Review – 8213: Gacy House

So we’re going to do the Blair Witch thing only at John Wayne Gacy’s house? Oh, where to begin? For starters – as the opening text freely acknowledges – the house no longer exists. And even when it was there, it was a modest bit of suburbia rather than the rambling manse that hosts this production. Indeed, that middle-class normalcy was a big part of what made Gacy and his burial ground so creepy. Like The Blair Witch Project, this manages a reasonable bit of spookiness at the very end. But this small bit of horror kibble in no way justifies enduring the rest of the agonizing experience. Wish I’d skipped it