******SPOOKY SPOILERS!******

Back in 1981, in eighth grade, I made the “Perfect Attendance Club” at my middle school (the only year I’d do so). The reward for our tireless academic dedication (hehe) was an exclusive auditorium screening of a horror anthology movie from Amicus Productions called “Tales from the Crypt” (1972), in full 16mm glory. This movie is not to be confused with the later, slicker HBO anthology series (1989-1996) which was also adapted from the same 1950s pulp horror comics sources (“Tales from the Crypt,” “Vault of Horror,” “The Haunt of Fear”) from writers Bill Gaines, Al Feldstein and Johnny Craig.

It was questionable to screen a horror movie to impressionable middle schoolers, but I’d already lost my horror virginity to “The Exorcist” six years earlier, at the ridiculously young age of seven, so “Tales from the Crypt” would be a walk in the park. Naturally I loved it, and I’d later learn the movie was one of seven Amicus Production horror anthologies, which included “Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors” (1965), “Torture Garden” (1966), “The House that Dripped Blood” (1971), “Asylum” (1972), “Vault of Horror” (1973) and “From Beyond the Grave” (1974)–all of which I’d seek out later in adulthood.

Directed by Oscar-winning cinematographer Freddie Francis (“The Elephant Man,””Glory”), this atmospheric, deliciously cheesy anthology flick stars Hammer Horror alum Peter Cushing, future “Dynasty” diva Joan Collins, and Sir Ralph Richardson as a monastic “Crypt Keeper” (who is not at all like HBO’s wisecracking, rotting corpse). So, as one undertaker said to the other, “Let’s dig in, shall we?”

“Tales from the Crypt” (1972)

The movie opens with Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” playing over the opening credits, as several strangers follow a guided tour of mysterious catacombs near an English graveyard. Separated from the main tour group, we meet housewife Joanne Clayton (Joan Collins), adulterer Carl Maitland (Ian Hendry), snooty James Elliot (Robin Phillips), greedy Ralph Jason (Richard Greene), and retired military man, Major William Rogers (Nigel Patrick). They make their way into a dark, stony vault with no apparent exit. There, a mysterious, monastic Crypt Keeper (Ralph Richardson) greets them, and reveals each of their dark fates…

Note: Some familiar faces populate this pulp horror anthology; Ralph Richardson (“Doctor Zhivago,” “Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan”), a pre-“Dynasty” Joan Collins, Ian Hendry (“Journey to the Far Side of the Sun,” “Get Carter”) and, of course, Hammer horror legend Peter Cushing (“The Curse of Frankenstein,” The Mummy”). After a heavy, full-pipes rendition of Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Toccata and Fugue” sets the traditional horror tone, the sound design becomes prominent as well, with echoing footsteps and the subtle sounds of scraping stone in the shadowy crypt. The atmosphere almost qualifies as another character.

“…And All Through the House.”

Through the Crypt Keeper, we see bored, scheming Joanne on Christmas Eve, as she impulsively murders her husband Richard (Martin Boddey) with a fireplace poker for his life insurance. Not realizing her young daughter Carol (Chloe Franks) is still awake, Joanne also learns through radio reports that a psychotic killer dressed as Santa Claus (Oliver MacGreevy) is on the loose, and is currently stalking her house. A stressed, paranoid Joanne does her best to hide her husband’s corpse in the basement and safeguard her home, only to realize that her daughter has unwittingly let the killer in, believing him to be the ‘real’ Santa Claus. The murderess is murdered, as “Santa” strangles her to death.

Note: Yes, the ‘blood’ in Richard’s death scene looks like primary red in a child’s watercolor paint set, but the performances more than make up for any deficits in makeup. Joan Collins literally works herself into a sweat with an amazing solo performance for most of the segment. And young veteran horror actress Chloe Franks (“The House that Dripped Blood,” “Whoever Slew Auntie Roo?”) is the epitome of innocence. And kudos to the casting of Oliver MacGreevy (1928-1981), whose dirty costume and tall, slender frame make his antithetical version of Santa Claus all the more unsettling.

