Review: Tales from the Crypt (1972)

Directed by: Freddie Francis
Starring: Joan Collins, Peter Cushing, Roy Dotrice
Written by: Milton Subotsky
Music by: Douglas Gamley
Country: United Kingdom
Available on: Blu-ray/DVD (Scream Factory)
IMDb

Amicus Productions co-founder Milton Subotsky loved himself some EC Comics, so he convinced his co-producer Max Rosenberg to purchase the rights to stories from Tales from the Crypt, The Vault of Horror, and The Haunt of Fear, in the process helping cement Max and William Gaines’ place in pop culture history. Interestingly, though, only a couple of the segments from Amicus’ 1972 anthology Tales from the Crypt are actually from the comic of the same name. This, Amicus’ fourth foray into portmanteau horror, with a screenplay from Subotsky himself, is probably best-known for the story, “… And All Through the House,” in which a woman (Joan Collins) murders her husband on Christmas Eve then finds herself stalked by a deranged killer in a Santa suit. Though that segment is perfectly dandy, this anthology has a lot more juiciness to offer. The sun around which this planet of spookiness orbits is Peter Cushing as the amiable Arthur Grimsdyke, entertainer of children, carer of local strays, and recent widower, who becomes the victim of a devious smear campaign that leads to his suicide, after which he returns to exact vengeance from beyond his grave. But really, there’s not a weak segment in the bunch, which also includes a man who abandons his family for an extramarital lover, only to die in a car accident on their way to elope and return as a hideous zombie that his lover wants nothing to do with; a retelling of the familiar “Monkey’s Paw” theme that features some shockingly explicit gore for the time; and the story of a cruel director of a home for the blind (Nigel Patrick) whose comeuppance includes navigating his way in the dark through a maze with walls lined in razor blades, chased by his starved German shepherd. The wraparound is perfunctory, but not exceptional, as the needle threading together this macabre blanket. This is an anthology driven more by its stellar acting and barbed storytelling than artful direction or engulfing atmosphere (unlike, say, Asylum, also from 1972). But as someone who grew up on a ravenous diet of stealthy late-night binges of the HBO version of Tales from the Crypt, and who loved Creepshow and Creepshow 2, I’m perfectly content with twisted twists propelled by great performances. However, for a long time, that same childhood adoration of the HBO incarnation prevented me giving the old, dusty Amicus version its due accolades, which are considerable. This film is a sort of double-edged: I’m happy to be old enough now to appreciate it more fully than I might have at age 10, but it so keenly stirs memories of my childhood through its lurid yet playful vibes that I wish I had nothing to worry about but scavenging for popcorn and a Coke, then waiting for my parents to fall asleep so I could scare myself awake until school the next morning, where I could ignore my teachers while I doodled the flesh-feasting undead in my composition book.

Overall rating: 8.5 out of 10