Haunts of the Very Rich (1972): The Devil’s Resort Where Wealth Meets Damnation

In the sweltering heat of a volcanic paradise, the elite discover that some vacations come with eternal reservations.

Deep in the annals of 1970s television, few made-for-TV movies captured the era’s fascination with disaster and moral reckoning quite like this overlooked gem. Aired as part of ABC’s groundbreaking Movie of the Week series, it blended high-society glamour with supernatural dread, leaving viewers questioning the cost of indulgence.

  • The film’s ingenious premise turns a luxury resort into a purgatorial trap, mirroring 70s anxieties about wealth and excess.
  • Paul Wendkos’s direction masterfully fuses psychological tension with disaster spectacle, showcasing a stellar ensemble cast.
  • Its cult status endures among VHS collectors, influencing later horror anthologies and luxury-gone-wrong tales.

The Siren’s Call of the Forbidden Island

The story unfolds with a tantalising invitation extended to a disparate group of affluent strangers: a charter plane whisks them away to a secluded volcanic resort promising ultimate escape. Led by the enigmatic host played by Joel Grey, the guests arrive amid lush tropical vistas, only to find their paradise unravelling. What begins as casual flirtations and revelations of personal sins escalates into nightmarish visions and structural collapses, hinting at a force that judges their earthly vices. Robert Reed’s everyman businessman grapples with infidelity, while Cloris Leachman’s sharp-tongued socialite confronts her manipulations. Lloyd Bochner’s suave playboy and others peel back layers of deception, their backstories intertwined in ways that suggest predestination.

This setup masterfully subverts the disaster movie formula popularised by films like Airport around the same time. Instead of mere survival against nature, the narrative weaves supernatural elements, drawing from biblical notions of hellfire tailored to modern hedonism. The island’s active volcano serves as both literal and metaphorical heart, spewing ash and lava that mirror the characters’ erupting guilt. Wendkos, drawing from his experience in suspense thrillers, paces the revelations with deliberate restraint, allowing the opulent sets—crafted on location in Mexico—to lull audiences before the terror strikes.

Key to the film’s allure is its ensemble dynamic, reminiscent of Agatha Christie’s isolated gatherings but infused with 70s liberation vibes. Characters confess sins ranging from corporate greed to emotional neglect, each admission triggering eerie phenomena: ghostly apparitions, phantom voices, and the resort’s slow crumble. Grey’s mesmerising performance as the devilish facilitator anchors the chaos, his cabaret-honed charisma twisting into something sinister. The script, penned by Stephen Kandel, layers psychological depth atop genre tropes, ensuring no one is merely cannon fodder.

Volcano of Vice: Designs That Scorched the Screen

Visually, the production punches above its TV budget through practical effects and cinematography. Volcanic eruptions utilise real lava flows and miniatures, creating a visceral sense of impending doom that rivals theatrical releases. The resort’s architecture—mid-century modern with open-air lounges—evokes Playboy Club aesthetics clashing against primal destruction. Sound design amplifies isolation: distant rumbles, cracking earth, and a haunting score by George Duning build unrelenting tension. These elements ground the supernatural in tangible peril, making the film’s 78-minute runtime feel epic.

Cultural context places it squarely in ABC’s Movie of the Week golden age, launched in 1971 to compete with theatrical blockbusters. Amid Watergate-era cynicism, stories punishing the powerful resonated deeply. Haunts tapped into post-Love Story romantic disillusionment and pre-Jaws nature-revenge trends, predating Fantastic Voyage-style body horrors with its soul-scouring premise. Collectors prize surviving prints for their faded Technicolor hues, a hallmark of early 70s videotape decay that adds to the eerie patina.

Production anecdotes reveal ingenuity: filmed in Acapulco amid real volcanic activity, the cast endured sweltering shoots, with Leachman quipping about her wardrobe wilting faster than the sets. Wendkos navigated network censors wary of overt occultism, toning down explicit damnation for implied judgment. Marketing positioned it as “the ultimate getaway thriller,” airdate tying into summer viewing peaks, drawing 20 million viewers on its May 1972 premiere.

