An appreciation of Amicus’s first anthology, by Ken Shinn.
“As Amicus Films’ first such anthology, Dr. Terror’s House Of Horrors can be viewed as something of an experiment, a careful toe into dark water – albeit one which deservedly proved a resounding success and foundation stone for the many multi-story menaces to follow from the studio… “
When he was very young, horror author Stephen Volk wrote a spec screenplay for Amicus Films, and sent it to Milton Subotsky, a major figure and in many ways the prime mover of Amicus’ cinematic output. Subotsky was interested enough in Volk’s work to correspond with him, to the point where he invited Stephen to visit him for a more in-depth discussion. As Stephen later pointed out, he was mildly but pleasantly surprised to discover that, among the other tomes on Milton’s bookcases, there was a deluxe edition of such classic EC horror comics as Tales From The Crypt and Vault Of Horror. Subotsky, he felt confident in declaring, was a definite fan of these short, sharp tales of terror. Also, as has been reliably reported, one of Subotsky’s most favourite films was the 1945 Ealing Studios masterpiece, Dead Of Night – an early example of what has come to be known as the horror anthology or portmanteau.
So it was perhaps not such a surprise when, in 1964, Subotsky (and his long-time business partner Max J Rosenberg) took a decision which was to change his life – he had several ideas for stories covering a wide range of familiar horror tropes and figures, now all that he needed was a justification for a small group of people to be brought together in one place, and for their stories to be told, with no possibility of their just walking out on the sinister figure revealing their possible fates to them. In a stroke of mundane genius, he hit on the idea of several travellers who end up in the same passenger compartment of a night-time train.
Somewhere, a pair of hands in threadbare, fingerless gloves shuffled a prophetic deck of cards for the first time. Doctor Schreck and his ever-present House of Horrors were all set to deal out hands of appalling, lethal Destiny.
To a viewer coming to the film for the first time, the initial feeling from the opening credits can be one of mild confusion. This is obviously a horror film, as the ominous score by Elisabeth Lutyens and the very title itself indicate, and the names of Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee and Michael Gough – all already well-known as actors associated with frightening celluloid – definitely reinforce this, but the other names in the cast must cause some confusion: disc jockey Alan ‘Fluff’ Freeman? Popular singer Kenny Lynch? All-round entertainer Roy Castle? What are these people doing in a horror movie? And who’s this Donald Sutherland bloke (at the time, Sutherland was only just starting out in his big screen career, was barely-known in Britain – a long-standing rumour has it that you can spot him as a dialogue-free Thal extra in 1965’s Dr. Who And The Daleks – and his great appearances in horror film, Don’t Look Now and Invasion Of The Body Snatchers, were still half a decade and a decade and a half into the future)? The probable answer is that they were available, they had celebrity cachet of some form, and they came at an affordable price: and yet, perhaps a little surprisingly, they all fitted in with the more seasoned veterans of Fear in the company, and indeed their performances give the film a slightly odd, disengaged edge for modern viewers, at times veering close to kitchen-sink drama or even situation comedy, which serendipitously adds to the eerie ethos of the whole creepy confection.
Perhaps, though, the real explanation is simply that Amicus wanted to appeal to a broader audience than horror fans alone. Dr. Terror’s House Of Horrors, as their first such anthology, can be viewed as something of an experiment, a careful toe into dark water – albeit one which deservedly proved a resounding success and foundation stone for the many multi-story menaces to follow from the studio. And, in another very notable way, it differs strongly from almost all of its successors.
