I think, though, for me House ('86) is at its best when totally off its proverbial rocker. The dog finding the green-blue ax-chop-severed creature hand in a burial dirt hole in Cobb's back yard. That same hand attached to a little boy's sweater when his babe mom needs Cobb to babysit him. Two midget monsters trying to kidnap the boy by dragging him away through a fireplace. Cobb flushing the aforementioned hand down his toilet. Cobb gunshot of a flapping giant swordfish on his uncle's wall. Tools from a shed freely pursuing Cobb, determined to harm him. Ben, the soldier zombie, out to get his pound of flesh as Cobb must outsmart him in order to ultimately rescue his son and keep them both safe. Wendt realizing just why his neighbor seemed so unstable, as Harold is told by Cobb that he is needed to help get rid of a supposed giant raccoon. The chosen music, not exactly what one would typically associate with the absurdity that it does in the film. I realize every year, and every time I watch this, just why it appeals to. The zany grotesqueries of the film are a reminder to me just why I embrace it, this crazy bit of 80s comic horror.
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