Amicus Films and Tales from the Crypt
In
the 1950s, Horror-loving American kids, kids who were weaned on the Realart
re-releases of the classic Universal Monster movies, and who came of age with
invading aliens and giant bugs, found a new source to feed their growing hunger
for thrills, chills, and terrors, courtesy of a man named William M. Gaines.
Gaines, who had succeeded his father Max as publisher of EC Comics in 1947, when
the latter was killed in a motorboat accident, began what would be referred to
as EC’s “New Trend” in comic books in 1950, with the publication of The Crypt
of Terror, which would undergo a name change after three issues, becoming
Tales from the Crypt. It would quickly be followed by The Vault of
Horror, The Haunt of Fear, Weird Fantasy, Weird Science, and a host of
other, similarly-titled, comic books.
The New Trend that Gaines launched in 1950 wasn’t just introducing new comic books with lurid titles; it was a complete reinvention of the comic book form. The art was unlike anything that had been done before—vampires, witches, and ghouls had a ghastly, greenish pallor, zombies had gray, rotting flesh falling from their bones, blood was a dark red, almost black color, and the women were either voluptuous pin-ups, or hags and crones, with very little middle ground. But it was the stories that truly made the New Trend stand out. Far from being the typical comic book stories that had come before, these were more mature stories, and not just in terms of their prurient nature. The writers used the pages of the comic books to explore such adult themes as racism and segregation; sex; and drug use. Those social commentaries were so skillfully woven into the gruesome, shocking background of these stories that the readers seldom realized they were there.
Though EC’s New Trend lasted just a brief four years, its impact on American culture was profound, and when Amicus producers Max Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky were casting about for ideas for a new portmanteau film they seized on the old EC Comics. They did this with the approval of Gaines and EC artist Al Feldstein, who lent their names to the first of three planned EC-based anthology films. That first film was 1972’s Tales from the Crypt.
The screenplay was written by Subotsky, who adapted five stories from the EC Horror books. Freddie Francis was tapped to direct, and was given a remarkably good cast with which to work. Headlining that cast was Sir Ralph Richardson, as the Crypt Keeper. Richardson, a noted Shakespearean actor, lends the film an air of gravitas and solemnity befitting the stories contained within, and he’s well supported by Peter Cushing, Joan Collins, Ian Hendry, Richard Greene, Roy Dotrice, and Nigel Patrick.
While touring ancient catacombs, five people become separated from their group, finding themselves in a sealed chamber with an old man dressed in a monk’s robes. He instructs them to be seated, proceeding to reveal to each, in turn, their possible fate. In the first tale, …And All Through the House, a young woman murders her husband on Christmas Eve, only to be surprised by an unexpected visitor. In Reflection of Death, a man (Ian Hendry) is in the midst of running off with his mistress, when they’re involved in an automobile accident. He awakens beside the wrecked car, and staggers home, only to find his wife there with another man. He flees, finding himself in front of the apartment building where his mistress lives. However, when he makes his way to her flat, he discovers that things have changed somewhat since the accident.
The third story, Poetic Justice, features what might be Peter Cushing’s best, and certainly his most sympathetic, performance, as Arthur Grimsdyke, a rubbish collector who is disliked by his neighbors, the Elliotts. A father and son, they resent his presence in their neighborhood; they feel he’s beneath their station. Grimsdyke, a lonely old man since his wife’s passing, has but two joys in life: fixing up toys he finds for the children of the neighborhood; and his dogs. The younger Elliott, James (Robin Phillips), sets about the take away everything that gives the old man’s life meaning, in hopes of forcing him to move. He succeeds, only not in the way he expected. And his success will have dire consequences. Then we have Wish You Were Here, a variation on the W. W. Jacobs short story “The Monkey’s Paw.” A failed businessman and his wife (Richard Greene and Barbara Murray) learn a few lessons about making wishes, and about how carefully one must parse their words when doing so.
The final tale is Blind Alleys, in which the new director of a Men’s home for the blind, Maj. William Rogers (Nigel Patrick), late of Her Majesty’s Army, has begun running the facility as though it were a military command. He halves the meals, shuts off the heat, and even refuses to provide the residents with blankets, while he and his pet German Shepherd feast in comfort. When one of the men dies due to his neglect, however, he learns a frightful lesson, that even the blind can take their vengeance.
By this point, Amicus had firmly established its reputation as the foremost producer of Horror anthologies, though that was a fairly narrow niche. When author Chris Knight asked Subotsky about his fondness for the portmanteau format in a 1973 interview, Subotsky replied,
"So you don’t bore an audience. It’s very hard to find a story that can sustain interest for ninety minutes. In the segment films you can tell four or five stories, and each story only runs the length of time that it should—its natural length. You can make a very fast moving variety show of different kinds of horror stories and audiences seem to like it. I like it."
Audiences certainly liked Tales from the Crypt. Produced on an unusually large budget for Amicus (the extra funding came from AIP) of £170,000, the movie earned at least $3 million in the US. Critics were generally approving, with Roger Ebert citing his childhood love of EC Comics, and Dan Scapperotti, writing for Cinefantastique magazine, called the movie Amicus, “… finest anthology ever.”
That is undisputed. Tales from the Crypt is easily the most memorable of the company’s productions, and has become entrenched in popular culture. Among the many noteworthy highlights is the superb performance from Peter Cushing. Filmed just months after the death of his beloved Helen, Cushing portrayed the grieving, heartbroken, lonely old man to perfection—for that’s what he was. Grimsdyke mentions his wife’s name was Helen, just as was Cushing’s. In fact, Cushing was originally cast in the role of the businessman in Wish You Were Here, a role that, frankly, didn’t appeal to him at all. However, the role of Grimsdyke, originally a tiny, non-speaking part, appealed to the man still mourning his late wife. He sent word to Subotsky asking if he could instead take on that role. Subotsky replied in the affirmative, and immediately rewrote the segment, fleshing out the Grimsdyke character.
This was the high-water mark for Amicus Productions, and became entrenched in popular culture through the long-running, highly popular HBO series. But like all such milestones, it left no other direction to go but down. Though their films continued to perform well, the collapsing British film industry was an inexorable tide, and if Hammer’s House of Horrors was unable to stem the tide, little Amicus had no hope of doing so. Their last release, 1977’s The People that Time Forgot, effectively marked the end of the Golden Age of British Horror.
I invite you to explore the Unimonster's other Crypt, which you'll find HERE!
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