The Masque of the Red Death 1964

While I was watching Roger Corman's excellent 1964 adaptation of The Masque of the Red Death I kept thinking of Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal.  I don't often put Corman and Bergman in the same thought bubble, but I couldn't help it here.  Corman used a lot of imagery and themes that suggest Bergman.  I was pleased as punch when I ran across an interview in "Cinefantastique" that confirms that Corman was copying Bergman, and didn't care who knew it!  Check out the whole article here.  I bring this up first not only because I think it's cool and weird, but because The Masque of the Red Death is a really interesting, good film with deep dark themes.  Much like Bergman, Corman here is not simply making a horror film, but a meditation on morality, good vs. evil, and religion.  Yeah, that Roger Corman. 

Based on Edgar Allan Poe's short story, with supplemental material taken from Poe's "Hop-Frog", The Masque of the Red Death is the story of Prince Prospero, the Satan worshipping overlord played by the always amazing Vincent Price.  Prospero discovers that the village near his castle has been afflicted by the "Red Death."  He orders the village burned and kidnaps a beautiful young peasant Francesca (Jane Asher).  He also kidnaps her Father and lover with the idea of making them fight to the death.  Prospero is just that kind of asshole.

The Prince invites his "friends" to hole up in his castle until the Red Death threat has passed.  He plans amusements for them, including a "Masked Ball."  Meanwhile, he tries to persuade the pure Francesca to embrace Satanism.  Near the end, she nearly does, but the whole thing is interrupted by the arrival of one very uninvited guest...

As with most of Corman's Poe adaptations, we don't get to the meat of the story until the very end (a subplot from the "Hop-Frog" is merely filler but still very interesting.)  Other filler includes Prospero's mistress Juliana, played by the lovely Hazel Court, who converts to Satanism and becomes the Devil's bride.  In a crazy dream sequence, she is symbolically "penetrated" by various demons.  It doesn't surprise me that this sequence was cut in England.  I mean, she is really enjoying it!  Too bad her pleasure is cut short when Prospero has her killed by a Falcon!  This movie is that kind of crazy.

Price's performance is fantastic.  I know he often goes over the top, but I don't feel like he does that here.  He is a man of conviction, even though his convictions are evil.  I almost felt sorry for him when The Red Death comes for him at the end.  His God failed him, and we see the horror of that realization in his face during his death sequence.  We never see what happens to poor Francesca, spared by Death and reunited with her lover.  She would be the definition of PTSD.

As the film ends we return to Bergman territory.  The Red Death is playing Tarot with a child that Prospero spared in a rare display of mercy.  He is joined by others, presumably plagues and horrors, and they discuss the death and destruction they have left in their wake.   "Sic transit gloria mundi" declares The Red Death.  "Thus passes the glory of the world".  I tell you, I am going to have nightmares about these Technicolor monks!

The Masque of the Red Death is hyper colorful but still Gothic and creepy.  Shot by Nicolas Roeg, who would go on to be a big shot Director himself, this is the most "beautiful" AIP picture I have ever seen.  There is a lot to discover in this film.  The things that go on at Prospero's castle are pretty dark and twisted.  We see nothing, it is all suggested and implied.  I loved it, and I am ashamed it took me so long to see it, and so long to appreciate Corman the Director. 

Bucket of Blood!

According to "Wikipedia", Roger Corman's 1959 film Bucket of Blood is a "horror/comedy."  Well, the comedy must be so subtle that it completely flew over my head.  I mean, it is funny, if only for it's portrayal of Beatnik culture.  Wait, is this the intended comedy?  Am I that dense? (Yes.)  In any case, for a film shot in 5 DAYS (really), Bucket of Blood is pretty entertaining, or "Way out" as the Beat's would say.

If Andre from The Horror Digest hasn't seen this then she really must, because this may be the holy grail of cat trauma.  Nerdy, awkward busboy Walter Paisley dreams of being an artist.  Instead, he serves coffee to the hip in this coffee shop/bar where Poets and Sax players spout total nonsense and everyone smokes.  Walter is like the Mark Zuckerberg of his day:  no social skills but a genius!  One night, Walter accidentally kills his landlady's cat with a knife, as you do.  He covers it up by covering up kitty in clay, and takes it to the coffee shop the next day.  Everyone thinks he is a genius!  "Cat with knife sticking through it" is a big hit!  Because these people are all idiots and on horse!  Horse is slang for Heroin, the only thing I really learned from this film.

