Tales From the Crypt

 Hello boys and ghouls! Except that we can't have any of that rubbish here, this is a respectable crypt. Take your screeched word play and punning across the pond, thank you. Here the crypt keeper is an imposing monk played by the Supreme Being himself (Sir Ralph Richardson); He presides over a chamber in the catacombs* into which five doomed tourists wander, their secrets to be spilled on the cold ground for our perusal like so many shambles for a haruspex to rummage through; Their sins exposed, and the exact manner of their deaths foretold.

 You know the drill - it's horror anthology time!

 The first tale is that of Joanne (Joan Collins), a woman who decides to end her marriage on a Christmas eve with the business end of a fire poker... only to be terrorized herself by a maniac (introduced by an urgent radio news report, which helpfully tells us he escaped from an asylum; Classic).

 It's an immaculately crafted short, with some truly memorable shots and ideas. The murder itself is iconic, and the fact that Joanne decided to do her husband in with their cute little daughter sleeping just a staircase away gives some extra kick to the proceeds - not to mention a really fun twist later on. The ironic wall-to-wall use of Christmas carols is also a nice touch. 
 Note that it predates Christmas Evil's killer Santa by nearly a decade.

 Next up is the story of a man (Ian Hendry) who tries to abandon his family for his mistress, only to suffer a car accident as they drive away. The rest of the episode is shot from the point of view of the man as he gets away from the flaming wreck, sees people screaming in horror as the gets near... and yeah, it's pretty easy to see where things are headed. There's a fun shot at the end when we get to see the face the filming style was so studiously hiding, but it's too little, too late, and not enough to compensate for a mediocre, predictable story with a hilariously naff crash scene.

 Then it's time for some nasty class warfare as a rich douchebag (Robin Phillips) takes it upon himself to get rid of a saintly older man (Peter Cushing) whose house is driving prices down in the neighbourhood, in as cruel a way as possible. It's a remarkably sad segment, made particularly heartbreaking by an incredible performance from Cushing at his most charming and vulnerable; we can see the exact moment his will is broken, and it's not pretty. This being a Tales From the Crypt tale you can take heart that at least there will be some gory comeuppance... but that feels like an afterthought. The actual horror is done by then. Great make-up, though.

 Richard Greene and Barbara Murray then act out their own version of The Monkey's Paw as a married couple who try to wish themselves back to wealth, with foreseeably tragic results. The twist is that the characters are aware of The Monkey's Paw, comment on how their situation is similar to it, and try to avoid their wishes... to no effect. It's not a great tale - the script (by Milton Subotsky, Al Feldstein and Johnny Craig) clumsily ties itself into knots whilst guiding the tale to its gory ending; Then again... it really is one hell of an ending.

 Last we dive again into the trenches of class warfare with the tale of another rich prick (Nigel Patrick) who takes over a nursing home for blind people, and tries to run it as he did his military camps. In a brutal drive to cut down costs - reducing heating and rations and even the number of available blankets - he incurs the enmity of one of his charges (Patrick Magee), especially since the asshole is living the high life in his well-appointed office.
 When one of the blind men dies as a result of the superintendent's miserly nature, they grimly set about the task of getting even, Tales From the Crypt-style. The vengeance itself is grand and well worth the price of admission but I found the lead-up to it, as well done as it is, to be too bloated for my taste.

 Once that's done all that's left is to tie up the framing story, which the movie does with verve and a lot of charm. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and as usual one of the stories doesn't really fit in within its logic at all. Not a huge issue, but it is a bit jarring.

 It's a fun compilation with stories of variable quality, but that's ever the case. What most struck me is the quality of the acting: the bar is set very high by Cushing, but Collins is great as a beleaguered ice queen, and Patrick McGee's wounded dignity is also something to behold.
 Director Freddie Francis does some superb work in the first and last segments, particularly, and while this is a 1972 movie, there's a surprising amount of the era's signature bright-red tempera blood and, yes, even a little gore.

 Amicus co-founder and co-writer Milton Subotsky was reportedly a long-time fan of William Gaines's EC Comics source material, and the love for it is very apparent throughout the film. It doesn't have the cheeky sense of humour later Amicus films would be known for, but it revels in its nastiness in a way that's undeniably fun.
 If I have to be honest I think I prefer some of the studio's other 'portmanteau' collections, but this is still a great anthology with some classic moments and a couple of really great stories. I do wonder just how much its impact on me has been dulled by exposure to this film's legacy... including many gorier interpretations of the same source material; Maybe if I'd seen this as a kid I'd rank this quite a bit higher.

