Tales of Terror
Day 14 of my 31 Days of Horror viewing
For the last few years, I have used October to give myself a viewing assignment: a different horror film each day. Now that I have escaped the real life horror of New Zealand’s public service, I intend to write a piece inspired by each film.
My fourteenth film is Roger Corman’s Tales of Terror (1962).
In my first two pieces about Roger Corman’s Edgar Allan Poe adaptations, I wrote about the changes that need to be made in order to adapt the self-contained source material into feature-length films. For Tales of Terror, screenwriter Richard Matheson made the pragmatic decision to do an anthology instead. In theory, I think this is probably the most faithful way to do Poe’s work justice.
The three tales are: Morella, The Black Cat (which also incorporates elements from Poe’s The Cask of Amontillado) and The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.
The first tale is effective, if relatively slight. The use of sets recycled from other films in the series is egregious good on Corman for being economical. It follows a woman (Maggie Pierce) who returns to visit her estranged father (Vincent Price). Things become horrific once it becomes clear the extent to which the father blames the daughter for the death of her mother Morella.
The second is the strongest, introducing the comedic pairing of Price with Peter Lorre that they would reprise in The Raven. Lorre seems to delight in playing sloppy degenerates in his later career and his performance here leans ino this completely. As a snobbish sommelier, Price is also playing to his strengths. Onscreen, each is the other’s perfect foil: a short fat guy and a tall skinny guy like a gothic Ernie and Bert. They are so enjoyable to watch that one can forgive Corman’s decision to end every scene with a corny freeze-frame and zoom.
The third part introduces Basil Rathbone to Corman’s impressive stable of character actors. He plays Mr. Carmichael, a hypnotist who uses mesmerism on the terminally ill Valdemar (Price) at the moment of his death.
Anthologies are reasonably common in horror cinema but they still have a reputation for unevenness. Although there is one tale here that I found more effective than the others, none of them are truly terrible. However, while the shorter format may be most appropriate for stories that centre around a single concept or set-piece, it does work against the flamboyance of Corman’s style. It’s a shame that only one chapter truly let its actors cook.
