Evil Cats! 😼

Evil Cats. MeowMeowMeow!

By Kristin Battestella

Our cats are avid television watchers, and the sounds and visuals of this feline horror trio amused them as much as me.

The Cat Creature – Amulets, mummies, an empty sarcophagus, and black cats combine for a Val Lewton-esque mood in this 1973 ABC TV movie written by Robert Bloch (The House That Dripped Blood) starring Meredith Baxter (The Invasion of Carol Enders). Retro cars and cool California villas provide hieroglyphics, Egyptian motifs, and eerie crescendos as lawyers assessing the deceased's creepy manor survey kooky antiques and looted collections. Though slow to start, the subdued palette invokes a black and white feeling that highlights the golden statuary and colorful artifacts. Spiral stairs, flashlights, shadows, and feline silhouettes are well done alongside glowing eyes, mesmerized victims, meowing, and hooting owls. A shady “sorcerer's shop” procures creepy skulls and masks, but the ominous Miss Black proprietor has already crossed paths with this crusty police lieutenant and knows to turn away our stolen talisman. The ingenue walking home alone at night, however, encounters kitten deceptions, hisses, and screams. The cops call in archaeology professor David Hedison (Live and Let Die) to assess the missing mummy bones, scratched out Bast symbols, jewel thieves, and human sacrifices said to give eternal life and transformative cat powers. Flirtations lead to an affinity for Egyptology – but not for the alley cats accumulating at the door. Disbelievers mock the Book of Toth mysticism and the coroner's hair evidence claiming a domestic cat is responsible for draining the blood of the victims, but our professor theorizes on why disparate cultures all have shape-shifting folklore and warns of Ancient Egyptians knowing more of the supernatural and science than we can fathom. The amulet clues, grounded investigation, and eerie explanations don't talk down to the audience. Certainly the solution is obvious before the finale, but the creepy guest stars, stylish witchy vibes, and tarot cards make for a fun time with well paced deaths, thefts, and twists. We know there's an evil cat in the room when the lights go out, and the spooky climax does a little with a lot. This was better than I expected thanks to a mature, even sympathetic approach and dedicated throwback horror atmosphere.

Two Evil Eyes – George A. Romero (Creepshow) and Dario Argento (Phenomena) tackle two contemporary Poe adaptations in this 1990 Italian co-production featuring Adrienne Barbeau (The Fog), Harvey Keitel (The Piano), John Amos (The Beastmaster), and more familiar faces. Lawyers are reluctant to accept the iffy signature of our eponymous hospice husband granting his former flight attendant wife cash access in Romero's “The Facts in the Case of Mr. Valdemar” but she has the cigarettes, big eighties sunglasses, and shoulder pads to get her way. There's a tinge of guilt, however, as her doctor lover enjoys keeping Valdemar in a state of subconscious hypnosis – attached to metronomes and monitors in a suggestive, aware state. The eerie Tudor manor and Old World wrought iron spiral stairs contrast the beeping machinery; arguments over the morbid stasis and moments of painful clarity disrupt the distrustful dalliances. Technicalities about the thievery and the timing on the paperwork versus the flatlining equipment begat the rush to preserve the cadaver in the freezer – with the food! Mixing pills, booze, and self-hypnosis where no one else can wake you lead to backstabbings over the cash, hastily dug graves, and moaning from inside said freezer. The not so deceased croaks of souls from beyond the grave as storms, gunshots, splatter, and restless spirits give the police a gory resolution. The cops in Argento's “The Black Cat,” however, are gagging at the nude body cut in half while our photographer snaps away to capture the swinging pendulum. Unfortunately, the titular stray taken in by his girlfriend interferes in the red dark room process. Scratching and hissing jars with her classical music, and she warn him cats remember their past persecutions and medieval injustices. The uncooperative four legged model dislikes the rough portrait poses and goes “missing” while drinking and violence conjure a hazy dream from the middle ages with bonfires, singsong rituals, and strung up victims. Chases, cleavers, lookalike cats, noose symbols, and fatalities mount as the demented artiste's disturbing photography book hits the shelves. Hellish bars, catholic touches, and living in sin judgments add to the sociopathic suggestions. Police inquire if he tortured the cat for his art and neighbors knock on the door over the meowing, pick axes, and stench behind the wall. Although this feels a little long or unevenly paced and superfluous rather than taut when deviating from the cat comeuppance, the intense finale brings the prophetic feline justice to the forefront for fans of cast, crew, and Poe.

