Ah, Fright — the little British thriller that wants to be the godfather of every babysitter-in-peril slasher you’ve ever seen, but ends up looking more like the god-uncle who drinks too much sherry and ruins Christmas.
On paper, this should’ve been a genre milestone. Susan George babysitting in a spooky country estate, a kid asleep upstairs, and a deranged ex-husband lurking in the shadows — boom, you’ve got the proto-Halloween. Instead, director Peter Collinson delivers something that’s equal parts tense psychological thriller and soap opera about custody disputes. One minute you’re biting your nails, the next you’re thinking, “Wait, is this just Kramer vs. Kramer with a body count?”
Susan George does her best wide-eyed panic impression, and to be fair, she screams like her agent’s paycheck depends on it. Ian Bannen, as the psychotic ex-husband Brian, is both terrifying and unintentionally hilarious — a mix of sweaty menace and the awkward energy of a man who looks like he got lost on his way to audition for a BBC drama about the postal service. When he starts calling Amanda by his ex-wife’s name, it’s creepy, yes, but it also feels like the horror version of drunk-dialing your ex.
The film nails atmosphere — the locks on the door, the remote house in the woods, the sense that something awful is just around the corner. But then it shoots itself in the foot with pacing so slow you start to wonder if the editor took tea breaks between cuts. Half the runtime is Amanda wandering around the house reacting to every creak and draft like she’s in a Scooby-Doo episode. By the time Brian finally snaps, you’re half rooting for him to kill somebody just to liven things up.
And let’s talk about that climax: tear gas, glass shards, hostage stand-offs, and Susan George avenging her boyfriend by shooting Brian in the head. It’s satisfying, sure, but also messy in that clumsy, early-’70s way — like the film wasn’t sure if it wanted to be gritty realism or a Hammer horror knockoff, so it just shrugged and said, “Why not both?”
Final Verdict:
Fright is both ahead of its time and hopelessly stuck in it. It set the stage for every “babysitter stalked by a maniac” movie that followed, but watching it now feels like being at the awkward dress rehearsal before the real show starts. It’s tense, it’s creaky, it’s occasionally absurd — the cinematic equivalent of a bad dream you had after eating too much cheese. Worth watching as horror history, but don’t expect to scream. At best, you’ll smirk nervously and think, “Well… at least it wasn’t Blood Shack.”
