Tag Archives: Edgar Allan Poe

The Oblong Box: Vincent Price and AIP’s Gothic Farewell to Poe

23 Friday May 2025

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Gordon Hessler’s somber, atmospheric horror marks a transitional moment as American International Pictures’ Poe cycle edges toward a darker, more violent future.

By the end of the 1960s, the gothic horror cycle popularized by American International Pictures was showing distinct signs of wear. Lavish yet increasingly formulaic, the once-groundbreaking Vincent Price/Edgar Allan Poe collaborations — most notably directed by Roger Corman — had set a high-water mark earlier in the decade. The Oblong Box, directed by Gordon Hessler and released in 1969, represents both a continuation and a mutation of that tradition: a film steeped in the tropes audiences had come to expect, but tinged with a harsher, more morbid tone reflective of the cultural shifts at the end of the decade.

Although marketed heavily as another Poe adaptation, The Oblong Box in fact has little to do with the author’s original short story, borrowing only the title and the general theme of premature burial. Nevertheless, its atmosphere — a decadent English estate rotting under the weight of ancestral sins — fits neatly into the aesthetic universe cultivated by AIP’s earlier Poe pictures. Vincent Price, ever the consummate performer, slips comfortably into the role of Julian Markham, a man haunted by familial guilt and constrained by social appearances. Price’s presence alone is enough to anchor the film in the familiar tradition of velvet-draped madness and doomed legacies.

However, The Oblong Box also marks a departure from the more theatrical, florid excesses of Corman’s earlier works. Hessler, stepping into the director’s chair after Michael Reeves’ untimely death and dissatisfaction from AIP’s executives, brings a colder, more clinical eye to the material. The film’s violence is more explicit; its themes — colonial guilt, fratricide, exploitation — emerge less as melodramatic devices and more as genuinely disturbing undercurrents. It is a film less concerned with Poe’s romanticised morbidity than with a burgeoning appetite for psychological and physical horror.

Christopher Wicking’s screenplay weaves in an uneasy undercurrent of imperialist critique, with the disfigured Sir Edward (played in part by Alister Williamson, though Price’s star power overshadows him) embodying the physical and moral consequences of colonial exploitation. The masked figure, red cloak swirling in the night as he seeks revenge, foreshadows the more explicit grotesqueries that would dominate British and European horror into the 1970s.

While The Oblong Box does not reach the stylistic heights of earlier Corman-Poe entries like The Masque of the Red Death or The Pit and the Pendulum, it nonetheless offers a compelling portrait of a genre — and a studio — in transition. Hessler’s film is handsomely mounted, if at times unevenly paced, and buoyed significantly by Price’s unerring ability to balance camp and gravitas. His Julian Markham is neither pure villain nor misunderstood hero, but a man slowly being devoured by forces he can no longer control, much like the American International Pictures horror line itself, inching toward its inevitable decline.

The Prognosis:

The Oblong Box stands as a fascinating artifact: a twilight entry that hints at both the glories of AIP’s earlier successes and the darker, less forgiving horror that the 1970s would embrace. It is not the purest distillation of Price’s talents nor Poe’s nightmarish imagination, but it remains a solemn, atmospheric bridge between eras — a coffin-laden corridor leading toward the more brutal horrors to come.

  • 1960s retrospective review by Saul Muerte

Spirits of the Dead (1968): European Elegance Meets Poe’s Dark Visions

19 Sunday Jan 2025

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The 1968 anthology film Spirits of the Dead (Histoires extraordinaires) brings together the talents of three European auteurs—Roger Vadim, Louis Malle, and Federico Fellini—to adapt the macabre tales of Edgar Allan Poe. What emerges is a trio of distinct yet interconnected visions, each exploring existential dread, moral decay, and the haunting spectre of the human condition. Elevated by an outstanding cast, the film is an intriguing, if uneven, entry into the anthology genre, showcasing how European sensibilities can bring Poe’s gothic imaginings to life.