The Uncanny – Eccentric writer Peter Cushing (Curse of Frankenstein) warns Montreal publisher Ray Milland (The Premature Burial) of felines run amok in this eighty-eight minute 1977 anthology. The expose he's written on cats has him looking over his shoulder at every rattling trash can, meow, and black cat at the gate before side eyeing a fluffy, pampered cat named Sugar. The cat cinematography is well filmed with zooms, pet points of view, up close eyes, and purring as our First London 1912 Tale looks the antiqued, lace part. The lady of the manor's cats are everywhere, and she intends to leave everything to her pride. The greedy maid, however, is caught stealing the will – leading to disturbing smotherings, death throes, screams, and hissing. The kitty siege begats swats, scratches, and blood as the feline assembly and our trapped maid each grow hungry. The reactions, animal action, quick cuts, and frenetic attacks are very well done indeed considering there are seemingly dozens of cats accented by cries, howls, chirps, and trills. A recently orphaned girl and her black cat named Wellington move in with her snooty relatives in the contemporary Quebec Tale Two, but her snobby, jealous, violent cousin blames Wellington for spills and mishaps so her parents will get rid of him. Our charge insists that cats can talk – it just takes a long time to understand them. Fortunately, she has kept her deceased mother's books on the occult and uses the pentagrams and spells for a slightly humorous, if tiny, but chilling turnabout. Donald Pleasence's (Prince of Darkness) Thirties Hollywood Third Story blurs on set and behind the camera as a real pendulum in scene slices one half of our off screen couple amid medieval torches, racks, and iron maidens. It's dismissed as a props mistake as production resumes with our late wife's younger, lookalike understudy, but the deceased's cat objects to the mistress taking over the Art Deco manor, furs, and roadsters. Once they flush her kittens (!), our vengeful mother creates real danger on Dungeon of Horror. They try to trap her in terrible ways complete with all the cat got your tongue puns, however the farce can't outwit the justified feline. Although this humorous third tale should have been first and the more macabre Edwardian tale last, self-aware winks know not to take the subject matter too seriously without interfering in the effective unease. The soon to be Grand Moff Tarkin insists cats are devils in disguise making sure we behave, yet these ironic stories show the terrors of what cats might do only in reaction to cruel people deserving of such consequences.

Dial M for Murder

Dial M for Murder Remains Whodunit Expertise

by Kristin Battestella

Alfred Hitchcock (The Birds) directs the 1954 murder mystery Dial M for Murder featuring Ray Milland as an obsessive husband plotting to kill his adulterous wife Grace Kelly. Yes indeed, despite whimsical music, morning newspapers, and stereotypical bliss, our lady is kissing two men as daytime white robes give way to scandalous red dresses and evening cocktails. The reunited lovers catch up on blackmail, anonymous threats, and whether to tell her husband, but the British accents feel a little put on amid heaps of exposition. Fortunately, the pip pip cheerio phone manner adds to the fronts presented, and banter about buying a car with his money or hers and who gave up one's career for whom reveal more than what's really being said. Dial M for Murder has a lot of laden dialogue, past tense tellings written by Frederick Knott from his stage play, and for some audiences, the meticulous talking about comings and goings we didn't get to see may be too stiff. However, viewers also need to be informed of each recognition, supposedly coincidental encounter, and unaware pretense as the eponymous request drops so casually. Who's pulling the wool or has one over the barrel and who's going to blink first? Devious two-handers elaborately orchestrate the perfect crime via untraceable cash, switched keys, and fatally timed phone calls that can't prove who really did what. The first half hour of Dial M for Murder tells you who's going to be killed, when, where, and why with strategic placements, police scenarios, and assumed deductions. The only person who knows different will be dead, but the victim isn't where she's supposed to be, leading to suspenseful slip ups and costly mistakes. Stag party alibis, nightgowns, behind the curtain veils, roughness over the desk, risque strangulation, and penetrating scissors make for an interesting sexual, even cuckold or homoerotic symbolism. Our husband lets another man enter the home sanctity and do to his wife what he cannot – orchestrating the coughing, gasping, purple bruises, and rough aftermath as an over the phone voyeur. A brief intermission gives the audience some relief before locks, shoes, mud, handbags, and thefts leave holes in the revisionist history. What's been touched, misplaced, planted, burned? No forced entry and suspicious stockings escalate to lawyers, nightmarish trial montages, and an ominous sentencing. However preposterous or unproven, could there another perpetrator? Jolly good men pour drinks and ponder what if, winking at writing a detective novel and putting oneself in the criminal's shoes. “Just one more thing” deduction a la Columbo wears down the suspect with crunching numbers and attache cases suspense. Viewers must recall how the chess meets Clue really happened as each tries to outwit and reveal the truth.