Walter, played by the awesome Dick Miller, decided to murder more things in order to make more sculptures.  Given that Walter is a class A idiot, the whole thing is actually kind of innocent and endearing.  I mean, you are actually rooting for Walter because he is putting one over on these Beatnik snobs!  Everything is going so well until Walter falls in love with the house watercolor artist.  Beatnik chicks ruin everything!

Roger Corman is the Man.  No doubt.  This film is great, even if I didn't catch the humor angle.  The whole thing was funny to me, but unintentionally so.  Is Corman a genius?  Yes. Duh.

The Terror

 I love Roger Corman.  How could you not?  He gave first chances and guidance to many of our favorite filmmakers of today, including two involved with his 1963 film, The Terror.  I am talking about Jack Nicholson and Francis Ford Coppola- they were both involved in this hot mess of a movie.  Both apparently had a hand in directing the damn thing as well... we all have to start somewhere.

You have to read up on this movie: I am not going to go into the whole mess.  The short version is Corman still had the sets and costumes from another film he was making and decided to shot The Terror with the leftovers.  The Terror had no real script, no direction, no clue.  It did have Boris Karloff agreeing to take on the role of The Baron, and the young and eager Jack Nicholson to play Andre Duvalier, a French officer.  It took me about an hour to figure out he was French.  Nicholson was pulling a Costner before he was even a big shot!  I mean he wasn't even trying! 

The Terror is sort of a Gothic ghost story/thriller hybrid that doesn't make a whole lot of sense.  You can tell by watching the film that they were making it up as they went along.  The continuity errors alone are worth the price of admission.  It has great charm however.  Karloff does his best (as he always did) as the guilt ridden Baron, and Dick Miller as Stefan, his manservant, is a revelation.  Sandra Knight plays Helene, the love interest/ghost/melting face woman.  She is beautiful and amazing but I had one problem: during one scene you can see her mustache.  This sort of thing does not bother me.  Really.  But it really distracted me for the rest of the film.  Why didn't they shave it!?  I know this was filmed in 1963, but they must have had razors! 

Here is the plot best as I can tell.  Jack Nicholson was separated from his regiment.  On the beach he sees a beautiful woman who leads him to drinking water and introduces herself as Helene.  He falls in love with her instantly (as you do) and then gets very upset when she turns into a hawk that attacks him.  He finds shelter with an old witch and her mute son.  The witch owns the hawk, who is named Helene, but Nicholson doesn't believe the witch.  The mute son, who actually can talk, tells Nicholson to go the the Baron's castle and find Eric.  Because Nicholson had nothing better to do he goes to the castle.  There he meets Boris Karloff and Stefan.  They reluctantly let him stay.  While there he sees Helene again, but she is acting like a bi-polar bitch.  Nicholson confronts the Baron and he admits that Helene is Baroness Ilsa, his dead wife.  Whom he killed.  And Stefan killed Ilsa's lover: Eric.  So far so good. 

 Nicholson goes back and spies on the old witch and discovers that she had possessed the body of a young woman with Ilsa's spirit to get revenge on the Baron.  See, the witch was Eric's mother.  We don't know who Helene/Ilsa is, but we know she is the pawn of the witch.  She is trying to convince the Baron to kill himself by flooding the crypt where Ilsa is buried.  And this is where I checked out.  See, the crypt is at the bottom of the castle, and there is a special door that if opened lets the sea in.  Why would anyone do this?  What is the motivation for building something that can be flooded BY THE SEA by opening a door?  I won't spoil the ending for you (you wouldn't believe me anyway) but lets just say it makes no sense.

But if you can, by all means see The Terror.  It is cool in it's own weird little way and it is fun to see Nicholson before he was big.  Here he is basically an asshole.  I am off to buy some wax strips for my upper lip.

Guest Post: Little Shop of Horrors...

It is quite a grand occasion here at ZAM: our first guest post!  Camiele White, an awesome blogger who has written for legitimate sites such as Fascination With Fear, has volunteered her services and contributed a great post about the Corman classic, Little Shop of Horrors.

