Freddie Francis’ The Deadly Bees may not have the same cultural cachet as his other horror offerings, but it brings with it a certain charm that’s hard to ignore. Written by Psycho author Robert Bloch, the film suffers somewhat from missed casting opportunities; Bloch had originally envisioned horror titans Boris Karloff and Christopher Lee in lead roles, but neither were available. This might have robbed the film of the eerie gravitas it aimed for, though it remains a curious entry in the 1960s horror catalogue.
In the absence of genre icons, Suzanna Leigh takes center stage as a pop singer sent to recuperate on a secluded island, only to find herself amidst a swarm of sinister, trained bees. Supported by Guy Doleman and Frank Finlay, Leigh provides a solid performance that keeps things engaging, even when the plot begins to unravel into the typical B-movie chaos. Doleman and Finlay hold their own with performances that embrace the film’s campiness without undercutting its more intense moments, giving the story a grounding it might otherwise lack.
Despite its flaws, The Deadly Bees is unmistakably Freddie Francis, with flashes of atmospheric tension and distinct visual flair. Known for his craftsmanship behind the camera, Francis injects a surprisingly effective suspense into scenes where the buzzing insects become the ominous harbingers of doom. The film’s strengths lie not in polished narrative but in its quirky nostalgia; it’s a feature that echoes the drive-in era of horror, trading complex thrills for straightforward, almost endearingly clunky frights. For those who fondly recall late-night horror viewings, The Deadly Bees offers a reminder of that unrefined yet entertaining genre spirit, leaving a mark that’s pleasantly out of place in horror history.
Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors is a prime example of the horror anthology format at its most entertaining, blending eerie tales with a rich atmosphere and a roster of legendary stars. Directed by Freddie Francis and produced by Amicus Productions, this 1965 film capitalises on the anthology craze of the time, delivering a package of five macabre stories wrapped in a sinister framing device that keeps the audience on edge from start to finish.
The film’s plot revolves around five men sharing a train compartment, each of whom has his fortune read by the mysterious Dr. Schreck (Peter Cushing), using a deck of tarot cards. Each card reveals a terrifying glimpse into their potential future, serving as the springboard for five distinct stories, each with its own unique flavour of horror.
The stories range from tales of vengeful plants and werewolves to voodoo curses and vampire lore, offering a diverse mix that keeps the film engaging. While not all segments are equally strong, there’s a consistency in tone and execution that makes the entire anthology satisfying as a whole. The direction by Freddie Francis, a seasoned cinematographer and director known for his work with Hammer Films, ensures that even the weaker segments are visually compelling and atmospherically rich.
The star power in Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors is one of its biggest draws. Peter Cushing is superb as the enigmatic Dr. Schreck, imbuing the role with just the right mix of menace and mystique. He is the glue that holds the anthology together, and his presence is felt in every story, even when he’s not on screen. The supporting cast is equally impressive, featuring Christopher Lee, Donald Sutherland, Michael Gough, and Roy Castle, each of whom brings their own charisma and gravitas to their respective segments.
Christopher Lee, in particular, shines as a snobbish art critic who finds himself at the mercy of a vengeful painter, while Donald Sutherland’s turn as a newlywed doctor who suspects his wife might be a vampire adds a chilling twist to the film’s final tale. These performances elevate the material, ensuring that even the more outlandish plots are delivered with conviction.
While the film is undeniably fun, it does have its limitations. Some of the stories feel a bit predictable by today’s standards, and the special effects, though effective for the time, may come off as quaint to modern viewers. However, these are minor quibbles when set against the film’s many strengths. The pacing is brisk, with each story moving swiftly to its inevitable twist, and the film never overstays its welcome.
The real charm of Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors lies in its ability to create an unsettling atmosphere with minimal resources. The film relies on suggestion, shadows, and the power of storytelling to evoke fear, rather than on gore or shock value. This restraint is refreshing and gives the film a timeless quality, making it a must-watch for fans of classic horror.
The Prognosis:
Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors stands as one of Amicus Productions’ finest contributions to the horror anthology genre. It’s a film that understands the appeal of a well-told tale, and while it may not be the most groundbreaking of horror films, it remains an enjoyable and memorable experience, especially for those who appreciate the genre’s golden era.