Former tennis star now working man Ray Milland (ThePremature Burial) is so doting he even sends his wife to dinner and the theater with another man when he's working late. Unfortunately, Tony Wendice is clearly up to something, lying on the phone and faking knee injuries amid arguments about why he gave up sports and what he would do if his wife ever left him. Of course he knew about the affair – blackmailing Margot with her stolen letter in hopes the ended correspondence meant they would live happily again. His being the charming husband, however, only serves to hide his obsessive plotting on how to kill his missus. Tony is so suave about it, yet the detailed character focus reveals how crazy he really is – excited and pleased with his guaranteed calculations. He calls the police about this ghastly accident before serving them tea, planting evidence, and telling Margot to corroborate what lies he told. Tony speaks for her, too, using her shock for oh yes, but you see explanations and tidy answers. The debonair tall tales, however, only lead to more questions he cannot escape. Likewise sophisticated Grace Kelly (Rear Window) has ended her romance for her husband, contented at home even if she doesn't like listening to radio thrillers alone and seems like a kept little girl doing what her husband tells her. Margot robotically repeats what Tony says, confused by police and breaking down at the disturbing, intimate attack. Despite being the female victim held, used, attacked, and judged by men, Margot does have one moment of impaling power that disrupts her husband's plans. She's both numb and overwhelmed, not recalling his face but the horrible eyes and shamefully embarrassed for the adulterous truth to come out in her official statement. After all, scandalous women with secrets are unsympathetic to a jury. Mrs. Wendice lied about her lover, so why should anyone believe her now? Robert Cummings (Saboteur) as suave American writer Mark Halliday is here to be our lady's holiday fancy, using his literary perspective to help Margot though he can't quite put the pieces together thanks to carefully worded hypotheticals and holes poked in his theories. Shady criminal Anthony Dawson meanwhile – who appeared in the stage production with our Chief Inspector John Williams – is the swarthy, rough, killer womanizer able to do what our husband can't. Fortunately, our inspector knows more than he's saying, pursuing unnerving evidence and paperwork with jolly good deduction to counter every seemingly airtight explanation. He has a slick mustache, too!

