Hollywood has created two original film genres in the last ten years: the horror comedy and the beach picture. As its title suggests, The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini is an attempt at reconciliation.

Even the cast mishmashes beach and horror types. Boris Karloff plays a corpse in search of his youth; Tommy Kirk, who must be pushing 30, plays his usual teenager; Basil Rathbone, who must be 80 and sorely in need of funds, plays a conniving old lawyer; and Nancy Sinatra embodies all her father's physical attributes except his voice.

There are a couple of new offerings. Maureen O'Hara's daughter Quinn is Rathbone's daughter Sinistra; Deborah Walley is Kirk's semifrigid girlfriend; and one Aron Kincaid does a "new" Hollywood type--the dumb blond beachboy.

Having assembled this odd lot, Ghost makes no claims about its originality. The storyline, believe it or not, involves a boy and a girl who go to a haunted house in order to hear the reading of a will (Karloff's). Rathbone tries to scare them off with all kinds of fake monsters who emerge from all kinds of fake walls. Then the beach angle is introduced as a bunch of leftovers from Muscle Beach Party set up camp around the swimming pool, and a motorcycle gang finds its way into the haunted corridors.

From these inauspicious beginnings, Ghost goes wonderfully haywire. Maybe I should explain just who is this ghost in the invisible bikini and what does she want? Susan Hart plays her; her task on earth is to make sure Karloff's money finds its way to his proper heirs.

Anyway, the house at length becomes overcrowded with monsters and beach people, until a chain reaction sets in and Ghost spirals down to a groovy finish. In the interim director Don Weis proves himself no cigar, but a half-decent movie and a promising new genre emerge in spite of him.