In the mid 1960s, a pilot titled 'The Haunted' was shot in the hopes of launching a new series that would be something like 'The Twilight Zone' and 'The Outer Limits', but would concentrate more on flat-out horror. The series was not picked up, so what we now have is a stand-alone TV movie that is good and interesting, and a notable entry into genre television. (There also exists the version 'The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre', which includes some additional scenes, and which this reviewer will be referring to.) Robert Stevens, a veteran of 'Alfred Hitchcock Presents' and TZ, started directing, but fell very ill, and directing chores were then turned over to writer-producer Joseph Stefano, who of course had adapted Robert Blochs' novel "Psycho" for Hitchcock.
Martin Landau stars as Nelson Orion (a neat name, that), an architect who fights for the preservation of historical buildings. He also dabbles in the supernatural, because it's an interesting subject for him. He investigates hauntings, yet doesn't automatically reach for the most outlandish explanation. He grants that a good number of them can be no more than pranks, or otherwise have a reasonable explanation. He comes to the aid of blind rich man Henry Mandore (episodic TV veteran Tom Simcox), who thinks he's being haunted by his late mother. The plot thickens in intriguing ways, as Nelson meets Henry's wife Vivia (the pretty Diane Baker, "Strait-Jacket") and mysterious housekeeper Paulina (Dame Judith Anderson, "Rebecca").
'The Ghost of Sierra de Cobre' can legitimately claim to be genuinely spooky. It has the kind of wonderful atmosphere that the best "old dark house" movies possess. Two of the people responsible for its great look are the renowned cinematographers Conrad L. Hall ("Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid") and William A. Fraker ("Rosemary's Baby"). (The latter was the camera operator here.) And Dominic Frontiere did the shuddery score.
The movie doesn't miss opportunities for humour, considering the relationship that Nelson has with his witty housekeeper, Mary Finch (Nellie Burt, another TV veteran). She professes not to believe in the supernatural, while he prefers to be open to all possibilities. This leads to an interesting conversation between the two of them.
This is sort of done in the tradition of great black & white horror like "The Haunting" (1963), except that this time we do get to see the spirit, and it's a pretty good effect for a TV movie shot over 50 years ago. It's appropriately gnarly-looking.
More people should be made aware of this one. At the least, it's a good candidate for a cult favourite.
Eight out of 10.