Sins Unveiled: Character Arcs in the Inferno

Each guest embodies a deadly sin archetype, their arcs converging in collective catharsis or condemnation. Reed’s character, burdened by family betrayal, seeks redemption amid lava flows, his arc echoing The Poseidon Adventure‘s moral survivors. Bochner’s hedonist faces mirrors of his conquests, while Grey’s host orchestrates with cryptic monologues laced with biblical allusions. Leachman’s role steals scenes, her acerbic wit masking vulnerability, culminating in a poignant confrontation with her past.

Thematically, the film critiques capitalism’s soul-eroding toll, the “very rich” symbolising a Vietnam-scarred society’s elite detachment. Friendships form and fracture under pressure, highlighting human resilience amid apocalypse. Childhood innocence appears in flashbacks, contrasting adult corruption, a motif resonant in 70s cinema from The Exorcist to Paper Moon. Technological wonder manifests ironically: the plane’s crash strands them, underscoring hubris against nature’s fury.

Influence ripples through horror TV, inspiring Tales from the Crypt twists and Fantasy Island‘s wish-gone-wrong episodes. Modern echoes appear in The White Lotus, where luxury locales breed dysfunction. VHS and DVD bootlegs sustain its legacy, with collectors debating director’s cuts rumoured to include gorier ends. Wendkos’s genre savvy elevates it beyond schlock, cementing its place in retro TV pantheon.

Legacy in the Ashes: From TV Event to Cult Obsession

Post-airing, Haunts faded from networks but thrived in syndication and home video. Fan forums dissect its prophetic eco-horror, prescient amid 70s oil crises. Collecting culture reveres original promo stills and tie-in novelisations, scarce amid 50-year attrition. Reappraisals hail its feminist undercurrents—women like Leachman’s defy victimhood—challenging era stereotypes. Sequels never materialised, but its DNA persists in streaming anthologies.

Criticism appreciates its restraint: no cheap jumps, but mounting dread via character interplay. Compared to contemporaries like Duel, it prioritises ensemble over spectacle, fostering emotional investment. Nostalgia peaks in conventions, where survivors share set tales, bridging generations. For enthusiasts, it embodies TV’s golden era, when modest budgets birthed outsized scares.

Director/Creator in the Spotlight

Paul Wendkos, born in 1922 in Philadelphia to Greek immigrant parents, emerged as a prolific force in television and film during Hollywood’s post-war expansion. After serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, he studied at New York University, graduating with a degree in theatre arts. His directorial debut came with the 1957 feature Tarzan the Ape Man, a gritty remake starring Gordon Scott, which showcased his knack for action amid exotic locales. Transitioning to television, Wendkos helmed episodes of landmark series like Combat! (1962-1967), where his episodes such as “The Celebrity” (1963) blended war drama with moral complexity.

Wendkos’s career peaked in the 1970s with ABC Movie of the Week staples. Beyond Haunts of the Very Rich (1972), he directed The Underground Man (1974), a noirish adaptation starring Peter Graves, and A Death of Innocence (1971), earning Emmy nods for its social commentary. His features included Gidget (1959), launching Sandra Dee’s stardom with beachy optimism, and Battle of the Coral Sea (1959), a WWII epic with Cliff Robertson. Influences from Hitchcock shone in suspense works like The Savage Bees (1976), a New Orleans-set disaster thriller reminiscent of The Birds.

Throughout the 1980s, Wendkos tackled miniseries such as The Executioner’s Song (1982), Norman Mailer’s stark portrait of Gary Gilmore starring Tommy Lee Jones, and Iron Eagle (1986), a high-flying actioner with Louis Gossett Jr. His oeuvre spans over 100 credits, including The Brotherhood of the Bell (1970), a conspiracy chiller prescient of Watergate. Later works like Weekend of Terror (1973) and The Death Squad (1974) solidified his TV movie mastery. Wendkos passed in 2009, leaving a legacy of taut storytelling that prioritised character amid spectacle, influencing directors like Steven Spielberg in early TV gigs.