“Reflection of Death”

Carl Maitland (Ian Hendry) says goodbye to his wife (Susan Denny) and young children under the pretense of a business trip, but is secretly planning to abandon them to be with his mistress, Susan (Angela Grant). Meeting Susan at an apartment in which he keeps her, the two of them drive off together late into the night. As Carl gets drowsy, Susan offers to drive, and accidentally runs the car off the road into a fiery crash. Afterward, we see only from Carl’s perspective as he wanders from the crash site, only to learn at least a year has somehow passed. Random strangers flee from him in terror, and even his remarried ex-wife screams as she answers the door, forcing Carl to flee. Seeking refuge, he finds a blinded Susan at her apartment. She allows Carl to come in, but is confused since she thought he’d died in the crash. Finally, Carl sees his burnt, corpse-like reflection in a glass coffee table and screams himself awake from an apparent nightmare–just as Susan runs the car off the road…

Note: Another short but effective segment. Deliberately disorienting camera movement after the crash, shot entirely from Carl’s perspective, as we see the reactions of terrified onlookers. Ian Hendry goes from cold-as-ice to instant pathos as Carl, who gets one hell of a comeuppance as a burned, wandering zombie. This segment has the best (albeit briefest-seen) makeup of the five segments, courtesy of Roy Ashton.

“Poetic Justice.”

Kindly Arthur Grimsdyke (Peter Cushing) is a lonely rubbish-collector and widower who builds toys for the local children and keeps stray dogs for company. Regularly communing with his late wife through an ouija board, he learns he’s in danger. Meanwhile, snobbish wealthy neighbors James (Robin Phillips) and his father Edward (David Markham) scheme to have the “filthy” man evicted trough psychological warfare which costs Grimsdyke his job, his dogs, and the trust of the neighborhood children. James makes a final “turn of the screw” by writing a series of cruel, hateful Valentine’s Day cards to Grimsdyke, prompting the old man to hang himself. One year later, a zombified Grimsdyke rises from his grave to seek justice by ripping out James’ beating heart and leaving a Valentine’s Day composition of his own…

Note: While the motivation behind James’ persistent torment of Grimsdyke is a bit thin, it serves its purpose in prompting a truly remarkable performance by Peter Cushing (one of his best, in my opinion), and of course, a great comeuppance for the arrogant James, played to the hilt by actor Robin Phillips (1940-2015). Cushing’s appearance as the zombified Grimsdyke is another fine and subtle piece of makeup, though the brighter home video version makes the dark mesh covering the actor’s eyes very visible–a minor nitpick from the era of practical makeup FX, when CGI makeups weren’t even conceived of yet. When I first saw the film as a kid, I thought James and Edward were May-December lovers instead of father and son. It wasn’t until after buying the film on DVD that I realized my mistake. Oops…

“Wish You Were Here.”

A reworking of W.W. Jacobs’ “The Monkey’s Paw” sees greedy businessman Ralph (Richard Greene) and his wife Enid (Barbara Murray) in danger of losing their prized possessions from bad business deals. Enid gazes upon a Chinese artifact which promises three wishes, and unthinkingly wishes for a windfall of money. Ralph is suddenly called away by his lawyer Charles (Roy Dotrice). On the road, a doomed Ralph is stalked by a motorcycle-riding Grim Reaper. Charles later informs Enid that she’s receiving Ralph’s life insurance, which covers their debts. A devastated Enid impulsively wishes for Ralph to return to her just as he was right before the crash–not realizing he’d died of a heart attack, not the crash itself. Ralph’s now-embalmed body is delivered to the home. Unthinkingly, Enid then wishes for Ralph to live forever, and he awakens, writhing in agony, and sealing his fate–as his tormented body is now unable to be killed…

Note: Actor Roy Dotrice is very familiar to sci-fi/fantasy fans as Commissioner Simmonds in two episodes of “Space: 1999” (1975-1977) and as “Father,” aka Jacob Wells, in the “Beauty and the Beast” TV series (1987-1990). He was also very memorable as Wolfgang Mozart’s stern, disapproving father Leopold in the Oscar-winning “Amadeus” (1984).

Note: The scene of the embalmed corpse of Ralph writhing in agony for all eternity was truly disturbing to me when I saw the film as a teenager (and remains so, even now). Ralph’s screams gave me a genuine nightmare or two, since I’d already attended a couple of funerals by that age. An effective performance by Richard Greene (1939’s “The Hound of the Baskervilles,” the 1950s “Robin Hood” TV series). Also liked the surreal image of the stylized undertakers casually bringing Richard’s casket back into the house, as fog rolls in from the open door…

“Blind Alleys.”

