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Editing footage of a Bible-thumping Texas haunted house into a snarky, mean-spirited send-up of the religion and values of its participants would be as simple as shooting fish in a proverbial barrel. Producer/director George Whittenburg Ratliff, however, opts for something subtler and more open-ended in his exploration of the Dallas-born "Hell House" phenomenon. Sure, the film is funny, but the fun isn't so different from watching most any amateur theatrical troupe mount a bare-bones production for a homegrown audience. Here, though, the Judy Garland/Mickey Rooney dynamics of putting on a show take on an absurd tinge as moral melodrama replaces song-and-dance as the mode of expression. Regardless of one's political or spiritual affiliations, there's something inherently strange about watching teenaged girls vie for the chance to portray a bloodied abortion-seeker on her way to eternal damnation. Ratliff, however, hones in on the universal rather than the extreme: the self-importance of a techie who considers himself a renowned authority on the evils of rave culture; the palpable ache of auditioning thespians as they compete for choice roles; and the sheer pluck that allows a group of volunteers to entertain and possibly influence thousands of viewers every October. The scenes that keep Hell House from becoming just a verite take on Waiting for Guffman come near the end, as one tour group questions the morals it is being taught, and countless others are strongly encouraged to engage in one-on-one spiritual counseling to avoid the fates they've just seen acted out. Which scene, if either, that any individual viewer finds disturbing will probably speak volumes about his or her beliefs. As for Ratliff, he keeps his own thoughts to himself: journalistic objectivity in service of a story whose meaning changes with the viewer's perspective. Brian J. Dillard, All Movie Guide

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