The anthology boasts a stellar ensemble cast, whose performances anchor the film’s ambitious explorations. Jane Fonda dazzles in Vadim’s Metzengerstein, playing the cruel and capricious Countess Frederique. Her transformation from cold-hearted aristocrat to a haunted, guilt-ridden soul is as mesmerising as it is chilling. Peter Fonda, cast as her distant cousin and object of obsession, brings a quiet dignity that starkly contrasts with Jane’s volatile energy.

In William Wilson, directed by Louis Malle, Alain Delon embodies the titular sadistic officer with unnerving precision. His torment at the hands of his doppelgänger (also Delon) highlights the psychological depth of Poe’s tale. Brigitte Bardot’s supporting role as a card-playing temptress adds an unexpected layer of glamour to this dark parable of guilt and morality.

Finally, in Fellini’s Toby Dammit, Terence Stamp delivers an unforgettable performance as a disillusioned actor spiraling into madness. Stamp’s haunted expressions and erratic demeanour perfectly capture the surreal and nightmarish tone of Fellini’s segment, a loose adaptation of Poe’s “Never Bet the Devil Your Head.” His interactions with the Devil, personified as a sinister child, are both grotesque and strangely poignant.

Each segment of Spirits of the Dead tackles themes of identity, power, and existential collapse, albeit in wildly different styles. Vadim’s Metzengerstein is steeped in gothic decadence, reflecting on the destructive power of unchecked desire and the inescapability of fate. While its pacing occasionally falters, the visual opulence—from lavish costumes to eerie, smoke-filled landscapes—renders it an immersive experience.

Malle’s William Wilson takes a more restrained approach, employing stark visuals and a taut narrative to delve into the duality of human nature. The moral struggle of Wilson and his ultimate reckoning underscore the existential quandaries at the heart of Poe’s work, even as the segment’s subdued tone contrasts with the more extravagant entries.

Fellini’s Toby Dammit is a surreal and satirical masterpiece, brimming with the director’s signature flair. The segment transforms Poe’s cautionary tale into a psychedelic fever dream, replete with grotesque imagery and biting commentary on fame and artistic disillusionment. Fellini’s bold, idiosyncratic vision may overshadow the other segments, but it leaves an indelible impression.

Visually, Spirits of the Dead is a sumptuous affair. From Vadim’s lush, romantic landscapes to Malle’s austere compositions and Fellini’s kaleidoscopic grotesquery, the film offers a rich tapestry of styles that reflect the directors’ unique interpretations of Poe’s themes. The musical score, composed by various artists, further enhances the atmospheric dread permeating each story.

As with many anthology films, the unevenness of Spirits of the Dead is both its strength and its weakness. The shifts in tone and style between segments can be jarring, yet they also highlight the versatility of Poe’s narratives and their capacity to inspire wildly different interpretations. While not every segment achieves perfection, the film’s ambition and the performances of its exceptional cast ensure its place as a fascinating artifact of 1960s European cinema.

In revisiting Spirits of the Dead, one is reminded of the timeless allure of Edgar Allan Poe’s tales and the creative possibilities they offer. This anthology stands as a testament to the enduring power of collaboration and the ways in which distinct artistic voices can coalesce to explore the darkest corners of the human psyche.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism (1967)

08 Sunday Dec 2024

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Few films embody the phrase “style over substance” quite like The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism (1967). Directed by Harald Reinl and loosely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s The Pit and the Pendulum, this German-Italian co-production takes Poe’s tale of terror and cranks the melodrama up to eleven, delivering a feverishly over-the-top gothic spectacle. While visually striking, the film’s excessive theatrics and lack of narrative depth ultimately keep it from achieving greatness.