Former Army Major Major William Rogers (Nigel Patrick) is the new administrator at a home for the blind, which he intends to run like a business, not a charity. Arriving with his formidable German shepherd Shane, Rogers cuts the men’s rations and meager creature comforts. As conditions become intolerable and a longtime resident dies, Rogers meets resistance from George Carter (Patrick Magee) who speaks on behalf of the men. Brushing off their complaints, Rogers soon realizes Shane is missing. As he searches for his dog, the rebelling men overpower Rogers and place him in a makeshift basement cell, across from his dog’s. Despite the creature’s ceaseless barking, the determined crew work in concert to construct a maze outside of Roger’s cell. After several days, Rogers is ‘released’ into a narrow corridor lined with razor blades. As the lights turn off, Rogers reaches a dead end–as a now-feral Shane is released to devour his master…

Note: The final segment is a deeply sadistic story that stretches credibility, even for a horror fantasy, as a group of blind old men construct such an elaborate torture chamber for Rogers. And despite Rogers’ indulgence of his dog at the expense of the men, injustice doesn’t excuse animal cruelty. Nevertheless, fine performances all around, as Nigel Patrick (“The Pickwick Papers,” “The Trial of Oscar Wilde”) goes from arrogance to helplessness, as the men go from victims to tormenters. Patrick Magee (“A Clockwork Orange”) as Carter gets his best moment when he eats the rationed soup, and angrily growls “Dishwater!” That moment, followed by the death of his ailing friend Harry (Harry Locke)–who succumbs to Rogers’ brutal austerity–are Carter’s breaking points.

Coda

As Joanne, Carl, James, Ralph and Major Rogers realize they are in limbo, a door to the crypt is opened, and a bright light streams into the darkened stony space. Ralph tentatively walks in, only to fall into the flaming abyss of Hell. The rest blindly follow. The Crypt Keeper then turns to the audience and asks who’s next…?

Note: The ending, with the damned main characters plunged into the flames of Hell, would also turn up in the 1995 cinematic homage “Tales from the Hood,” which, despite its modern themes and setting, very much captures the flavor of this film in its own way. And with all respect to Ralph Richardson (1902-1983), you haven’t lived until you see Clarence Williams III (1939-2021) as the gleefully ghoulish “Mr. Simms”–his own version of the Crypt-Keeper that blows his predecessors away. Both films make a great Halloween double feature.

The End.

Summing It Up

“Tales from the Crypt” was produced by writer Milton Subotsky (1921-1991), who also produced two non-canonical “Doctor Who” movies (“Dr. Who and the Daleks,” “Daleks: Invasion Earth 2150 A.D.”) as well as the TV adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s “The Martian Chronicles.” Subotsky was a solid, prolific producer of audience-pleasing pulp fiction. In that regard, “Tales from the Crypt” works beautifully. Subotsky’s Amicus horror anthologies were not terribly subtle; with simplistic stories and two-dimensional characters. However, everyone involved fully commits, and its shows. “Tales from the Crypt” is a standout example, and it would inspire other horror anthologies, including the later “Tales from the Hood” movies, and 2007’s “Trick ‘r Treat.”

Ralph Richardson‘s monastic Crypt Keeper is dour and humorless compared to his cackling, punning, corpse-like counterpart in the HBO TV series. However, there are generous helpings of black humor woven throughout each of the five segments, such as Joan Collins‘ Alexis Carrington-esque line reading of “Merry Christmas,” or the ghastly punchline poem left by a zombified Peter Cushing for his ‘heartless’ tormenter, to cite two examples. That gallows humor maintains a lightness to the segments that respects their pulpy comic book tone and origins. Despite the camp, the horror still punctuates. As a kid, I was disturbed for days after seeing the reanimated, embalmed corpse of Richard Greene writhing in agony for all eternity, and from the implicit horror of the apathetic Nigel Patrick being eaten alive by his starved dog.

Yes, the bright red blood looks like paint from a child’s watercolor set, and on the remastered video, you can easily see the black mesh covering the unconvincing eye ‘sockets’ of the Grimsdyke zombie and the Grim Reaper motorcyclist. Though watching it today, with a somewhat brighter video presentation, it’s still very easy to get caught up in it all, since the actors throw their backs into it as if they were doing Shakespeare at the Old Vic. When I saw the movie as an eighth grader in 1981, it worked well enough, since I was so deeply invested in the stories. The movie’s grainy 16mm presentation also conveniently masked some of the flaws as well.

With both Christmas and Valentine’s Day segments, “Tales from the Crypt” also makes for fine Halloween holiday viewing as well, and its 92-minute total runtime guarantees its five stories move along at a decent pace. If variety is indeed the spice of life, then the five segments of “Tales from the Crypt” (1972) make for a fine bag of mixed treats. Dim the lights and enjoy!

Where to Watch

“Tales from the Crypt” (1972) is available to stream via YouTube, Tubi and Plex (all free, with ads). The movie is also available on a double-feature with its Amicus Productions’ sibling film “Vault of Horror” (1973) on DVD and Blu-Ray from Fox Home Video in the US.