thriller is an interesting failure, which so indulges the psycho viewpoint that it finally prevents his plot from working. Heroine Carol (Leigh) has a history of mental illness, and when she inherits a neglected downtown club, her raucous mum (marvellous Vaccaro) doubts the wisdom of letting her move in and renovate. Swiftly, so do we. Three degenerate builders turn into rapists one night, objects whizz about by telekinesis, taps drip blood, and upstairs is a maze of SM parlours, orgy dorms, and spyholes, besides which Carol has flashbacks, hallucinations, and an ankle in plaster. There is an explanation, but having gone through hell with camera angles and panting corridors, you may not buy it. The Powell of Peeping Tom, Polanski, and Lynch are in the mix, and there are disquieting and powerful sequences.