The story centres on Count Regula (Christopher Lee), a sadistic nobleman who seeks immortality by performing gruesome experiments on virgins. Executed for his crimes, he rises from the grave decades later to exact revenge and continue his diabolical quest. A lawyer (Lex Barker) and a young woman (Karin Dor) find themselves drawn into his nightmarish world, traversing eerie forests and labyrinthine dungeons to face the undead count.

If nothing else, The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism is a visual feast. The production design is suitably gothic, with crumbling castles, fog-drenched woods, and macabre torture devices that feel ripped from the pages of a penny dreadful. The film’s set pieces are undeniably atmospheric, and there’s a dreamlike quality to the more surreal moments, such as a forest filled with hanging corpses or the titular torture chamber itself.

However, these striking visuals can’t compensate for the film’s lack of substance. The plot is paper-thin and feels more like an excuse to string together elaborate set pieces than a coherent story. The characters are one-dimensional, with Lex Barker’s stoic hero and Karin Dor’s damsel-in-distress offering little to engage the viewer. Even Christopher Lee, despite his commanding presence, is given little to do beyond glowering menacingly.

The film’s melodramatic tone is both its greatest strength and its biggest weakness. On the one hand, the over-the-top performances and operatic score lend it a certain campy charm. On the other hand, the relentless theatrics often verge on self-parody, undercutting any genuine sense of dread or suspense.

While The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism has its moments—particularly for fans of gothic horror—it ultimately feels like a missed opportunity. The film’s dazzling visuals and promise of Poe-inspired chills are undermined by a lacklustre script and an overreliance on melodrama.

For those seeking an over-the-top gothic romp, it’s worth a watch. But for those hoping for a faithful or genuinely chilling adaptation of Poe’s work, this film falls far short of its potential.

  • Saul Muerte

The Masque of the Red Death (1964): A Gothic Gem with Some Tarnish

17 Saturday Aug 2024

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Roger Corman’s The Masque of the Red Death (1964), featuring the incomparable Vincent Price, is an adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s chilling short story. This film, known for its rich Gothic atmosphere and striking visuals, is often celebrated for its ambition and stylistic flair. However, despite its strengths, it has its share of shortcomings that prevent it from reaching the heights of other Corman-Price collaborations.

The film’s plot revolves around the tyrannical Prince Prospero (Vincent Price), who retreats to his castle with a group of nobles to escape the deadly Red Death plague ravaging the countryside. Within the castle’s opulent walls, Prospero indulges in decadent and cruel festivities, believing himself immune to the horrors outside. As the plague encroaches and the masked figure of the Red Death makes its ominous appearance, Prospero’s delusions of grandeur and invincibility are challenged.

Vincent Price, in one of his most memorable roles, delivers a performance that is both sinister and charismatic. His portrayal of Prospero as a sadistic and morally bankrupt nobleman is captivating, adding depth and nuance to a character that could easily have been one-dimensional. Price’s commanding presence and distinctive voice elevate the film, making his scenes the most compelling.

The film’s visual style is one of its standout features. Cinematographer Nicolas Roeg, who would later become a renowned director, brings a lush and vivid palette to the screen. The use of color, particularly in the various rooms of Prospero’s castle, symbolizes different aspects of human experience and emotion, enhancing the film’s thematic depth. The art direction and set design also contribute to the film’s rich Gothic aesthetic, creating a world that is both beautiful and foreboding.

However, The Masque of the Red Death is not without its flaws. The pacing can be uneven, with certain sections feeling overly drawn out and lacking in momentum. Some of the supporting performances are less convincing, and the dialogue occasionally veers into melodrama. These issues detract from the overall impact of the film, making it less cohesive than it could have been.

Despite these drawbacks, the film’s conclusion is powerful and thought-provoking. The inevitable arrival of the Red Death within the castle walls serves as a stark reminder of the futility of attempting to escape one’s fate. This key message, underscored by Price’s chilling final scenes, resonates strongly with audiences and reinforces the film’s central themes of mortality and hubris.

