Former pirate radio DJ Mike Raven plays Victor Clare (a case where the actor has a scarier name than the character he plays), reclusive artist who, one strongly suspects, has the unpleasant House-of-Wax-y propensity to pour molten metal on his models in order to bronze them. A group of characters with varying agendas gather at his Cornwall abode: his senile wife; his sexually ambivalent model; his weak, alcoholic son (Ronald Lacey, a long way from the menacing Nazi he would later play in Raiders of the Lost Ark) and impatient daughter-in-law; a neophyte art dealer and his girlfriend, Millie (Mary Maude). Victor becomes obsessed with Millie, determined make her his artistic muse. Meanwhile, the cast is being gruesomely bumped off one after the other.

Raven comes across very much as a poor man's Christopher Lee. He has the height (more or less), he has a deep voice, and he even looks not unlike Lee. But he has none of the master's screen presence, and isn't as frightening as he clearly should be. Most of the film is a rather dull plod, with characters wandering about, flirting or sniping at each other, and repeating conversations ad nauseum. The murders come along every so often to spice things up, but given Victor's obvious villainy, one might well wonder why the film is being so coy about the killings, and refusing to show us the killer.