Originally Dial M for Murder was designed for then vogue 3-D showings – evident now with obvious outdoor backdrops and exaggerated foreground objects. In hindsight, it makes no sense to have such a talkative piece presented in 3-D anyway, and if I could choose, perhaps Hitchcock's surreal Spellbound would have been a more interesting visual candidate. Bar carts in the forefront, moving silhouettes on the wall, cameras following the cast toward the screen, and filming through doorways also lend depth, but those are more about Hitchcock's voyeuristic audience rather than three dimensional staging. Exceptional lighting schemes, flickering firelight, and strategic lamps also spotlight areas or divide the frame for players with opposite motives. Keys and staircases play their usual Hitchcockian part amid retro rotary phones, giant receivers, vintage cars, fedoras, furs, cigars, and cigarettes. Dial M for Murder relies on a small two room set cluttered with furniture and objects to consider in the fatal orchestration – mirroring Dial M for Murder itself as the film tells you the plan then leaves viewers to wonder who gets away with it via panning cameras, overhead angles, killer point of view, and giallo mood. Frenetic notes match the violence as well as the internal simmering from our seemingly so cool characters, and when we do have action, it's claustrophobic, intimate, and scandalous. His and hers separate beds are moved out of the bedroom while the illicit couple is seen sitting on one bed, filmed through the headboard during conversations about which man has her key. While the DVD has a brief behind the scenes chat about the fifties 3-D craze, a twenty minute retrospective with contemporary directors breaking down Hitchcock's suspense whets the appetite for more. Of course, there are similar plots to a Dial M for Murder like A Perfect Murder that makes audiences these days more aware of the outcome. The slow, talky nature may bother some, yet that hoodwink, who's bluffing dialogue helps the suspense. Thanks to contemporary in your face and special effects, there's also a certain appreciation in how Dial M for Murder doesn't need elaborate set pieces thanks to deceptive performances, in camera assaults, and crime complications. In plain sight slight of hand, nail biting clues, charming criminals, and reverse whodunit lies remain entertaining shout at the screen excellence for mystery writers, fans of the cast, and Hitchcock enthusiasts.

A John Wayne Trio

A John Wayne Trio

by Kristin Battestella

Well actually this a very specific niche trio of John Wayne adventure films from the forties – a few non-western or war pictures despite the war time, if you will. Ironically, these rip roaring tales were surprisingly tough to find streaming or from Netflix snail mail compared to Wayne's other larger than life pictures – so settle in and enjoy, pilgrim!

Reap the Wild Wind – Ray Milland (The Lost Weekend), John Wayne, and Paulette Goddard (The Great Dictator) mix shipwrecks, swindlers, and love triangles in this colorful1942 Cecil B. DeMille (The Ten Commandments) mid 19^th century high seas adventure. Although sailor slang and nautical terms will be tough for some audiences without subtitles, schooner photography, whooshing winds, and thrashing waves invoke the perilous sea and forgive any obvious matte screens, rear projections, and soft focusing on the ladies. The underwater scenes and ye olde diving gear aren't bad, either, but my word that poor calamari! Cute monkeys and doggies add to the sweet period frocks, and the two hour plus run time moves fast between the rugged Key West inquests, stylish Charleston balls, and Victorian steam ship prizes. The young Wayne should have been a romantic lead more often, but here he's an angry seaman descending into illegal trade and reckless diving, shaping some intriguing turnabouts and character dimensions. Milland starts as a pompous jerk, yet there's a begrudging respect between the men. Though a progressive, pants-wearing businesswoman, Goddard's Loxi isn't always likable thanks to a laid on thick moxie and her playing both boys for her own gain. Several slaves are portrayed as stereotypically sassy, happy, and ready to gossip, too, while selling off enemy thugs to a whaling ship is wrongfully played as humorous. And Susan Hayward (also of the ill fated The Conqueror with Wayne) is meant to be from Cuba? DeMille tried his darnedest for an epic, coastal Gone with the Wind complete with a society shocking Scarlet loving the rogue and making aunts faint. However, this remains a fun melodramatic tale for the cast and seafaring spectacle.

Tycoon – South America, railroads, and romance lead to explosions, mountain tunnels, bridge perils, and an against the clock quest in this 1947 Technicolor saga. While matte paintings and facades are cardboard obvious and the sound is very uneven; sweet cars, lovely cathedral interiors, brightly dressed sophisticated ladies, and suave men's suits add proper flavor alongside rail carts, dynamite tools, and mining disasters. Likewise, John Wayne is an honest foreman who knows his job – when he's not being misbehaving and getting his contractor bosses in trouble with railroad financier Cedric Hardwicke (The Ten Commandments) that is. Wayne seems a little older than the role requires compared to leading lady Laraine Day (Dr. Kildare), too. However, The Duke knows what he's doing, and the audience immediately likes his getting the job done right and standing up to pressuring stockholders or rival engineer Anthony Quinn (Zorba the Greek). Unfortunately, the love and adventure mix feels like two separate movies – and building a dangerous railroad crossing without any fatalities on the job seems just a bit more important than a runaway date that ends up out of gas near some Inca ruins at sunset, because of course. Out all night with a girl and nothing happened but the Hayes Code is going to marry you! The pace drags thanks to coming and going soap opera styled conflicts, and Judith Anderson (Rebecca) has nothing to do. Melodramatic music swells when a woman dares talk back, telling her man she is wrong and will conform to his lifestyle. WTF? There are cliché Latino kids, but precious little espanol – eggs for breakfast? They're huevos! Although no one is trying on a fake bad accent, the locale doesn't feel as authentic as it should. The titular battle of wills hoped for something epic with an overlong two hour plus time, but the tale should have been woven tighter. Fortunately, this ditty proves Wayne could be a leading man with varied character depths, and a dangerous flash flood raging river finale goes out on top.

