One of the many '70s horror diamonds in the rough that amassed a cult following over the years, Let's Scare Jessica to Death is one of those irrational regional films like Messiah of Evil, Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things, The Haunting of Julia, or Phantasm that are best seen accidentally late at night with as little advance knowledge as possible. Despite its PG rating (back when the MPAA hadn't quite figured out that system yet), it's an intense and potent gem that made for an auspicious calling card for director John D. Hancock; the film was picked up by Paramount who kept him around to direct Bang the Drum Slowly, followed by Baby Blue Marine and an ill-fated stint as the first director of Jaws 2. Despite the title, this isn't a "drive the heiress crazy" story at all as you might expect; instead it's a remarkable fusion of supernatural horror and mental illness study that just gets better with repeated viewings.

Out in the countryside, Jessica (Lampert) has recently been discharged from a mental health facility and is accompanying her musician husband, Duncan (Heyman), to stay at the rustic farmhouse they've purchased. Along for the ride is their friend Woody (O'Connor), and their presence doesn't seem to go over too well with the provincial locals. Upon investigating the house they stumble on a squatter, Emily (Costello), and invite her to stay for a while-- something that clashes with Jessica's mental stability since she's prone to hearing voices and seeing a mysterious beckoning girl (Corbett) at odd moments. Even stranger, Emily bears a very strong resemblance to the tragic daughter of the house's original 19th-century owners, someone now rumored to be a predatory being roaming the area.

With its eerie Connecticut autumn setting and chilling music score, Jessica runs largely on pure atmosphere and the superb lead performance by Lampert whose sympathetic and highly appealing character makes for one of the era's most realistic portrayals of struggling with mental issues. Costello is also perfectly cast, making for a slippery and beguiling mystery figure who has often drawn comparisons to J. Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla with her possibly vampiric tendencies. From the beginning Hancock intended the film to be ambiguous about whether Jessica is imagining the escalating horrors around here, though given that the film has multiple scenes indicating the presence of the supernatural in which she isn't present, this falls more neatly in with The Haunting of Hill House and Robert Wise's film version in which mental instability and the uncanny definitely intersect with chilling results. How much Jessica is involved in triggering the proceedings is a more interesting question to contemplate given her fondness for grave rubbings and the early seance scene, with her own inner turbulence possibly attracting and stimulating the darker elements around her. No matter how you want to read it though, this is a terrifically creepy film you won't shake off for a while.

Once a regular on basic cable channels in the '80s and easy to find on VHS, Let's Scare Jessica to Death has floated on and off of home video ever since including a no-frills DVD in 2006 from Paramount (later briefly revived as a DVD-R from Warner Archive during the studio's distribution deal). Scream Factory bowed it on Blu-ray in 2020 featuring a strong new HD master with DTS-HD MA 2.0 mono English audio with English SDH subtitles, a configuration repeated ever since. That disc comes with an audio commentary by Hancock and producer Bill Badalato, a trailer, a TV spot, a radio spot, and a still gallery, plus three new featurettes starting with "Art Saved My Life" (16m25s) with composer Orville Stoeber (whose work here desperately needs an official soundtrack release) talking about his Army brat upbringing and exposure to music, the role of singing in his life, his first encounter with Hancock, and the working process on this film in capacities as both an actor and a composer. In "Scare Tactics: Reflections on a Seventies Horror Classic" (23m44s), historian Kim Newman explains how this became his favorite horror movie when he saw it at a formative moment in his life and what it means to him as an artistic achievement toying with his own love of vampires. Finally in "She Walks These Hills" (6m49s), you get an extended look at the film's key locales as they look now versus their use in the film. The following year in 2021, Imprint issued an Australian Blu-ray from the same master (with a few color timing variations) and porting over the Stoeber and locations featurettes and the Hancock-Badalato commentary (plus the promotional material). The Newman featurette is jettisoned in favor of a new commentary track with him and filmmaker Prano Bailey-Bond (Censor), plus a standalone commentary by Kat Ellinger.

In 2025, Vinegar Syndrome gave the film its worldwide UHD debut as a two-disc set with a Blu-ray housing all the video bonus material (which has nearly no overlap with past releases, so hang on to those if you have 'em). The new scan from the 35mm original camera negative looks excellent as expected, similar in color timing and framing to the earlier HD presentation but tightening up on the UHD in particular with a more robust color presentation (HDR-compatiable Dolby Vision) and tighter, more resolved film grain. This time you get two entirely new commentary tracks, the first featuring Hancock with the label's Justin LaLiberty (who's nearly inaudible, so be careful how you adjust your volume). This one hits all the necessary beats including the director's Oscar-nominated short film background, his intense study of Hitchcock, the initially satirical nature of the script before he rewrote it, his approach to jump scares, the personal details from his family and himself he incorporated, and more. (It's also worth noting that both of Hancock's commentaries are complete and unmolested which is far more than can be said for the brutality inflicted on his Blu-ray commentary for California Dreaming by MGM.) The second track is Newman's second go-round as well, this time with Sean Hogan pulling apart all the genre connections, the vampire films of the early '70s connected to this in various ways, the surprise factor for those who stumbled on this film, and the possibly lesbian undertones, among plenty of other topics. Both are completely packed and well worth a listen.

"A New Medium" (15m19s) is a new video interview with Hancock which inevitably overlaps a bit with his track but serves as a solid overview of how the film came to be through his various industry connections, his mentors, and his intentions for this film. In "The Stars Align" (11m26s), Badalato gives his own account of the film's independent mounting, the path of the screenplay to his desk, the functions of a producer that vary from film to film, and the process of executing this one with limited means and a tiny cast. Stoeber appears in "The Sound of Terror" (12m8s) for a different chronicle of his personal musical path and his approach to using synthesizers on this film (still a novelty at the time). Finally in "A Haunted Quality" (21m48s), Stephen Thrower brings his expertise in American regional horror to good use for a dissection of this film as a progression of the previous decade's horror breakthroughs, a key example of a studio negative pick-up, and its status as a subtle and very significant film with a highly misleading title. Also included are the trailer, TV spot, radio spot, and a 2m20s gallery, while the deluxe package comes with an illustrated book with essays by Molly Henery ("Malefiori: Madness and Seduction in Let's Scare Jessica to Death"), Quatoyiah Murry ("At Least I'm Safe Inside My Mind"), Jason Bailey ("Act Normal: The Unreliable Narrators of Let's Scare Jessica to Death"), all with their own unique takes on the film's depiction of a mental state trying to parse out a terrifying reality.

Vinegar Syndrome (Blu-ray)

Imprint (Blu-ray)

Scream Factory (Blu-ray)

Reviewed on June 13, 2025