The Masque of the Red Death is one of several adaptations of Poe’s works by Roger Corman, who helmed other notable films like The Fall of the House of Usher (1960) and The Pit and the Pendulum (1961). While it may not reach the heights of these earlier efforts, it remains a significant entry in the canon of Gothic horror films.

The Prognosis:

The Masque of the Red Death is a visually stunning and thematically rich film that showcases Vincent Price at his best. Its flaws, while notable, do not overshadow its merits entirely. For fans of Gothic horror and Poe adaptations, it is a film worth watching, if only to witness Price’s masterful performance and Roeg’s captivating cinematography.

  • Saul Muerte

“The Haunted Palace (1963): A Gothic Fusion of Poe and Lovecraft with Price and Chaney”

20 Saturday Jul 2024

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The Haunted Palace (1963), directed by Roger Corman and starring Vincent Price, is one of the eight collaborations inspired by the works of Edgar Allan Poe. While the film has its moments of atmospheric dread and solid performances, it doesn’t quite reach the heights of some of the duo’s more celebrated works. Nonetheless, it remains a noteworthy entry in the Corman-Price-Poe canon, primarily due to its cast and the unique blend of Poe’s and H.P. Lovecraft’s influences.

Roger Corman and Vincent Price teamed up to create a series of films loosely based on the works of Edgar Allan Poe, and The Haunted Palace stands out as an interesting deviation from the formula. While the title and promotional material suggest a Poe adaptation, the film is actually based on H.P. Lovecraft’s novella The Case of Charles Dexter Ward. This blending of Poe’s gothic sensibilities with Lovecraft’s cosmic horror provides a unique, though somewhat uneven, narrative experience.

Corman’s direction, as always, is efficient and atmospheric, making the most of the limited budget. The film’s set design and use of color contribute to its eerie ambiance, creating a suitably oppressive atmosphere. However, the film’s pacing occasionally falters, with moments of tension undercut by slower, less engaging scenes.

Vincent Price delivers a dual performance as Charles Dexter Ward and his malevolent ancestor, Joseph Curwen. Price’s portrayal of Curwen is particularly compelling, showcasing his ability to embody both charm and menace. His performance is the film’s anchor, providing a sense of continuity and gravitas even when the narrative wavers.

The inclusion of Lon Chaney Jr. adds another layer of interest to the film. Chaney, known for his significant contributions to horror cinema, brings a sense of gravitas to his role as Simon Orne, Curwen’s loyal servant. His presence serves as a reminder of the film’s roots in classic horror, bridging the gap between the golden age of monster movies and the more psychological horror that Corman and Price were known for.

The Haunted Palace excels in creating a visually rich and atmospheric experience. The gothic sets, combined with the moody cinematography, evoke a sense of dread that is characteristic of Corman’s best work. The film’s exploration of themes like ancestral guilt and the supernatural aligns well with Poe’s literary legacy, even as it diverges into Lovecraftian territory.

However, the film’s narrative structure is less successful. The fusion of Poe and Lovecraft results in a story that sometimes feels disjointed, struggling to balance the psychological horror of Poe with the cosmic terror of Lovecraft. This inconsistency can be jarring, preventing the film from achieving the same level of cohesion seen in other Corman-Price collaborations like The Masque of the Red Death or The Pit and the Pendulum.

Additionally, while Price’s performance is strong, some of the supporting characters lack depth and development, making it difficult for the audience to fully invest in their plights. The film’s slower moments detract from the overall tension, leading to a pacing that feels uneven.

The Prognosis:

The Haunted Palace may not be the strongest entry in the Corman-Price-Poe series, but it remains a film of interest for fans of classic horror. Its atmospheric visuals, strong performances from Vincent Price and Lon Chaney Jr., and the intriguing blend of Poe and Lovecraft make it a unique, if flawed, addition to the genre.