Wake of the Red Witch – Don't worry, I confuse the mid 19^th century high seas adventure of this 1948 John Wayne and Gail Russell vehicle with Reap the Wild Wind, too. Here, The Duke's a crusty captain imposing the law on his ship but withholding coordinates and an impressive gold bullion cargo. He's commanding as always, capable on shore and off, but his rugged violence crosses the line – and gasp, Duke don't cross the line, eva! It's some fine dimension on our heroic image and the erroneous notion that Wayne only made westerns. Although, this feels like a sea faring western: two respected men fighting over the local water rights while a dame's on the line. Ships, girls – they're both called 'she' for a reason. Of course, the young romance is a bit meh, and the age difference between 40-year-old Wayne and his not yet bittersweet but no less angelic Angel and the Badman co-star Russell at 24 is apparent. The unneeded narration is a trite exposition technique slowing the action, and the story that we should have seen in the first place is mostly all told in two flashbacks. The soft volume can make the who's stealing from whom rivalry confusing, but the pretty hoop skirts are always nice to see. There is some reused footage, but the woodwork, waves, frigates, and sails set the mood in spite of the black and white limitation, adding scope and danger to the tense below decks and double crossings. It's not Hornblower, and the film constructs are too apparent in the storytelling, however, sharks, cannons, shipwrecks, early diving suspense, octopus duels (yes again), giant pearls, and even bigger man eating seashells complete the adventure. If you like classic movie melodrama, fun swashbucklers, and John Wayne, this will be a pleasant little viewing escapade.

Harvest Haunts to See and Skip

Harvest Haunts and More

By Kristin Battestella

Since it’s never too early to start watching spooky movies in the Halloween spirit, here’s a list of what to snuggle up with this autumn and what to avoid like cemeteries at midnight-unless you’re into that sort of thing, of course.

See

House of Usher (2006) - For a classic horror fan, little can compare to the 1960 Corman staple House of Usher.  New interest in all things Poe has however brought new remakes and takes on his macabre tales, and believe it or not, this 2006 The House of Usher wasn’t that bad. There are some good plot differences from director Hayley Cloake (Tease, Thump).   It’s creepy, yet sexy thanks to stars Izabella Miko (Coyote Ugly, Clash of the Titans) and Austin Nichols (One Tree Hill, Friday Night Lights). Beth Grant (Delta, Speed, Rock Star, Donnie Darko) as the scene stealing Nurse Thatcher also adds to the suggestion, eerie styles, and gothic feel. It’s modern and updated, yet old school and in the spirit of Poe.  Now it’s on to the fancy 3D adaptation!

Tales from the Crypt (1972) – This precursor to the anthology series has five star-studded vignettes, including a disturbing Christmas scene with Joan Collins (Dynasty) and Ian Hendry (The Avengers) in a dangerous adulterous getaway.  Peter Cushing (Star Wars, The Horror of Dracula), creepy crypt keeper Ralph Richardson (Time Bandits), Robin Hood Richard Greene, and Patrick Macgee (A Clockwork Orange) delight as well. Unlike today’s effects over-fest, director and Oscar winner Freddie Francis (Glory, The Elephant Man) keeps things largely silent, letting the creepy catacombs and twisted tales build up and progress on their mystery, suggestion, and scares. Yes there are a few jump worthy moments, and the dated seventies style only adds to the spooky atmosphere.  Perhaps there’s not a lot of rewatch value, but stick this one in amid your favorite Halloween anthology series for some old school scares. 

