DVD Review: The House In Nightmare Park (1973)

Foster Twelvetrees (Frankie Howerd) is failed actor ("the greatest master of the spoken word" according to his poster), with more ham than the cold counter at Tescos, and ideas above his station. So when he is invited to perform a reading at the imposing country home of Stewart Henderson (Ray Milland), he jumps at he chance. And the money. When various members of the Henderson family turn up demanding their regular allowance from the family patriarch Victor, they discover that he has, in fact died, and that the bumbling Twelvetrees is in the rightful heir to the family fortune, and may unwittingly know where some valuable diamonds are hidden. They must do away with the actor to stand a chance of collecting what they consider to be rightfully theirs, as well as all other competition for the diamonds.  

Long unavailable in the UK (and pretty much elsewhere) this early '70s comedy horror was the perfect vehicle for the jittery Frankie Howerd. Much in the same vein as the Bob Hope haunted house comedies of the '30/40s (The Cat and the Canary, The Ghost Breakers), this, like the Hammer/William Castle remake of The Old Dark House, benefits from a brilliant cast, and great performances. Howerd essentially plays the same character we are used to, and ones enjoyment of the comedy does depend on whether you find his routine funny (I personally love it), but the script doesn't go over the top on his idiosyncrasies, so even his detractors could bear it.

There is certainly more threat and creepiness than the usual films in this sub-genre, helped by the surroundings of Oakley Court, the go-to location for many a Hammer film (being situated next door to Bray Studios), with the lavish interior sets built at Pinewood. A sequence by the family of the house where they perform "The Dance of the Dolls" is both hilarious (Milland in a sailor boy's outfit is a something you don't often see) and incredibly bizarre. The double twist ending plays with the audience's expectations, displaying a shrewd knowledge of the genre.

Director Peter Sykes had just made Demons of the Mind, an often overlooked film, for Hammer, and would return to their fold to helm their last feature before resorting to TV, To The Devil.. A Daughter (1976). Co-writer/producer Terry Nation was most famous for being the creator of the Daleks in Doctor Who, but he also was co-writer of the 1970 horror film And Soon The Darkness.. (recently remade). The other co-writer Clive Exton had adapted Ludovic Kennedy's book of 10 Rillington Place to a screen.

Harry Robinson's score is given it's full due here, with a bonus section on the DVD of 30 minutes without any dialogue or effects. Robinson worked on Hammer's Karnstein trilogy, and his score here is geared towards the horror aspects rather than highlighting the comedic.This is due to Network DVD having access to the original negatives and tracks, and will be a feature on several of their upcoming DVDs where possible.
The film is presented in a widescreen (1:75:1) format, plus an option to view it in 4:3 Academy ratio, as it was filmed, which as you would expect, reveals much more information at the top and bottom of the screen, and show Maurice Carter's glorious sets to great effect, and doesn't hurt the composition too much.

This release is among the first in a new range of British films, some upcoming releases that are of particular interest to myself (and, hopefully, readers of this blog) are Spanish Fly (Leslie Phillips and Terry Thomas), Keep It Up Downstairs (which I reviewed a while back,and look forward to seeing again) and a Blu-ray release for The Man Who Haunted Himself (Roger Moore). For more information, check out the Network DVD website. They also do a great range of TV classics, and I have many of their box sets in my collection.
I must say though, I'm not a big fan of the slimline case, as it brings back the memories of those 99p public domain collections found on market stalls. There's nothing cheap about the presentation, though, although with a new transfer, a Blu-ray would have been nice.
9 out of 10

Retro review: The Dead Don't Die (1975 TVM)

Death Row, Illinois State Penitentiary 1934, Ralph Drake (Jerry Douglas) is awaiting his date with old sparky, with him, his brother, Don (George Hamilton). Still pleading his innocence of murdering his wife, he makes Don promise to try and clear his name when he's gone.

After a quite harrowing and clinical execution scene, we skip 'a few years later' to Chicago and a dance marathon organised by shifty promoter Moss (Ray Milland). It was at one of these events Ralph's wife met her demise. The couples dance for days on end in the hope of prize money, and we witness the lengths some of the couples go to in order to win, including eating over their partner's shoulders and being dragged literally off their feet to stay in the game. It turns out Ralph has some money owed from Moss from previous wins, and Don, being next of kin, gets it.

Back at his hotel, Don is met my a mysterious woman, Vera (Linda Cristal) who warns him to leave. Looking out of the window, he spots what looks like his brother. Not believing his eyes, he chasing him into an old antique store, but is stopped by Levenia (Joan Blondell) and the store owner, Perdido (the ever sinister Reggie Nalder). A struggle ensues and  Perdido is killed. Struck unconscious by Levenia, Don wakes in Vera's flat and it warned again to leave, this time she says it's because of a man called Varrick. She tells him he killed Perdido, and she saved him. Going to the funeral parlour he finds his dead body, which suddenly starts talking. Only it's not Perdido's voice, it is that of Varrick who can resurrect and control the dead. He goes to the police, who try to check his story, but find no trace of Perdido in the funeral home, and on going to the store, there he is, alive and kicking, but looking a little grey.
Don heads back to Moss, who tries to convince him that maybe he's being set up, just as his brother was.

The Dead Don't Die is a rare made for TV film, the first perhaps to deal with zombies, and is very rarely seen (if at all in the UK - I had to get a copy that was sourced from a US VHS). Like most of the TV films of the 70s, it's not very long, but in it's brief running time manages a few creepy moments and the climax in a meat storage facility is brilliant and atmospheric, with a nice twist in the tale.

It was directed by veteran Curtis Harrington, who had made the early Dennis Hopper classic, Night Tide (1961), Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? (1972) and the fondly remembered Ruby (1977). It is Harrington who we have to thank for James Whale's Old Dark House (1932) being available. As an personal friend of Whale, he paid for the dupe print to be made before all the elements deteriorated completely. You can spot him in the party scene in the brilliant Whale biopic Gods And Monsters (1998).
It was also written by Robert Bloch, who should need no introduction.
Like a lot of the 70s TV movies, this is peppered with star names, mostly those who could no longer get work in Hollywood, sadly. Worth watching out for are Reggie Nalder, instantly recognisable from his genuinely scarred face. Nalder appeared in two of my favourite episodes of Boris Karloff's Thriller (1961), namely The Return of Andrew Bentley and The Terror in Teakwood. He was also in Michael Armstrong's infamous Mark of the Devil (1970) alongside Udo Kier and Herbert Lom, and it's rarely seen sequel. Another face worth watching out for is the 50 foot woman herself, Yvette Vickers, whose tiny part is a prospective dancer.

It's a shame these films don't get a proper release as I imagine seeing this in a properly lit print would be wonderful. Some scenes are so dark you can only see the teeth of the actors. Not at all flattering when one of them, James McEachin, is coloured! A very above average TV film. 7 out of 10.