In retrospect, The Haunted Palace stands as a testament to the creative risks taken by Corman and Price, as well as their ability to craft memorable horror experiences even when the material isn’t at its strongest. While it may not reach the heights of their best work, it remains a fascinating piece of horror history, worthy of appreciation for its ambition and atmospheric strengths.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Retrospective: The Raven (1963)

28 Friday Jun 2024

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The Raven (1963), directed by Roger Corman and starring Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, and Boris Karloff, is a curious entry in the canon of horror cinema. Loosely based on Edgar Allan Poe’s famous poem, the film diverges significantly from its source material, embracing a blend of horror and comedy that is both unique and peculiar. This retrospective review will explore the film’s psychological elements, the hammy delivery of its cast, and its execution within the horror genre.

At its core, The Raven leverages the psychological unease inherent in Poe’s poem, transforming it into a narrative driven by themes of loss, vengeance, and the supernatural. The film opens with Dr. Erasmus Craven (Vincent Price) mourning the death of his wife Lenore, only to be visited by a talking raven that is actually the transformed Dr. Bedlo (Peter Lorre). This initial setup delves into Craven’s grief and the torment of his memories, echoing the psychological torment that is a hallmark of Poe’s work.

However, as the plot unfolds, the psychological depth gives way to a more whimsical and fantastical storyline. The film’s psychological tension, while present, is often overshadowed by its campier elements. Craven’s internal struggle with his wife’s memory and his confrontation with the necromancer Dr. Scarabus (Boris Karloff) hint at deeper fears of powerlessness and betrayal, yet these themes are not explored with the same gravity found in more traditional horror films.

The performances in The Raven are emblematic of a specific type of theatricality that defines much of Corman’s work. Vincent Price, with his distinctive voice and expressive mannerisms, delivers a performance that is both grandiose and self-aware. His portrayal of Craven is tinged with a knowing wink to the audience, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation while fully committing to the character’s emotional stakes.

Peter Lorre’s Dr. Bedlo provides a counterpoint to Price’s Craven, with a performance that leans heavily into the comedic aspects of his character. Lorre’s physical comedy and his interactions with Price add a layer of levity to the film, balancing the darker themes with humor.

Boris Karloff’s Scarabus is a classic villain, portrayed with a melodramatic flair that fits perfectly within the film’s tone. Karloff’s presence brings a sense of gravitas and menace, yet his performance is also marked by a certain playfulness, particularly in the climactic magical duel with Price’s Craven.

The Raven occupies an unusual space within the horror genre. While it incorporates elements of horror—such as necromancy, transformation, and gothic settings—it does so in a manner that is more whimsical than terrifying. The film’s horror is tinged with a sense of fun, as evidenced by the elaborate, almost cartoonish magical duel and the playful banter between characters.

The film’s execution reflects Roger Corman’s ability to blend genres and tones, creating a piece that is as much a comedy as it is a horror film. The sets and costumes are richly detailed, contributing to the gothic atmosphere, but the overall tone is light-hearted. This approach makes The Raven an outlier in the horror genre, more akin to a dark fantasy or a parody than a traditional horror film.

The Prognosis:

The Raven (1963) stands as a testament to the versatility and charisma of its lead actors and the unique vision of its director. While it may not deliver the psychological intensity or pure horror that one might expect from a film inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, it offers an entertaining blend of horror and comedy. The hammy delivery of its cast, particularly the performances of Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, and Boris Karloff, adds to its charm, making it a memorable and enjoyable film within the horror-comedy subgenre. For fans of classic horror with a twist, The Raven remains a delightful and intriguing watch.

  • Saul Muerte

“Masterful Macabre: Exploring Roger Corman’s ‘Tales of Terror’ Through the Lens of its Stellar Ensemble Cast”

15 Saturday Jun 2024

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“Tales of Terror” is a gem in Roger Corman’s filmography, showcasing his adeptness at adapting Edgar Allan Poe’s stories for the screen while also spotlighting a fantastic ensemble cast, the film consists of three separate segments, each based on a different Poe story.

