Review: Dead & Buried (1981)

Directed by: Gary Sherman
Starring: James Farentino, Melody Anderson, Jack Albertson
Written by: Ronald Shusett
Music by: Joe Renzetti
Country: United States
Available on: 4K/Blu-ray/DVD (Blue Underground)
IMDb

Director Gary Sherman is probably best-known in the horror genre for directing the generally shat upon but now somewhat critically re-evaluated Poltergeist III (aka, the one in the high rise without Carol Anne’s stoner parents, aka the one Heather O’Rourke died right after filming). I’ve always liked that flick, and it’s got more creepy morsels in it than you probably remember. Give it another go, if you haven’t seen it in a while. Anyway, before he waded into those controversial waters, he made Dead & Buried, a very EC Comics-inspired mad scientist yarn that’s got enough eeriness for a hundred films.

This takes place in Potters Bluff, a quaintly spooky seaside town yoinked right out of Stephen King’s wettest dreams, in which Sheriff Dan Gillis (James Farentino) is investigating the swiftly mounting pile of murdered and mostly terribly mutilated out-of-towners, with the assistance of eccentric coroner and mortician Dobbs (Jack Albertson). It’s odd, though, when some of the previously thought dead folks start reappearing as if they were longtime residents of Potters Bluff. That’s about all that can be divulged plot-wise before things start getting spoiled. Let’s just say ol’ Grandpa Joe is much more enterprising here than he was before bribes of chocolate and Fizzy Lifting Drinks got him off his lazy ass.

Where Dead & Buried shines — though I use that term loosely because this is a murky, dreary dirge of a horror film — is in its conjuring of briney, sea-sprayed atmosphere that evokes the best endeavors of H.P. Lovecraft and stands with Messiah of Evil, Humanoids from the Deep, and Dark Waters as prime beach-set treks into terror. It’s one of those gorgeously designed films, permeated by the smell the saltwater wafting and the whine of damp winds tingling your spine. Vivid colors have been mostly stripped from the movie’s palette, leaving a miasma of blues and grays that at times makes this a nebulous watch but heightens its esoteric dread. Joe Renzetti’s menacing but morose music works magic without desperately calling attention to itself, and Stan Winston’s gore and makeup effects, though sparse, are masterful.

This isn’t an especially artful or weighty horror film, but it’s so well-made and so lovingly dedicated to its inspirations from a bygone era of the genre that it transcends its modest B-movie aim. The screenplay hides its mysteries skillfully without miring itself in repetition or overexerting to keep the audience in the dark. Once its twists are unfurled, they’re pleasantly shocking and satisfying. Some of what’s revealed doesn’t hold up to post hoc scrutiny, but it none of that detracts from the absolute enjoyment Dead & Buried provides as it leads to its unveilings.

Overall rating: 9 out of 10