Director: Freddie Francis
Stars: Ralph Richardson, Joan Collins, Peter Cushing
Snack Report: Utz Cheese Balls
Viewing Companions: Zelda and Mr. Falbeaux
I rediscovered this childhood favorite of mine while browsing through YouTube videos, and I thought it might be fun to revisit it for tonight’s Fright Night film.
For a few years back in the 1950s, horror comics were huge. EC Comics was the pioneer of the genre, published by Bill Gaines (founder of MAD Magazine). Gaines launched a series of “New Trend” titles – dark and twisted tales of horror, science fiction, and crime, which alarmed adults and excited impressionable youths.
And as you might expect from the founder of MAD Magazine, a trademark of EC Comics was the mingling of graphic horror with humor of the darkest black variety.
It was actually kind of shocking what they were able to get away with. Some of the scenarios in the comics were extremely graphic and disturbing, yet teens and pre-teens consumed it passionately. Eventually, the government decided this menace had to be stopped. Censorship prevailed, and the vicarious thrills of horror comics were no more.
Which brings us to tonight’s movie…
Tales of the Crypt is an anthology film from Amicus Productions (a competitor of Hammer Films) based on those horror comics of the 1950s. Amicus was known for its horror anthologies, a genre that was all the rage back in the 60s and early 70s. Tales from the Crypt stands out from the crowd, however, because of its fine cast and skillful direction by Academy Award-winning cinematographer Freddie Francis.
While touring the ancient catacombs under a medieval cathedral, five people become separated from the tour group and are lost underground. You know nothing good can come of it because Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor is playing over the opening credits.
Before long, they find themselves trapped in a chamber and confronted by a scary monk – the Crypt Keeper (Sir Ralph Richardson) – who entertains them with the stories of how they will die.
First up is a Real Housewife of Great Britain (a terribly young Joan Collins), celebrating Christmas Eve by festively whacking her husband with a fireplace poker. Her plan is to throw his corpse down the basement stairs, make it look like an accident, and collect the insurance settlement.
But wait a minute –it looks like she picked a bad time to murder her husband, because a psycho killer dressed as Santa is lurking outside her house. Can she set up a convincing death scene, clean up the evidence, and call the police before Old St Nick gets in and wraps his hands around her neck?
Next, devoted husband and father Carl (Ian Hendry) kisses his family goodbye… before stopping by to pick up his young mistress and run off with her. Their plans are disrupted by a car accident, after which Carl seems to have trouble getting anyone to talk to him. They take one look at him and run away screaming… I wonder why?
In the third segment, Mr. Grimsdyke (Peter Cushing as the good guy, for a change!), a kindly old widower, may be poor and alone, but he’s sitting on a real-estate gold mine. His evil developer neighbor torments him, humiliates him, and finally sends him poison-pen Valentines in an effort to drive him out. It works a little too well… the poor old guy commits suicide. But then a year later, Mr. Grimsdyke returns to hand-deliver a very special Valentine of his own!
Tale Number 4 is yet another version of the classic story of The Monkey’s Paw – the moral of which is to be careful what you wish for. When a woman wishes on a magical object to solve her financial problems, the fatal cascade of events begins. You know the story… but there’s a nasty twist at the end.
Finally, in one of the best segments, Nigel Patrick excels as a cruel, greedy military man who takes over a rest home for elderly blind men. He starves them and freezes them to save pennies to spend on his own comforts, and when they protest, he threatens them with his vicious dog. But one day he goes too far, and the men (led by the intense Patrick Magee) exact a fitting and terrifying revenge.
Sir Ralph turns in a dignified yet hammy performance as the spooky monk from HR who is there to take these doomed souls through their orientation… INTO HELL! You might expect to feel some sympathy for them, but because the stories emphasize the immorality of their actions and their lack of repentance, I personally didn’t feel sorry for any of them. And that, I suppose, is the point.
Tales from the Crypt delivers plenty of shocks and a decent amount of gore for the early 70s. It’s definitely pretty tame by today’s standards, but if you don’t get a chill from at least one of these stories, you don’t have a spine!
A decade later, Stephen King and George Romero considered collaborating on a remake, but they went in a slightly different direction, leaned more heavily on the comic-book aspect, and called it Creepshow (1982).
Finally, HBO made a long-running TV series (1989-1996) based on the film. Of course, production values were higher, but in my opinion, few of the stories matched the impact of the original film. And instead of Sir Ralph, the Crypt Keeper is just a mummified moldy-looking puppet who can’t stop cracking bad jokes. Sometimes the oldies are the besties.