The Uninvited (1944) – Future Oscar winner Ray Milland (The Lost Weekend) and Nominee Ruth Hussey (The Philadelphia Story) delight in this quintessential black and white spookfest from director Lewis Allen (Bonanza, The Unseen).  Somehow, I feel this one is now unloved by the modern audience-especially in light of the also named but unrelated 2009 The Uninvited, itself a remake of a 2003 Asian horror flick.  No confusion here, however, thanks to the Oscar nominated cinematography.  The positive and negative use of candles, scary moaning, groaning sounds-the simple smoke and mirrors of early film production does wonders.  In addition to all the mood, atmosphere, and suspense, the young and tragic Gail Russell (Angel and the Badman) is as charming as Cornelia Otis Skinner (The Girl in the Red Velvet Swing) is creepy and subliminally kinky. Without thinking, I erased this one from my DVR; and since it’s not available on DVD, I’ve been kicking myself since. 

Wolf – Though this 1994 lycan tale from Oscar winning director Mike Nichols (The Graduate, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Silkwood) is imperfect with its fair share of plot holes and unanswered questions, I like it.  Face it; this is the best, if not the only, mature wolf movie around.  Thanks to the sarcastic and witty performances by Jack Nicholson (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Chinatown, The Shining) and the rest of the all-star cast, Wolf smartly doesn’t take itself too seriously.  The beguiling Michelle Pfeiffer (Scarface, The Fabulous Baker Boys), a wonderfully disturbing James Spader (sex, lives, and videotape, Boston Legal), the charming Christopher Plummer (The Sound of Music, The Moneychangers), and plenty more on form supporting players are allowed to have their fun.  These are all great, big names one wouldn’t usually see in any old horror movie, either.  There’s even a good bit of scares and kinky violence here-especially on an initial viewing.  Some of the effects are hokey now, but others are very well done with fine spooky build-ups.  Despite plotting faults and a little confusion, there’s more good than bad in Wolf.  Multiple viewings are even in order to catch all of the subliminal suggestions.

Split

The Amityville Horror (1979) – The horror, scares, and fright fest from director Stuart Rosenberg (Cool Hand Luke) are all still there, and I love it.  Even the old looks and seventies styles aren’t so dated, just more nostalgic and period now.  However, it seems like out of all the other numerous sequels and direct to video drivel that follows, this original starring the fine Margot Kidder (Superman) and eerily on form James Brolin (Westworld) is too close to the real life circumstances that started the franchise.  Was this independent blockbuster made purely to capitalize on the scandalous book that was in turn highlighting the sketchy true story that started it all? Separate the supposed paranormal facts or hoax talk from the behind the scenes, and then you can enjoy this fine demonic haunted house in all its glory.  Likewise, we favorably reviewed the 2005 remake.  Again, take away the talk of Indian burial grounds and just scare us silly and we’re a okay. 

Haunted – Aidan Quinn (Legends of the Fall) and Kate Beckinsale (Underworld) shine in director Lewis Gilbert’s (The Spy Who Loved Me) great English locales and post World War I period piece decoration and styles.  There are plenty of fine but disturbing performances from Anthony Andrews (The Scarlet Pimpernel) and Sir John Gieland (Becket), too. Haunted has its share of creepy and kinky- both good and bad by design, nasty stuff.  Beckinsale fans will love to hate spotting her nude body double, too.  There are even a few genuine spooks and scares and though obvious throughout, the film is entertaining for the most part.  However, there simply aren’t enough scares for what’s supposed to be a good old haunted house ghost story.  There’s no mood and things are not as atmospheric as they should be.  Despite the lovely cast and wonderful locations, it’s as though we’ve seen this all before- namely in The Others.