Subsequent Amicus anthologies, in line with Subotsky’s beloved EC comics, often had a clear morality to them, one very much in sympathy with those comics’ frequent deployment of Cosmic Justice – various nefarious types found themselves facing often grimly-ironic comeuppance, often at the hands of a vengeful visitation from beyond. Numerous figures of supernatural judgement – Burgess Meredith’s Dr Diablo, Sir Ralph Richardson’s Cryptkeeper, Cushing’s kindly-eyed but steely Proprietor of Temptations, Limited – appeared, ready and willing to weigh mortal souls in their balance. But, with the arguable exception of 1972’s splendidly amoral and nihilistic Asylum, Dr. Terror’s House Of Horrors refuses to sit in lofty judgement on its characters. Of the quintet of potential victims, only two – Lee’s Franklyn Marsh and Castle’s Biff Bailey – are guilty of any crimes, and in the latter’s case an apparently victimless one at that: the remaining trio are, to the best of our knowledge, innocent of any wrongdoing, and the supernatural figure watching over them does so not so much with any intent of retribution, but more with an almost compassionate air. He isn’t here so much to judge, as simply to guide, to show the way. Of course, the way that he’s there to show them isn’t necessarily pleasant – but the alternative routes that Dr. Terror has to draw from his trusty Tarot deck House of Horrors are far worse…and they all come with no-nonsense names that let us know just what we’re expecting – but not all of the twists. Prepare for your handy guide to possible, terrifying fates…and stand clear of the doors, we’re now leaving the station…
WEREWOLF
Neil McCallum’s tough architect Jim Dawson returns to the old Scots family estate to plan renovations with Deirdre Biddulph (Ursula Howells), a very well-preserved widow…however, her late husband had some very unpleasant, flesh-ripping secrets, and it appears that he may not be as dead as was presumed…
This is a taut, atmospheric tale, with some marvellously-claustrophobic catacomb sets and well-judged performances from all concerned – Peter Madden’s surly manservant Caleb and the pretty-yet-unsettling Valda (Katy Wild) make for particularly noteworthy Gothic grotesques. And before the story ends, we learn that lycanthropy, perhaps fittingly for pack animals, can be a surprisingly family affair…
CREEPING VINE
Family man Bill Rogers arrives home with his wife and daughter only to find a particularly ugly and troublesome weed growing in the garden. When an attempted pruning fails, things go rapidly from bad to worse, and the men from the Ministry called in to help are as stumped as anyone else…perhaps seeking to defend itself, the vine has become aware, intelligent, and murderous…
This is the tale of the quintet (sextet, if we count the framing story) which comes closest to failing. The whole narrative is played admirably straight, but the execution is so ludicrous that it overbalances towards the camp. However, Alan Freeman as Bill is pleasingly stolid, and Bernard Lee and Jeremy Kemp make fine and intrepid (if helpless) scientists. Even the family dog isn’t safe. And the ending may well make even Triffids shake in their stamens…
VOODOO
Jazz musician Biff Bailey (Roy Castle) finds unexpected musical inspiration from an occult ceremony during an engagement in the West Indies, and decides on a little musical pilfering, despite repeated warnings to leave well alone…After the premiere of his new piece literally brings the house down, maybe Biff has his doubts about his choice, but the retribution of Dambala is not so easily-appeased…
This is where that feeling of situation comedy is strongest. Harold Lang’s marvellously waspish club owner, Kenny Lynch’s fourth-wall-breaking playing of the Funeral March…even Biff’s demise (presumably having his heart supernaturally stopped) is turned into a semi-pratfall by Castle. However, the atmosphere of a powerful, dangerous force stretching from the West Indies to London’s seedy backstreet is well-conveyed. All this and Tubby Hayes too!
