Wicked, Wicked (1973)

Wicked, Wicked is special because it doesn’t just want to scare you—it wants to unsettle you with style, turning a sunlit seaside hotel into a glossy, paranoid maze where anyone could be watching and no one feels safe. Richard L. Bare stages the mystery with a pulpy 1970s confidence: lurid atmosphere, a masked predator, and a creeping sense that the building itself is complicit as the bodies pile up and the suspects multiply. The film’s mix of crime procedural and stalk-and-slash tension gives it a propulsive, page-turner vibe, while Tiffany Bolling brings a grounded vulnerability that makes the danger feel personal rather than mechanical. It’s not for viewers craving subtlety or modern pacing, but if you want an offbeat, time-capsule thriller that leans into its gimmicks and delivers a sticky, voyeuristic chill, this one has a wickedly watchable pull.

Wicked, Wicked is clearly trying to be a stylish, seaside whodunit with a slasher edge, leaning into its hotel setting, masked-killer gimmick, and a steady drip of suspicion across a small cast of potential culprits. The catch is that it often plays more like a slow, oddly staged TV thriller than a lean horror-mystery, with pacing that can feel padded and tension that doesn’t always land when it should. If you’re coming for sharp scares, a clever mystery, or polished performances, you may find it more quaint than gripping, and the “killer targets blondes” hook can feel repetitive rather than escalating. Still, if you enjoy early-’70s genre curios, beachy atmosphere, and a low-budget murder puzzle that’s more about vibe than payoff, it has just enough oddball charm to be worth a look.