By
Hank Reineke
Choosing my favorite Vincent Price film is, to put it
mildly, no easy task. The actor’s
filmography has long been a favorite to mine through and revisit time and again;
I believe I own copies of all of the mystery, sci-fi, and horror films he would
appear in from 1939 on, along with a handful of his equally impressive non-genre
film work as well. Few true horror film
buffs would not put this elegantly sinister Missourian on or near the top of
their favorite actor’s list. If director
Douglas Hickox’s Theatre of Blood is
not my favorite Price film – and it very well might be – this glorious item of dark cinema has certainly never
dropped below the no. 5 position in my ever-shuffling ranking of Vincent Price personal
favorites… maybe even scoring no lower
than no. 3 on the chart. So anything I
write about this film should be accepted as having been reflected from this
prejudicial prism.
There’s really no point in attempting to describe the
film’s flimsy plot detail. Anybody with
any sort of interest in this sort of macabre storytelling will be well versed
with the machinations comprising Theatre
of Blood. This film has made the
rounds almost from the beginning of the advent of home video, and I imagine
anyone with any interest would have had been afforded plenty of opportunities
to enjoy this film during its original theatrical run, on television (where I
first caught it), or on tape or disc in the privacy and comfort of their own
home. This Twilight Time issue of Theatre of Blood on Blu-ray is the first
time this film has appeared in this format in the U.S. It’s also a limited edition run of a mere
3,000 copies and as it’s already been more than a year-and-a- half since first
released on Blu in the U.S., I’d get moving on securing a copy for one’s self
before it starts to go for crazy “collector’s prices†on internet auction
sites. Believe me, as someone who has foolishly
waited on other coveted titles only to miss out due to intervals of parsimony,
it most surely will.
For those of you who have not yet been blessed, Theatre of Blood tells the tale of the
grand eloquent thespian Edward Lionheart (Price), described by one pursuing
detective - in a smirking and cautious appraisal as a “vigorous†actor. Lionheart is as sincere an actor as anyone who
walked the stage. Unfortunately, his
flamboyant, overly-emotive style and obsession with appearing only in the works
of William Shakespeare have put him at odds with the post-modern expectations
of London’s self-satisfied Drama Critic Circle. He’s particularly annoyed by being passed over for the coveted Critics
Circle Award of 1970, angered that the trophy was handed to a virtual newcomer
of the London stage, a young actor who Lionheart describes deliciously as “a twitching,
mumbling boy who can barely grunt his way through an incomprehensible
performance!†Distraught over this final
insult, he tosses himself with a suicidal, swan-like high-dive into the cold, choppy
waters of the Thames. But if he’s truly
dead, why are all of his detractors in the press meeting all
sorts of amusing – but ghastly - Shakespearean fates? Some blame his doting surviving daughter
Edwina Lionheart (the ever lovely Diana Rigg) as committing these so-called revenge
murders, but others seem not so sure.
If this plotline seems familiar territory to moviegoers -
and to Vincent Price fans in particular - it’s not unreasonable. United Artists, in some manner of speaking, simply
lifted the dark, tongue-in-cheek atmosphere that made both
American-International’s The Abominable
Dr. Phibes and Dr. Phibes Rises Again
into big screen successes. If A.I.P.’s internationally
renowned organist and composer Dr. Anton Phibes takes to murderous task those members
of the medical profession he blames for his wife’s untimely demise, Edward
Lionheart similarly goes after those columnists who have effectively disrespected
his art and summarily killed off his career. If the script isn’t terribly original in its conception, it’s
nevertheless well executed. One pleasing
aspect is writer Anthony Greville-Bell’s amusing application of Dickensian
names to the film’s major players and occasional targets: in the course of the
movie we’re introduced to such characters as Peregrine Devlin, Solomon and
Maisie Psaltery, Meredith Merridew, Chloe Moon, Hector Snipe and Mrs. Sprout.
While one can’t necessarily describe the undoubtedly mad
and murderous Lionheart as a sympathetic
character, it doesn’t hurt that the company of theatre critics he loathes are a
particularly narcissistic cabal, all catty, pretentious, and full of themselves. They’re unmercifully cognizant of the power
they wield to kill off a show – or a hard-fought theatrical career - with a dismissive
review or barbed comment. Following yet
another gruesome death of a colleague, one of the more affable and reasonable
critics (Ian Hendry) concedes to an investigating policeman, “Critics are
likely to make enemies, Inspector.†That’s putting it mildly, all things considered. It must also be pointed out that back in the early
1970s London’s drama critics must have been very well paid for their wielding
of the poison pen. I’m typing this film
review for Cinema Retro in a cramped
bedroom and gazing out a forlorn window at a weary, gray streetlight. These pompous British theatre critics, in
comparison, all live in high-style luxury homes and apartments with trendy
high-ceilings and windows that overlook scenic waterways and colorful gardens. Let’s just say the GBP must have been
particularly robust against the U.S. dollar in 1973.
Of course the fact that the drama critics all unlikable
characters to one degree or another makes the avenging murders – almost all
committed in an incredibly over-the-top fashion – more palatable. While I wouldn’t say moviegoers necessarily cheer on the anti-hero motivations of
our murderer here, the self-important victims of this film do get a
devilishly-whipped up serving of what they seem to deserve. Even the gruesome murder of one of their
colleagues cannot help bring about a dismissive, snarky comment regarding the fate
of a presumed friend: “At last… a headline,
instead of a byline.â€
This U.S. issue Blu-ray of Theatre
of Blood River is part of Twilight Time’s “Limited Edition Series†of only
3,000 units. The film looks very good –
the color palette was not as bright or vibrant as one might expect, but it’s better than we’ve seen before in the
U.S. There are flashing moments of
speckling blemishes and black base scratches seen here and there but, again,
nothing unforgivable. This edition
offers the film in a 1080p HD transfer, with a 1:66:1 widescreen ratio and an English-language
1.0 DTS-HD master audio track. The audio
balance on the disc is this set’s most troubling feature – there were many
instances when I had to really push the volume register to the upper extremes
to get through a dodgy patch of dialogue. The Set Up feature of the set allows for a twenty-four chapter “Scene Selection,â€
the activation of English language subtitles. It also features an isolated score track. The set also includes the original theatrical
trailer, an MGM 90th anniversary trailer, and an optional audio
commentary with film historians David Del Valle and Nick Redman. There’s also a feature that allows you to
peruse the entirety of the Twilight Time catalog, a worthwhile investment of
your time.
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