DISEMBODIED HAND
Pompous art critic Franklyn Marsh (Christopher Lee), goaded by his puckish artist nemesis Eric Landor (Michael Gough), stages a hit-and-run which results in Landor losing a hand, before despairingly committing suicide. Marsh can breathe easy – at least, until a certain five-fingered appendage makes an unwelcome reappearance, fearsomely persistent and with designs on Marsh’s throat…
And a legend is born! The prop remote-controlled hand seen here was to scuttle menacingly through numerous future Amicus pictures, and certainly presents an unsettling presence, even allowing for a small but marvellous sight gag in a pub scene. Lee and Gough also provide a fine pair of artistic antagonists. The twist in this yarn is particularly vicious, by the way – Marsh may not be killed, but with what does happen to him (and the anguished yell this occasions from him), suicide would seem to be on the cards for him, too…
VAMPIRE
When Dr Bob Carroll (Donald Sutherland) and his lovely new French bride Nicolle (Jennifer Jayne) return home to the United States, Nicolle begins to display a certain unnerving bloodlust…Bob’s colleague, Dr Blake, is assaulted by her and makes a startling discovery about the young woman…one with agonising implications for Bob – but is her vampirism the only thing in town that he should be worried about?…
The final story in the main quintet ends the film on a definite high – Peyton Place segues unnervingly into Salem’s Lot, Sutherland gives an affecting portrayal of a man struggling to come to terms with terrible knowledge and responsibility, Jayne is a sensual powerhouse of full-lipped bloodthirst, and as Blake, Max Adrian provides a performance which spring a few surprises. All of this and another sly, cynical punchline to the whole affair!
But wait! There’s more…
The film’s final moments are perhaps its most haunting. In short order, we are presented with nerve-jangling alarm, sudden, welcome relief…and then, one last, bleak turn of the screw. As the words The End appear on screen, we are left not with the triumphant vanquishing of Evil, nor even the reassuring survival of Good, but instead with one last, jarring shock, and then a slow, grim acceptance that, even if not as the cards of the House of Horrors foretold, Death will not be denied. That long, lingering closing shot of our quintet of travellers, marching slowly, silently down the deserted platform of a small, lonely railway station, its night-shrouded platform lit only by a small, sourly-glowing orange lamp, has a haunting melancholy rare in horror films – hell, in all films, full stop.
With its superb cast, Subotsky’s derivative yet inventive script, Lutyens’s moody, sinister score and some inspired visuals courtesy of cinematographer Alan Hume and director (and subsequent horror film powerhouse) Freddie Francis ensured that Dr. Terror’s House Of Horrors proved a sizable box office hit and even procured some favourable critical reviews. Subotsky and Rosenberg’s gamble paid off handsomely, and the stage was set for a whole string of further horror anthology movies from Amicus which were to run for a whole decade, as well as providing the inspiration – and many of the personnel – for such faux-Amicus horror portmanteau productions as Tales That Witness Madness, The Uncanny and The Monster Club.
The results could be uneven, to say the least, ranging from the highs of Asylum and From Beyond The Grave to the somewhat more underwhelming if still undeniably enjoyable pleasures of Torture Garden. However, one thing remains beyond doubt – Amicus’s venture helped horror cinema to maintain a healthy grip on cinema screens across the world, and arguably added a transfusion of contemporary blood into the excellent but decidedly distanced-in-time terrors of Hammer, paving the way for a fine tradition of ‘present-day horror’ that continued through the 1960s and beyond, bringing the fear just that little bit closer to all our homes.
However we may choose to cut the cards, Dr. Terror’s House Of Horrors still brings a winning hand to the table of terror. Long may it continue to do so.
❉ ‘Dr. Terror’s House Of Horrors’ is available from Fabulous Films Ltd. Cert: PG. RRP £19.99 (Blu-ray) / £14.99 (DVD). Buy it on Blu-ray / Buy it on DVD
❉ Ken Shinn still lives in Gloucestershire, has now entered his sixth decade, and has no plans to stop writing cult fact and fiction any time soon. Recent work of his can be found in ‘In The Lap Of The Gods’ and ‘Me And The Starman’ from Cult Ink via Amazon UK and ‘The 11th BHF Book Of Horror Stories’ from BHF Books. He has recently had a whole slew of articles published in We Belong Dead’s ‘Mods And Shockers’, and his debut collection of short fiction, ‘Shinnthology!’, is still available from BHF Books via Amazon UK.
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