This post is actually well written and contains zero swear words. I just wanted to warn my regular readers.

Tell Your Mama Something’s Come to Get Her

On the 23rd day in the month of September, in an early year of a decade not long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced as such enemies often do in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places...

Welcome to Skid Row: where the folks are broke and your life’s a joke; where the guys are trips and they rip your slips. It’s a place of absolute destitution and a dog-eat-dog mentality that has most people droning through life as so many George A. Romero zombies. What’s most frightening is that this race of humans is packed in an institutional and economical slum that brings nothing but heartache. This is, indeed, a prime location for a plant alien invasion.

As far as musicals go, Little Shop of Horrors is one of the most incredible soundtracks to hit the modern stage and screen --although both musical and film were conceived in the early 80s. It’s also fair to say that the film opens up a new dimension that the stage, though brilliantly laid out for such a story, was limited in delivering if for nothing more than the restrictions of linear staging. What’s even more impressive than the gorgeous direction, screenplay, and music throughout the 80s film is that both stage and screen adaptations are just that --adaptations of an even earlier rendering of the alien invasion love story.

The Little Shop of Horrors was a bit of an “I dare you” experiment for director Roger Corman. Having access to left over sets, Corman decided he wanted to do the impossible --complete a movie in two days. So, with $30,000 in his pocket and a smallish cast (including the voice of Charles B. Griffith as the blood-hungry Audrey, Jr. and Jack Nicholson as the masochistic dental patient, Wilbur Force), Corman created what has become a cult classic for horror movie buffs alike. Though not necessarily a great film, it’s touted as one of the most unique of the genre considering the bizarre turn of events that play out over the 70 minutes of the film --including a repeat customer who eats the plants he buys for dinner and, of course, the now infamous carnivorous Venus Flytrap. It’s wrought with clichés and overacting; however, it made way for a horror revolution 20 years later that was sure to give the genre a much needed dose of excitement.

The 1982 musical, Little Shop of Horrors, was one of the most exciting spectacles to hit Broadway in a long time --and most certainly one of the most innovative. Filled with rock and roll, doo-wop, and Motown infused musical numbers composed by Alan Menken, the stage show was nothing short of a phenomenon --not to mention the incredible puppeteer work. What perhaps made the musical so unique is that every single character that hits the stage is eventually eaten by the bloodlusting Audrey II, leaving the audience with the impression that this “mean green mother from outer space” does, in fact, fulfil its aims to take over the planet.

And then, of course, we get to the 1986 film adaptation. Every moment from the original film’s two day production to the stage play led up to this. Directed by Frank Oz (the brilliant puppet master behind the Muppets Do Manhattan and The Dark Crystal), Little Shop of Horrors took on a life of its own and gathered so much momentum that it, in my mind, is the first true remake that was light years beyond its predecessor. The music was electric and the acting was stellar (with a cast that included Rick Moranis as the lead character, Seymour Krelborn; Ellen Greene, reprising her stage role as the slightly ditzy Audrey Fulquard; Steve Martin as Orin Scrivello, Audrey’s sadistic boyfriend; and Four Tops lead singer, Levi Stubbs, as the voice of the murderous flytrap).

What captured me most of all, however, was the fact that every single character gave the audience someone to relate to. It made the shocking and perverse murders that occurred that much more visceral.

From The Little Shop of Horrors in 1960, to the acid tripped, Motown dripped remake in 1986, Little Shop of Horrors stands the test of time as one of the most underrated horror films of all time. Not only does it deliver on the freak out aspect (let’s be real, if a 20 foot carnivorous plant decided to chomp its way to world domination, you’d be more than a bit uneasy), it’s a great deal of fun. As it is, I don’t think I’ve had more fun with a horror film in my entire life, and for that I tip my hat to Roger Corman for having the balls to create a cult phenomenon in just two days with virtually no budget. I salute you, sir!

Camiele White

Article writer by day, renegade poet by night, Camiele White loves any and everything film. She chases only the original (or incredibly funny) and has been known to talk for hours about subjects that most people just don’t care about. Right now, she gets her jabberjaw jollies writing about Halloween costumes. If you want to give her a buzz, she can be reached at cmlewhite at gmail.com.




Thank you Camiele!!