From Beyond the Grave (1974) is an anthology horror film produced by Amicus Productions and directed by Kevin Connor. It features a series of macabre tales linked by an antique shop run by Peter Cushing’s enigmatic proprietor. While the film showcases the hallmark traits of Amicus’s anthology style and benefits from Milton Subotsky’s vision, it falls short of achieving the lasting impact of some of its predecessors. This retrospective review will examine the film’s place in the horror anthology subgenre, the effective production work of Amicus Productions, and the influence of producer Milton Subotsky.
Horror anthologies have a unique appeal, offering audiences multiple stories within a single film. From Beyond the Grave adheres to this format, presenting four distinct tales of supernatural and psychological horror. Each segment explores different themes and horror elements, ranging from cursed objects to malevolent spirits. This variety can be a double-edged sword: while it provides a diverse viewing experience, it can also lead to uneven storytelling and inconsistent scares.
In the context of horror anthologies, From Beyond the Grave stands as a competent but not groundbreaking example. The segments vary in quality, with some delivering genuine chills and others feeling formulaic. The anthology format allows for a quick pace and frequent shifts in tone, but this also prevents any single story from achieving the depth and development of a standalone feature. Compared to earlier Amicus anthologies like Tales from the Crypt (1972), From Beyond the Grave lacks the same level of memorable horror moments and narrative cohesion.
Amicus Productions, known for its series of horror anthologies throughout the 1960s and 1970s, brings its trademark style to From Beyond the Grave. The film benefits from high production values, with well-designed sets, atmospheric cinematography, and effective use of practical effects. The antique shop setting serves as a compelling and eerie backdrop, providing a unifying thread for the disparate stories.
The film features a strong cast, including horror veterans such as Peter Cushing, David Warner, and Donald Pleasence. Their performances add gravitas and credibility to the stories, even when the scripts fall into predictable territory. Cushing, in particular, excels as the mysterious shopkeeper, imbuing the character with a sinister charm that anchors the film.
Despite these strengths, the production occasionally feels constrained by budgetary limitations. Some segments lack the polish and imaginative flair that could have elevated them, resulting in a final product that, while competent, doesn’t fully capitalize on its potential.
Milton Subotsky, co-founder of Amicus Productions, was instrumental in shaping the company’s horror anthology format. His vision for From Beyond the Grave is evident in the film’s structure and style. Subotsky’s influence ensures that each story adheres to a tight, episodic format, with a clear beginning, middle, and end.
Subotsky’s preference for blending supernatural horror with psychological elements is also apparent. The stories often explore themes of guilt, retribution, and the consequences of one’s actions, aligning with Subotsky’s penchant for morality tales. However, this approach can sometimes lead to predictable plot twists and moralistic conclusions, reducing the overall impact of the horror elements.
While Subotsky’s vision brings coherence to the film, it also reveals some of its limitations. The anthology format, while effective in providing variety, can feel repetitive when each story follows a similar moralistic pattern. This repetition diminishes the sense of surprise and suspense, key components of effective horror.
The Prognosis:
From Beyond the Grave (1974) is a solid but unremarkable entry in the horror anthology subgenre. It showcases the strengths of Amicus Productions, including effective production work and strong performances, particularly from Peter Cushing. However, the film’s impact is diluted by uneven storytelling and predictable narrative structures. Milton Subotsky’s vision provides coherence and thematic consistency, but it also imposes limitations that prevent the film from achieving the lasting impact of more innovative horror anthologies. For fans of classic horror and anthology films, From Beyond the Grave offers a competent, if not exceptional, viewing experience.
During the early 50s, EC Comics ran a successful horror series known as Tales From the Crypt of which 27 issues were produced on a bi-monthly basis. When co-founder of Amicus Productions, Milton Subotsky came into the position of securing the rights to produce a movie-length feature based on the comics he loved as a kid, he didn’t hesitate.
For me, criminally, I would blur the lines of recollection between this and Creepshow, both franchises having a crypt keeper / the creep taking on hosting or segway duties. It’s iconic status however was not lost on me and for those who have followed my writings or musings through the Surgeons of Horror podcast may know, I’m a huge fan of Peter Cushing’s work, especially with the Hammer Horror scene. Here he teams up with director Freddie Francis, who has been attached to films by both Hammer and Amicus in their history, and another creative with whom I admire. Francis does incredibly well with the 5 segmented stories, all drawn from the TFTC archives. And Cushing actually turned down the initial role offered to him from the script, which was part of The Monkey’s Paw inspired tale, “Wish You Were Here”, instead taking on the role of Grimsdyke in “Poetic Justice”.