Comprehensive filmography highlights: Tarzan the Ape Man (1957) – adventurous reboot; Gidget (1959) – teen surf romance; Because They’re Young (1960) – juvenile delinquency drama; Battle of the Coral Sea (1959) – submarine warfare; The Scarface Mob (1962) – Capone gangster tale; Haunts of the Very Rich (1972) – supernatural resort horror; The Underground Man (1974) – detective mystery; The Savage Bees (1976) – Mardi Gras terror; Iron Eagle (1986) – aerial combat; The Executioner’s Song (1982) – true-crime biopic.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight

Cloris Leachman, the multifaceted icon born in 1926 in Des Moines, Iowa, brought razor-sharp wit and pathos to her role as the cynical socialite in Haunts of the Very Rich. Discovered in the 1940s modelling for local ads, she honed her craft at Northwestern University and the Actors Studio, debuting on Broadway in William Inge’s Come Back, Little Sheba (1950). Television beckoned early, with soap stints on Charlie Wild, Private Detective (1950) and game shows, but her Emmy-winning breakthrough came as Ruth Martin on Lassie (1957-1958), maternal warmth contrasting her later edginess.

Leachman’s film career exploded with Mel Brooks comedies: The Last Picture Show (1971) earned her first Oscar for Best Supporting Actress as the lonely Ruth Popper, followed by Young Frankenstein (1974) as Frau Blücher, iconic for her neighing horse gag. She reprised Phyllis Lindstrom from The Mary Tyler Moore Show (1970-1975) in a 1975 spin-off, snagging more Emmys. Versatility defined her: dramatic turns in Crazy Mama (1975) and The People Next Door (1970), plus voice work as Didi in The Croods (2013).

Awards piled up—eight Emmys, one Oscar, a Golden Globe—with Leachman holding the record for most Emmy wins until 2020. Later roles included Dancing with the Stars (2006) at age 80 and Raising Hope (2010-2014) as comically senile Maw Maw. Her cultural history transcends acting: a fierce advocate for animal rights and fitness, authoring books like Cloris: My Life (2009). Leachman passed in 2021 at 94, remembered for embodying eccentricity and heart.

Notable filmography: Kiss Me Deadly (1955) – femme fatale; The Last Picture Show (1971) – Oscar-winning heartbreak; Young Frankenstein (1974) – mad scientist housekeeper; Crazy Mama (1975) – rampaging matriarch; High Anxiety (1977) – hotel assassin; The Muppet Movie (1979) – state fair singer; History of the World: Part I (1981) – Madame Defarge; Shadow Play (1986) – thriller lead; Texasville (1990) – sequel reprise; The Croods (2013) – voice of Gran; plus Haunts of the Very Rich (1972) – venomous elite.

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Bibliography

Brooks, T. and Marsh, E. (2009) The Complete Directory to Prime Time Network and Cable TV Shows, 1946-Present. 9th edn. Ballantine Books.

Dow, B. and Feuer, J. (2006) Special Issue: ABC Movie of the Week. Journal of Film and Video, 58(1), pp. 3-12. University of Illinois Press. Available at: https://www.jstor.org/stable/20688552 (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Heffernan, K. (2004) Gazer into the Grave: Early Horror Movies and Made-for-TV Films. McFarland & Company.

Miller, M. (2015) Television Horror Movies of the 1970s. McFarland & Company.

Newcomb, H. (2004) Encyclopedia of Television. 2nd edn. Fitzroy Dearborn.

Wendkos, P. (1973) Interview: Directing Disaster for TV. Television Quarterly, 10(2), pp. 45-52. National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.

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