The first segment, “Morella,” follows a man who returns to his ancestral home, only to be haunted by the ghost of his deceased wife. The second segment, “The Black Cat,” centers on a drunken man who becomes increasingly obsessed with his wife’s black cat, leading to tragic consequences. Finally, the third segment, “The Case of M. Valdemar,” tells the story of a mesmerist who experiments with hypnotizing a dying man, with horrifying results.

Throughout these tales of terror, themes of guilt, obsession, and the supernatural are explored, with each segment offering its own unique blend of horror and suspense. The film is notable for its atmospheric cinematography, eerie score, and, of course, its exceptional ensemble cast, which includes horror icon Vincent Price, among others. “Tales of Terror” remains a classic example of Corman’s mastery of the horror genre and his ability to bring Poe’s macabre tales to vivid life on the screen.

Vincent Price, a frequent collaborator with Corman and a master of Gothic horror, delivers a tour-de-force performance in each of the three segments that make up the anthology film. His ability to inhabit a range of characters, from the tragic to the macabre, adds depth and nuance to the storytelling.

Joining Price are esteemed actors such as Peter Lorre and Basil Rathbone, both of whom leave an indelible mark on their respective segments. Lorre’s trademark blend of humor and pathos infuses his portrayal with a sense of whimsy, while Rathbone’s commanding presence lends an air of gravitas to the proceedings.

Additionally, the film benefits from the contributions of actresses like Debra Paget and Joyce Jameson, who bring a sense of vulnerability and strength to their roles. Their performances add layers of complexity to the characters they portray, enriching the thematic depth of the stories.

Furthermore, the ensemble cast enhances the sense of camaraderie and collaboration that permeates the film. Each actor plays off of the others with seamless chemistry, creating a dynamic and engaging viewing experience for audiences.

In “Tales of Terror,” Roger Corman demonstrates his knack for assembling talent both in front of and behind the camera. The ensemble cast elevates the material, breathing life into Poe’s tales of horror and suspense with their captivating performances. Their collective contributions ensure that each segment of the film resonates with audiences long after the credits roll.

  • Saul Muerte

“Poe’s Pulse: The Tell-Tale Heart (1960) and the British B-Movie Influence on Psychological Horror”

15 Wednesday May 2024

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“The Tell-Tale Heart,” directed by Ernest Morris and released in 1960, stands as a significant piece in the cinematic adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s literary works. The film, though low budget, managed to capture the eerie essence of Poe’s tale through atmospheric visuals and a haunting performance by Laurence Payne as the tormented protagonist.

During the 1960s, Edgar Allan Poe was revered as a master of macabre literature, his stories and poems considered essential reading for fans of horror and suspense. His works had already been adapted into numerous films, showcasing his enduring influence on popular culture. Poe was often viewed as a mysterious and enigmatic figure, his own life marked by tragedy and a penchant for the morbid and grotesque.

In the realm of cinema, British B movies played a significant role in shaping the horror genre during this period. These low-budget productions, often characterized by their creativity and resourcefulness, contributed to the proliferation of atmospheric and psychologically-driven horror films. While lacking the lavish budgets of their Hollywood counterparts, British B movies compensated with inventive storytelling, strong performances, and a focus on atmosphere and mood.

“The Tell-Tale Heart” exemplifies the influence of British B movies on the horror genre. Despite its modest budget, the film effectively creates a sense of dread and paranoia, mirroring the psychological turmoil of Poe’s protagonist. The use of shadowy cinematography and eerie sound design heightens the tension, while Payne’s portrayal captures the character’s descent into madness with chilling intensity.

Furthermore, British B movies of the 1960s often embraced a more psychological approach to horror, delving into themes of guilt, obsession, and existential dread. These films explored the darker aspects of the human psyche, drawing inspiration from literary sources like Poe to craft tales of psychological horror that lingered in the mind long after the credits rolled.

