Director Pete Walker is best known for his two 1974 exploitation classics “House of Whipcord” and “Frightmare.” The former a sadistic spin on the women-in-prison subgenre, the latter a gory shocker about an unhinged woman with a taste for human flesh. Walker gained quite a bit of notoriety in Britain for making brutal films that dared to comment on religion and politics. Both “Whipcord” and “Frightmare” were substantial hits, in part, because of their subversive subtexts. The lurid sex and over-the-top violence no doubt helped at the boxoffice as well. What is often overlooked when discussing the British director’s oeuvre, is that his productions were often impeccably cast and acted. In fact, Walkers biggest strength is that he is undeniably an actor’s director; finessing strong performances from both established character actors and relative unknowns. Names such as the late, great Sheila Keith (who would appear in several Walker films) and Rupert Davies were well-respected actors in their own right, often juggling more prestigious fare with low-budget horror productions. Indeed most of Walker’s films are so dramatically sound that they come off far more intense and suspenseful than they have any right to be. Visually his films are not as distinguished as many of his American contemporaries, but he more than makes up for this with intriguing characters and a wonderful sense of the absurd.

“The Confessional” (aka “The Confessional Murders, aka “The House of Mortal Sin”) from 1976 is a solid entry in the Walker cannon, though nowhere near as memorable as the previously mentioned works. The plot revolves around a troubled young woman named Jenny (Susan Penhaligon) who has been having trouble with her live-in boyfriend. A chance meeting with an old friend who has recently joined the priesthood lifts her mood. Father Bernard (Norman Eshley) lends a sympathetic ear and he briefly counsels her on her problems. To complicate matters, Bernard and Jenny’s sister Vanessa (the wonderful Stephanie Beachum) were at one time romantically involved. Back at her flat Jenny’s scoundrel boyfriend Terry (Stewart Bevan) makes a hasty exit, tired of their constant fighting. Even more depressed about his departure, Jenny goes to the church where Father Bernard works and inadvertently finds herself inside the confessional. It turns out that Father Bernard has the night off and the creepy Father Meldrum (Anthony Sharp) is doling out the forgiveness. Though she is reluctant to speak to him, she ends up sharing some of her problems with the older priest. She confesses that she’s been in a strained relationship with her boyfriend and has recently had an abortion. Father Meldrum shows great interest in her predicament, especially regarding intimate sexual issues. His questioning grows more and more personal, making Jenny increasingly uncomfortable. He requests that she him for personal counseling, forcing her to flee quickly out of the confessional.

She goes back to her flat that she shares with her sister who is concerned about her anxious state. Making matters worse, the creepy Father Meldrum turns out to be, as such Walker characters often are, a sexually repressed lunatic. He tape records the confessions of young women only to black mail them into seeing him personally for private counseling. Meldrum is assisted by the equally disturbed Miss Brabazon (Keith), his one-eyed caretaker. She acts as both a passive judge to his criminal behavior and sadistic nursemaid to his senile mother. The most disturbing moment has Brabazon alone in a room with Meldrum’s mute mom where she sadistically announces, ‘You’re alone again… with me.’ (Now that’s the film Walker fans would have wanted to see!) Meldrum confronts Jenny with the tape recording and threatens to blackmail her unless she agrees to see him privately. More horrified than intimidated by the lecherous old priest she again spurns his advances, but her reaction proves deadly. Meldrum follows her home and ends up harming a male companion he mistakes for her boyfriend. More people are killed as the priest attempts to alternately “save” Jenny and cover up for his escalating crimes.

“The Confessional” is a difficult film to categorize. It’s not overtly exploitive like “Whipcord” and not a down and dirty horror narrative like “Frightmare.” This is more of a conventional thriller with elements of horror and Italian giallo. It’s also a not-so-subtle critique on the Catholic church and the hypocrisy therein (just as relevant today as it was almost 30 years ago). Walker co-wrote it with his frequent collaborator David McGillivray and it certainly resides in the same demented neighborhood as their earlier productions. Though not as cutting or suspenseful as Alfred Sole’s classic catholic nightmare “Alice, Sweet, Alice,” released the same year, it’s definitely a superior thriller. What makes it work so successfully is the great ensemble that Walker has put together. Penhaligon makes a memorable protagonist, giving her rather traditional role (the victim no one believes) an authentic dose of paranoia and horror. Beacham as Vanessa is always a standout in her genre vehicles. She’s one of the only reasons to watch “Inseminoid.” Her graceful portrayal of the sympathetic sister gives quite a bit of weight to the simplistic plotting. True to most Walker films, the real stars here are the disturbed antagonists. Sharp gives a skin crawling performance as the unhinged priest. His first scene in the confessional with Penhaligon is disturbing whether you have a Catholic background or not. Keith, as the quiet Brabazon, is always good. Here she plays a minor supporting role used mainly for exposition, but her mere presence lends a great deal of uneasiness. In addition to his actors and co-writer, Walker’s stable of recurring talent extended to his technical crew as well. The film was shot by Peter Jessop who photographed many of Walker’s most famous films. Visually it’s not as exciting as “Whipcord,” but few films could match the bizarre, claustrophobic feeling of that infamous shocker. The scenes in “The Confessional” are captured in undistinguished composition, adding to the sense of realism but diluting much of the suspense.

This Shriek Show package is a fitting homage to Walker and his auspicious career. The film itself is presented in its original 1.85:1 aspect ratio, though it’s a rather rough print with artifacts present throughout. It’s been given a Dolby Digital mix which is clear enough, but like the picture presentation, it’s a mediocre effort. What makes this package a must for fans are the great supplements included here. First up is feature-length commentary with the legend himself Pete Walker assisted by author Jonathon Rigby. It’s a compelling, candid review of the making-of and it’s thoroughly engaging throughout. There are also two documentary shorts that include the involvement of Walker, co-writer McGillivray, actress Penhaligon and others. Both were produced, curiously enough, by Anchor Bay and are well-edited and smartly researched pieces. “Courting Controversy” has Walker commenting on his most famous films. He’s refreshingly realistic about both his successes and failures; he readily admits that actress Susan George was wrong for the title role in “Die Screaming Marianne,” his bid for a mainstream hit. “Sheila Keith: A Nice Old Lady” is a respectful look at the wonderful character actress who gave Walker’s films much of their edge. Also included is an extensive photo gallery and trailers for some of Walker’s films. Annoying, the original trailer for “House of Mortal Sin” is not one of them. You do get to see how “House of Whipcord” was originally marketed to the drive-in crowd. “Flesh and Blood Show,” “Marianne,” “Frightmare” and the bizarre “The Comeback” trailers are all present and accounted for, making this package a must-have for Walker fans.

Once again it’s a stellar package for a good but flawed film… One hopes that the same care (but a better print) is given to future DVD releases of “Whipcord” and Walker’s more revered films.