Rogue -   This 2007 crocodile thriller has a great premise and fine acting from Radha Mitchell (Pitch Black) and Michael Vartan (Alias). Sam Worthington (Avatar) fans (of which I am not) will enjoy seeing his jerky performance, too. Writer and director Greg McLean (Wolf Creek) adds a tight, contained, ticking clock to the lush, exotic, and foreign cinematography.  The audience is hooked as things turn dark and dangerous- the issues among the stranded and perilous ship‘s crew build as our crocodile gets his chance in the spotlight. Its man against himself, man against nature, and man against man all in one- the tide is rising and time is running out!  And then….well, the silly and stupefied ending here kind of undoes all the goodness.  The viewer is asked to suspend belief one too many times for too preposterous an outcome.  Is the overall goodness worth the ill-conceived conclusion or does the finale undo all?

Skip

The Descent – Okay, so I don’t really know who the girls in this 2005 spelunking adventure are- but they are not the problem.  A stereotypical yet somehow refreshing group, yes, but the individualism and back-stories are acceptable enough. I suspect there’s plenty of ogle and subtext value for interested audiences, too.  The caves are also creepy and this is a dangerous sport after all- so why did director Neil Marshall (Dog Soldiers) have to resort to glowing cave mutants?  There’s enough internal strife and issues to mix in with the peril of falling rocks, being trapped or injured, and all that unknown caving.  Let our gals go bad and have their own hysteria do them in; we could still have a serious horror movie without rock people. Most of this film gets it right, but the deus ex machina of the creepy crawlies and open ending for the sequel tire the positive strides.   

Hide and Seek - Even Robert DeNiro (Casino) and Dakota Fanning’s (Man on Fire) battle of wits can’t save this familial thriller. Toss in Famke Janssen (X-Men) and Elisabeth Shue (Leaving Las Vegas) and we’ve still got the same old, same old suggestive psychological thriller. It’s tragic wasting such a fine cast on this supposedly scary evil imaginary friend but there’s a twist yadda yadda story. They couldn’t even decide on an ending here- there are count ‘em five on the DVD!

The Masque of The Red Death and The Premature Burial

The Masque of The Red Death and The Premature Burial Make for a Spooky, Smart Double Feature

By Kristin Battestella

In my never-ending search for quality horror, I often turn to the classics. I was pleased to find that two of my favorites The Masque of Red Death and The Premature Burial were available on one DVD. Corman, Poe, Price- Horror Heaven!

Ruthless and satanic Prince Prospero (Price) takes crops from the local villages and burns those carrying the dreaded Red Death plague. He abducts the lovely, devout peasant girl Francesca (Jane Asher) and takes her back to his castle. Other nobles are also gathering at the castle under Prospero’s offer to wait out the Red Death with evenings of pleasure, masquerades, and debauchery. Part of his entertainment includes the diminutive Hop Toad (Skip Martin, Circus of Fear) and his little ballerina Esmeralda (Verina Greenlaw, The Six Wives of Henry VIII), but Prospero’s satanic mistress Juliana (Hazel Court) has no time for dances or Francesca-as she is preparing to become a bride of Satan. These demonic delights are all going to Prospero’s plans-until the Red Death incarnate crashes his decadent party.

As you can tell, I’ve seen my share of spooky flicks and Price pictures. Perhaps not as well known today, The Masque of The Red Death is my favorite of the Poe series from director Roger Corman. This 1964 treat has all the big budget looks one could ask for. It’s gothic, dark, demonic-yet the candle light, colors, and castle sets are a real treat. The costumes look perfectly medieval-the men as well as the ladies. I could say The Masque of The Red Death is a costumed, epic spectacle if not for the macabre subject matter.

Charles Beaumont (The Twilight Zone) and R. Wright Campbell (Man of a Thousand Faces) skillfully weave Poe’s tale of disease, death, and comeuppance with a touch from his lesser know ‘Hop-Frog’ tale and create a charming and yet dreadfully spooky movie. Poe is well known for his obsessions with death and burial, but the core of The Masque of The Red Death is unique. These prideful and gluttonous subjects fear death, sure-but that doesn’t stop their cruel and deceitful, devilish ways. Religion is only touched upon briefly, but the iconic notion of Death itself entering among the naughty and taking its tally strikes the audience on multiple levels. Do we really see Death when we are so close to it? Do we all walk such a finite yet intimate line with disease and punishment? Visually desensitizing, slash and sex and gore, modern horror can’t compare with Corman’s visual interpretations of Poe.

