Review: From Beyond the Grave (1974)
Directed by: Kevin Connor
Starring: Peter Cushing, Donald Pleasence, Ian Bannen
Written by: Raymond Christodoulou, Robin Clarke
Music by: Douglas Gamley
Country: United Kingdom
Available on: Blu-ray/DVD (Warner Archives)
IMDb
From Beyond the Grave is the last in a series of anthologies made by Amicus Productions during the ‘60s and ‘70s. Over that time, they learned a thing or two about production value, because this is easily the best-looking of the lot. Kevin Connor, making his directorial debut, and cinematography Alan Hume know how to shoot this damn thing, with vivid colors, spooky swirling fogs, ominous angles, and all.
This anthology, with a plot Stephen King consciously or subconsciously lifted for his novel Needful Things, concerns a shop run by Peter Cushing that caters to the morally compromised, offering them things they desire — for a dear price. Each of the four segments is represented by one of the store’s patrons, who try in some form or another to swindle the shopkeep and meet a terrible end as a result. From Beyond the Grave looks and sounds, thanks to Douglas Gamley’s chilling score, like a classy, old-fashioned horror yarn. It’s got a great cast that includes Cushing, Donald and Angela Pleasence (real-life dad and daughter; she’s an odd duck with all the wild-eyed craziness of her pops), David Warner, and Ian Bannen. But where the film stumbles, pretty significantly, is in its storytelling. There’s a unfortunate confluence of weak stories (adapted from short stories by Ronald Chetwynd-Hayes), languid pacing, and awkward tonal shifts that tarnishes some of the wonderful outer sheen.
The segments include a man who sees a ghost in an antique mirror that beckons him to kill; a man with an unhappy home life who steals valor to befriend a retired soldier and ends up falling in love with his daughter, who has strange, deadly powers; a businessman taunted by an invisible demon; and a couple who purchase an ornate door that opens to a ghostly dimension. There are noticeable imbalances: three of the stories are very serious and one is almost broadly zany, and three of the four run too long, while the last story — the best — is hurried through. None of them have the necessary punch at the end, though the final story (“The Door”) does have a gorgeously gothic final sequence. This film could have used a lot more ghouls and ghosts; most of the bad guys in the stories are old fancy dudes from times of yore, which … isn’t that scary.
Connor’s inexperience running a film production ultimately kneecaps the end product, and FBTG is nowhere near my favorite Amicus anthology. But it remains pretty watchable, with moments of aesthetic greatness and atmosphere that propels you through some of the mire.
Overall rating: 6.5 out of 10