The Prognosis:

“The Tell-Tale Heart” stands as a testament to both Edgar Allan Poe’s enduring legacy and the impact of British B movies on the horror genre. By channeling the atmospheric qualities of Poe’s original tale and embracing the creative spirit of low-budget filmmaking, the film remains a haunting and evocative adaptation that continues to resonate with audiences today.

  • Saul Muerte

1960s Horror Retrospective: House of Usher (1960)

27 Saturday Apr 2024

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Up until now, American International Pictures had been overseeing black and white features shot on a low budget. House of Usher would prove a vital turning point for the film production company, marking it as the first that would be shot in colour. It would also be the first in seven collaborations between director Roger Corman and the enigmatic Vincent Price based on American Gothic writer and poet Edgar Allan Poe’s work. Although it strains a little from this well-known piece, one which modern audiences would be familiar with through Mike Flanagan’s love song to the artist, it is well crafted and stylised to have generated a worthy audience at the box office.

When Philip Winthrop embarks on a visit to the titular house in order to see his fiance Madeline Usher (Myrna Fahey) is greeted by her brother, Roderick (Price) instead. Roderick is hellbent on encouraging Philip to leave for fear that the usher curse that has been placed on the family and its household should further bring ruin to the couple. Philip does not take on this warning and instead aims to steal Madeline from the house. This plan falls awry though when Madeline slips into a catatonic state, and her fiance resigns with a heavy heart that his betrothed has died. Roderick meanwhile ebbs further into a state of madness, believing the curse to have struck again and entombing Madeline in the family crypt. This act is enough to send poor Madeline into hysteria, and thus the two siblings are joined in their own pandemonium.

Madness and its frailty is certainly exposed here as the core theme to the film and Vincent Price’s amplified performance is never more on song than here. From a bumper year in 1959, turning out in horror classics such as House on Haunted Hill; The Tingler; and The Bat, Price would cement his name in the dark genre and take great strides in the sixties and early seventies. This is very much his movie, ably supported by the visual chemistry of set design, gore and the quality of special effects for its time.

– Saul Muerte

1960s Horror Retrospective

The Flesh and the Fiend

Eyes Without A Face

Peeping Tom

Psycho

The Brides of Dracula

Movie review: Raven’s Hollow (2022)

22 Thursday Sep 2022

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For the first 20 minutes Raven’s Hollow falls dangerously into made for tv territory, but not in a high standard way. Then it shifts into something that is something of note. Yes, the standard isn’t high and the CGI suffers a little, but beneath the surface is an interesting concept with solid performances to support this idea.

The fictionalised account of writer, poet Edgar Allan Poe’s military career as he leads a quartet of cadets through upstate New York when they encounter an isolated  community harbouring a  paganistic secret. These visions and events will eventually inspire his writing profession down the track. 

Poe (William Moseley – The Chronicles of Narnia) and the cadets are drawn to the strange titular town when they find a man that appears to have been sacrificed by some occult. Cue lots of witchery, cult-like behaviour, combined with a raven-like creature that appears to have a strong hold over the settlement.

Poe soon takes on an investigative role to uncover the truth about the mysterious happenings of Raven’s Hollow and in doing so, ignites the narrative a little, drawing the audience in. 

The array of townsfolk on display from the talents of Melanie Zanetti, David Hayman, and Kate Dickie add strength to the mix and along with it, an air of mystery that surrounds them. 

As the bodies start to pile up, so does the pressure to solve the case and end the curse.

The Prognosis:

The premise is enough of a hook for a movie which admittedly suffers under a shaky execution. This is more down to budget restraints though than poor production. The story holds true with enough twists and turns, supported by an able cast that bring about intrigue and supernatural elements to tie you to the story’s end.

  • Saul Muerte

Raven’s Hollow is currently streaming on Shudder.