I know Vincent Price has a reputation for being over the top-as in The Pit and the Pendulum for example; but he’s relatively suave and subdued here. We’ve seen him in many periods and styles, but the outlandish hats, plumes, and color still look good on Price. He doesn’t seem out of place amid demonic castles and masked parties. We believe his Prospero is kinky, vicious, and deadly-but we’re awed when Death comes along and steals the show. Perhaps Price has more famous roles; but for my money, he is his best here. Likewise, Vincent’s vixens look devilishly good. Horror queen Hazel Court (The Curse of Frankenstein) shows her bosom and her satanic ways with a bizarre mix of charm and grace. We shouldn’t like the dark lady doing nasty rituals and marrying the devil, but Court’s beauty and ethereal style are delightful. Not to be outdone, angelic ex-Paul McCartney flame Jane Asher (Alfie, Crossroads) rivals Court with her white gowns and youthful devotion. We want her to keep her innocent naiveté, but we also don’t expect her righteousness to win out.

The Masque of The Red Death is a rarity in horror pictures because it achieves serious social commentary about the corrupt aristocracy, death, and how the evil get their due- all this along with plenty of scares and onscreen mayhem. Some might be offend by the devilish imagery, but horror fans and classic enthusiasts need to love this macabre, yet idealistic picture. Of course, 1962’s The Premature Burial is by no means merely the back end of a double bill. Technicalities at American International Pictures unfortunately leave us without our regular Poe man Vincent Price, and I think The Premature Burial is a little unloved because of this. However, Charles Beaumont and Ray Russell (The Man with the X-Ray Eyes) again craft an intellectual analysis from Poe’s tale of death and fear.

Guy Carrell (Ray Milland) fears his family history of catalepsy and builds a complex and technological tomb to prevent himself from being buried alive. His wife Emily (Hazel Court) and sister Kate (Heather Angel, Suspicion) disagree in how to support Guy’s fears, yet stop his building obsessions. Guy turns away from his involved tomb so Emily won’t leave him, but death and family history soon catch up to him.

More than a fine, if surprising, substitute, Oscar winner Ray Milland (The Lost Weekend, Markham, It Happens Every Spring) is delightful as the intelligent Victorian gentleman who becomes obsessed with being buried alive. His extreme, exhaustive precautions are understandable, logical, and well thought out; but somehow, we still know this is all askew, maniacal, and preposterous. Milland is quieter than Price, never quite boiling over as we expect him to. In away, his buttoned performance is bound, trapped inside the coffin Guy so desperately fears.

Once again, Hazel Court is lovely and charming as Guy’s ambiguous wife Emily. We believe she cares for Guy’s state of mind-and yet she’s too lovely and youthful to put up with his deadly ideas, isn’t she? The Premature Burial gives us more exceptional dresses-but this time we are bespectacled with hefty hoop skirts and Victorian delicacies. Though somehow desaturated and less colorful then Masque (I initially was a twit and thought it was black and white!), Corman gives us a fine production of mood and atmosphere. We don’t often see such proper costumes in a low-end horror picture, but all the creepy graveyards, fog, smoke, and mirrors make their presence known, too.

The Premature Burial is again a picture that might not be fore everyone. It’s slow, deliberate examination of death might be frustrating and too close to home for some. Even though we’re beyond the days of rampant plagues erroneously burying people alive and Victorian occultists trying to cheat death, this is still an understandable, real fear not so far removed from society’s psyche. Both The Masque of the Red Death and The Premature Burial serve up a fine cast, intelligent scripting, period piece atmospheres, and plenty of spooks. These flicks have plenty of old time scares, but nothing majorly offensive- unlike today’s sex and slash flicks.

The dual DVD of The Masque of the Red Death and The Premature Burial is affordable enough, but again a little old and a pain to flip. Thankfully, we’re treated to a few nice conversations with Roger Corman chatting about this pair of Poe pictures. Horror enthusiasts and classic film fans should adore these two complex, scary tales each and every October.