*: A fun localization detail: These catacombs are said to house the remains of the Carthusian (and other) monks martyred by Henry the Eight, which makes sense of this film's version of the Crypt Keeper. Also, the Crypt is located under the same cemetery the camera pans through during the title sequence of From Beyond the Grave.

Neither the Sea nor the Sand

 Neither the Sea nor the Sand is a great movie title, isn't it? Unfortunately it's definitely not a great film. Dull, poorly written and suffering from a really bad case of shitty and overtly intrusive early '70s music... well, it's pretty clear why this has been all but forgotten, only to be exhumed by streaming services in their endless and unholy hunger for #content.

 Annabelle (Susan Hampshire) is sightseeing along the Jersey island coastline when she runs into Hugh Dabernon (Michael Petrovitch) - a handsome, brooding, slightly douchey lighthouse keeper who proceeds to court her with juvenile philosophy and bargain-rack morbidity. These days she would laugh him off as a pretentious goth git, but I guess back then it was new and interesting. Susan is unhappy with her marriage, and after a short chaste courtship she decides to stay in Jersey with Hugh.
 The first half of this movie is basically these people hooking up. Some of it is cute, including a couple of well made, non-gratuitous sex scenes, some of it is shitty, but either way at forty-five minutes it still feels too long.

 Then, while fooling around (non-sexually) in a remote Scottish beach, Hughie just... drops dead. This is a very effective scene, and Susan Hampshire really gets to shine here; she gets a lot of mileage just from looking desperate and/or dejected, using her very expressive eyes to great effect. Hugh's soon pronounced dead from a heart attack by a country doctor with a brutal bedside manner.

 Later that night, Hugh comes back to Anna. At first it looks like it's going to be a haunting, but nope - everyone else can see Hugh just fine. He doesn't talk now, and is listless and barely responding to stimulus, but he follows Anna around like a puppy and seems alive enough.

 Once they return to Jersey, though, it's quickly established that Hugh is very much not alive. Anna has somehow returned only the semblance of life to her beau, basically turning him into an amorous zombie (it could be argued that Hugh's love drove him to return, but the actor doesn't really sell it as well as Anna.)
 And here the movie seems to run out of ideas on what to do next; there's a murder, because there need to be some stakes, I guess; there's some attempts to cast doubt on whether what's animating Hugh is indeed Hugh or something else. There are scenes where Anna needs to mislead the police as to what's happening, and another where  Anna is in denial and goes shopping... that sort of thing.
 But it's very clearly just pointless waffling. It ends how it needs to end; Not much in the way of surprises, but at least it ties into some of the bullshit Hugh spouts at the beginning - a solid ending to a movie that is too often on very shaky ground.

 Even at an hour and a half the movie is bloated and full of pointless scenes. The dialog is often really bad - this is another one of those movies where people often just don't talk or act like human beings; this kills the first half of the movie, where it needs to get you to care about these foolish young things' budding love affair, and introduces some unintended humor into the second half with random bits like how Hugh's brother reacts to his sibling's death, or even worse, with a character played by Michael Craze who I guess is just there to (unsuccessfully) introduce some tension; this guy is so fucking hilariously inappropriate that I can't fathom what the scritpwriters were thinking of when they wrote him in.

 Most of the cast seems to be just British TV actors, and except the delightful Scottish Landlords, no one has the chops to elevate the material. Hugh's actor in particular needed to be a lot more charismatic to make the character interesting or fun to watch, especially later on when he barely gets any dialog. Susan Hampshire is a honorable exception and deserves some recognition for making some of her dialog actually work.

 The photography can also be quite nice, with lots of lovely shots of dreary British coastland. Other than that it's a pretty pedestrian-looking movie. Don't expect much in the way of scares, carnage, or zombie makeup even when Hugh is supposed to be decomposing. And the music... oh god, it's terrible. Just fucking horrible pseudo-hippy shit.

 It's important to state that even though the film chickens out and there's no actual on-screen necrophilia, if you choose to take the movie literally (and why wouldn't you?) Zombie Hugh does bone Anna telepathically from a distance, replaying previous sex scenes in their minds. Psychic zombie sex! If there's any reason why this film should be remembered, that's as good as any.