Tales of Terror (1962)

*. Wherein Vincent Price really finds a home with American International and, more than anything else, with Poe. Because he looks like he belongs in the nineteenth century, and that creepy voice . . .
*. Price is fine here, but I think most of the credit actually should go to Roger Corman. You can argue over whether he was a great director, or could have been a great director had he chosen to go a less commercial route. But the fact is he was always a good director. He wasn’t averse to trying different things and adding a few notes of style, and while these weren’t always successful there’s rarely anything in one of his movies that doesn’t work. He knew how to put a movie together.
*. As examples here I’d note little things like the slight zoom into Peter Lorre’s Montresor as he spies on his wife making love (in the old-fashioned sense) with Fortunato, or the composition of the death-bed formation in the final story, going from a theatrical presentation to a shot through the headboard of the bed.

 *. I also like how the stories are arranged. You usually want to begin and end these omnibus films with your strongest material, but in this case, with only three stories (P.O.E.: Poetry of Eerie would give us 13!) that rule of thumb doesn’t hold. Instead Corman places the strongest, and longest, story in the middle. This is where it belongs because it also has a different tone from the other two stories, being the only one with a clear comic bent.
*. So all-in-all, a solid job of direction by Corman. The only place where I had to cringe a bit was with the shots of M. Valdemar approaching Basil Rathbone appearing totally out of focus. I take it this was to disguise some really lousy make-up effects of the rotting face, which would have made showing the face a loser no matter how Corman chose to do it. Still, I think he should have trusted with whatever effects he had. It would have been better than just blurring the shot.
*. Holy May/December! I thought for sure that Joyce Jameson was playing Peter Lorre’s daughter, not his wife (she was 27 years younger). Ditto for Debra Paget and Vincent Price (she was 22 years younger). Then in the first story, “Morella,” the dead wife literally replaces the daughter. Is this a problem? It’s not unfaithful to Poe, who married his own child bride.
*. I wonder if it’s possible for spider webs to cover as much interior as we see them on in the first story. The dining table looks like it came from Miss Havisham’s house in Great Expectations. I have some experience with cobwebs, having lived for a long time in an old house that I never cleaned. And, well, I think there are limits to how much webbing you can have.
*. Most accounts of the horror-anthology genre refer back to Dead of Night (1945), which is a great movie but is in many ways atypical. What I mainly mean here is the extent to which it foregrounds the frame narrative that introduces the different stories. That was never done as well, and in many later efforts it was almost entirely disposed of. Here we get Price doing a bit of voiceover and some animation, but there’s no attempt made at providing a framing story. In retrospect, that seems to have been more of a British thing, though it was revived by the V/H/S franchise.
*. It’s a good script by Richard Matheson, interpreting the sources with intelligence and economy. Sure it’s a very free-spirited mangling of Poe. But the cross-hatching of “A Cask of Amontillado” with “The Black Cat” makes sense and is done well. And why not? I’m not one of those people who believe that classic texts have to be religiously adhered to. If the changes work, then filmmakers should feel free to interpret and re-interpret. I might not like what Altman did to Raymond Carver in Short Cuts, but it was an Altman movie. This is an AIP production. It isn’t Poe.
*. I’ve always wondered about the exchange in “The Cask of Amontillado” where Fortunato cries out “For the love of God, Montresor!” and Montresor answers “Yes, for the love of God!” What does this mean? Is it just madness? In the film version, when the police discover the walled-up bodies it’s due to the howling of the entombed cat, which leads one of the cops to say “What in the name of God . . . ?” I wonder if the echo was intentional, and if Matheson was puzzling over the original exchange as well.
*. At the time it was easy to sniff at fare like this. The New York Times review, for example: “a dull, absurd and trashy adaptation of three Edgar Allan Poe stories, broadly draped around the shoulders of such people as Vincent Price, Peter Lorre and Basil Rathbone (who at least bothers to act). Skip it, if possible.” This isn’t even strictly accurate, because it’s actually an adaptation of four stories condensed into three. But while it’s clearly a Corman quickie, I found it to be a good-looking production where everyone seems to have done their part. Price, Corman, and Matheson were nothing if not professionals. Quite a lot of success in art as well as life consists in just doing your job.

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