Cathy's Curse (1977) – Eddy Matalon.

'Go on! You filthy female cow, make us laugh!!!!'

A family move into the father's (Alan Scarfe) ostentatious ancestral abode, his high-anxiety wife (Beverly Murray), still traumatized from a recent tragedy, and their only child, blonde moppet Cathy (Randi Allen), who immediately proceeds to brattishly spook-out all in sundry with her hellaciously skeevey doll in deliciously fromage-laden French Canadian creeper Cathy's Curse. Steeped with such overripe ingredients as these can have a tendency to spoil over time, happily, the lengthy maturation process has galvanized the inherent kitschy kookiness, the crudamentary FX, and mirthsome mock melodrama, making Cathy's Curse an enjoyable, creaky-creepy, supernaturally-inflected soap opera to cherish! There's some especially flavoursome dialogue, delivered over earnestly by over eager actors, providing a splendour of unplanned hilarity! Two of the most endearing characters are shambling dipso gardener Paul, who bares a distractingly uncanny likeness to Fleetwood Mac Drummer, Mick Fleetwood, and a blandly inauthentic medium, her sterile lines delivered with all the dynamism of a congealed omelette, her confrontation with a tweaked grammie Clampett is B-Movie gold! All too few film-makers can resist recycling the water into blood gag, but Cathy's Curse had the chutzpah to up the ante, by queasily throwing in an additional fistful of yucky-sucky leeches!