The Vincent Price Collection II

As performers go, there are no more icons of horror at work today. Actors like Karloff, Lugosi, Lee and Cushing were pigeonholed, much to their distress, as masters of the macabre and allowed to do little else but dress up – or combat - one monster after another for decades. It was a living. But many of them found more resentment than enjoyment in their elevated status amongst genre fans that grew up idolizing their work on-screen.

Not so for Vincent Price. Arguably the most erudite performer in the pantheon of classic horror films, the actor always seemed to relish his role as a twisted torturer, mad scientist, devil worshipper or vicious villain…whatever the case may be. But he also appreciated his status within cinema history. Rather than rebelling against his title as the “king of horror,” he accepted his accolades with open arms.

And that fan-pleasing attitude is on full display in Scream Factory’s new blu-ray box set, The Vincent Price Collection, which includes six of the actor’s most famous films presented in hi-def for the first time, along with a parade of special features as long as Torquemada’s torture to-do list.

Four of the six films represent Price’s collaboration with producer / director Roger Corman. Based (sometimes quite loosely) on the work of Edgar Allen Poe, the Corman films were the only real competition America offered up against the classic horror reboots from Hammer at the time and were a dramatic departure from the often corny work Corman had done in the past.

The Fall of the House of Usher (1960) is a mature, handsomely produced gothic thriller that showcased Price and Corman at their best. With a dyed-white mane and bereft of his signature facial hair, Price is unusually understated here. But there’s a subtle threat in every line of dialogue and more than a hint of madness in his eyes as Roderick Usher, the patriarch of a cursed clan whose mental decay has seeped in the very foundations of the castle around him. Corman goes all-out with showy camerawork, beautiful set design and an all-around air of respectability heretofore unseen in his oeuvre.

Its follow-up, The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), can’t help but seem like a slightly faded copy, despite a larger budget and more Hollywood attention. Here Price begins to develop what would become his onscreen “M.O.” as Nicolas Medina, a slightly sympathetic madman who eventually succumbs to a complete mental breakdown and tosses his sister’s lover into dungeon full of devices leftover from the Spanish Inquisition. Visually, Corman is on cruise control here. But Price begins to find his groove in a grandiose acting style more common on the stage than the screen.

The Haunted Palace (1963) steals it’s title from Poe, but is actually based on the work of H.P. Lovecraft and does a striking job of recreating the foggy villages and misshapen monsters created in the author’s imagination. It’s nice to get out of the castle once in a while, but otherwise much of this Price-Corman collaboration is more of the same with a slightly different setting.

1964’s The Masque of the Red Death is less a horror film than a historical tragedy with Shakespearean overtones. Price is truly in his element as the Satan-worshipping Prince Prospero, who locks his castle doors against an outbreak of the “red death” in the surrounding countryside. While the villagers suffer and die, Prospero stages his own wicked party games to entertain his guests. The cinematography by future director Nicolas Roeg (Don’t Look Now) drapes the film in striking shades of purple, yellow, red and white, almost experimental in their approach. It’s takes an awful long time though for the film to get to anything truly supernatural.

1968’s Witchfinder General (aka The Conqueror Worm) is likely the most celebrated film in the set, with a slow-to-develop cult reputation inspired by not only the film’s sadistic tendencies, but the off-screen antagonistic relationship between Price and director Michael Reeves, who died from a drug overdose just 9 months after the film was released.

All the baggage from Price’s horror history was just not what Reeves had in mind for the role of Matthew Hopkins, the actual historical figure who tortured and killed those suspected of witchcraft during the English Civil War. The tone of the film called for anything but a moustache-twirling villain. Price does his best at reigning things in, but can’t erase his showy reputation altogether. Witchfinder General lingers on masochistic imagery in a very unsettling way. It’s probably not the classic many critics make it out to be, but it was a harbinger of more video nasties to come.

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) is one of the most flat-out enjoyable movies in Price’s long career, bringing a sense of humor to the sadistic revenge story of man seeking retribution against the team of physicians who allowed his wife to die on the operating table. Delivering a quirky and almost dialogue-free performance, it’s obvious the actor is having a ball unleashing 9 biblical plagues upon his victims. And the supporting players make sure things stay “light,” despite the rather gruesome kill scenes.

Some sets can be absorbed in a long weekend, this one demands an entire month to truly enjoy, beginning with introductions and closing comments about each film by Price himself in hosted segments filmed for Iowa Public Television in the late ‘80s. Shot with the actor’s grand sense of theatricality in front of a roaring fire, the wraparounds are perfectly in keeping with Price’s public persona.

Each film in the set includes at least one commentary track (Corman contributes to all his films except The Haunted Palace) along with interviews and trailers. The first disc includes a lengthy audio interview with Price himself as he details the genesis of his Hollywood career, never failing to leave out the juicy gossip. Plus a 24-page booklet with essay, poster art and still pics. This is one set that should wind up in every classic movie fan’s Halloween treat bag!