The segments are weaved together with 5 souls trapped in a state of purgatory to face up to their evil deeds, by The Crypt Keeper (Ralph Richardson). One by one we witness these individuals recount their tales which lead to their death, from Joan Collins as Joanne Clayton in “…And All Through The House” in a Christmas inspired murder of a woman killing her husband and trying to hide the evidence form her daughter only to be sprung from a psychotic killer on the loose dressed as Santa.
Then there’s “Reflection of Death” where Carl Maitland (Ian Hendry) tries to run away from his family life with his lover, Susan (Angela Blake) only to crash in his car and be taken on a living nightmare where he believes he survived, only to find out that this is far from the truth. This is followed by the aforementioned segment with Cushing, where he plays the loveable, elderly figure Grimsdyke, who is the subject of jealousy by his neighbour James (Robin Phillips) believing him to be a waste of space, and bringing down the neighbourhood. When he takes action to strip down Grimsdyke’s life to bare minimum, he doesn’t expect the repercussions that occur beyond the grave.
The fourth segment, “Wish You Were Here” as stated before is heavily inspired by The Monkey’s Paw and the ramifications when you are not careful or specific about what you wish for when presented with three wishes. The last segment, “Blind Alleys” has Nigel Patrick as a self-entitled Major who gets his razor sharp comeuppance in a dog-eat-dog world where he attempts to rule the roost over the occupants in a home for the blind. The residents also include Patrick Magee hamming it up as always.
There’s a certain appeal to this anthology movie that lures you into each tale. Yes there are some obvious flaws but these can be forgiven for the atmosphere created by the creative team and the actors that give substance to the tales from the crypt.
It seems crazy to me that as a Brit and lover of Horror, that I am only now writing my first article on an Amicus Productions, a company that became notorious over their 15 year span between the early 60s and late 70s, and much like their counterpart Hammer Horror, boasted Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee as their key stars.
The House That Dripped Blood which celebrates its 50th Anniversary this year, was released at the height of their success not only lays claim to these fine British actors but also stars fellow actors Denholm Elliott, Ingrit Pitt, and Jon Pertwee. To top it off, the four stories that make up the anthology in this film were originally penned by Robert Bloch (Psycho).
Each of the tales are strung together by Inspector Holloway from Scotland Yard who is investigating the disappearance of film star Paul Henderson (Pertwee) from the titular house, which harbours some strange events over the years.
The first tale, Method For Murder sees Denholm Elliot as a horror writer, Charles who moves into the country abode with his wife Alice. Whilst there, Charles throws himself into his work where he comes up with a menacing psychopath Dominic. When he starts to see visions of the murderous strangler, Charles begins to question his sanity. Is Dominic really a figment of his imagination or part of Charles’ split personality manifested to enact his inner and darkest thoughts.
The second tale, Waxworks stars Cushing as a recently retired stockbroker, Philip who stumbles upon a wax museum in his local town that contains a mannequin that strikes an uncanny resemblance to a woman that he once loved. Philip automatically senses that there is something evil about the museum and swears never to return, but when his friend Neville (Joss Ackland when he had hair) arrives, both find themselves drawn once again into the spiritual domain and its maniacal owner, Grayson (Wolfe Morris).
By the third tale, Sweets to the Sweet featuring Christopher Lee as a widower, John, comes around, it is obvious that there is something untoward about the house and the power it has over its occupants. John is typically reserved and apparently over protective of his daughter, Jane. When a former teacher Ann moves in to be the young girl’s Governess, she at first suspects John of cruel and malicious treatment, but it soon becomes clear that there is more to Jane than meets the eye.
The last tale, The Cloak comes full circle and picks up with Paul Henderson (Pertwee) a brash and unlikable actor, who believes that he is above all those around him. Unhappy with the set design and costume department of his low budget feature, Paul takes it upon himself to get his own costume, namely a vampire cloak. The cloak though contains a dark energy though that slowly turns its wearer into a creature of the night.
At first I was a little unsure of the anthological approach to the movie but each of the stories involved are solid and compact, held together by fantastical elements and strengthened by a bloody good cast. They may stretch into the melodramatic, but I for one enjoyed every minute of it, especially its conclusion and the breaking down of the fourth wall.
Surgeons of Horror 