The Vincent Price Collection III

Almost every review of The Vincent Price Collection III is likely to point out that none of the films included are what fans would exactly call "high profile" releases. Scream Factory has already presented the actor's most popular collaborations with Roger Corman on their Edgar Allan Poe series in collections 1 and 2. For those only interested in viewing the highlights of Price's career, you can probably call it a day. But this third (and final?) collection offers some unexpected cinematic rewards for those with an urge to dig deeper.

Master of the World (1961) was American International Picture's attempt to compete with big boys like Fox and Columbia in adapting a Jules Verne novel (or in this case, combining two of them) with all the pomp and circumstance of a roadshow presentation. The final product falls well short of that, but it's not for a lack of creative effort.

Price plays Captain Robur, a Nemo devotee whose quest to end war results in him launching an indestructible airship that circles the globe destroying warships from all nations. A quartet of Americans become inadvertent prisoners onboard Robur's vessel and, rather than attempting escape, pledge to put an end to his plan of ending violence with violence.

With a brisk screenplay from the great Richard Matheson (Duel) and solid performances all around, the only thing that really keeps Master of the World from truly soaring is its limited budget, which results in some poor effects work and second-rate sets. Price, sporting a pair of fake eyebrows as thick as shag carpet, is obviously enjoying himself. And even though co-star Charles Bronsan looks exceedingly uncomfortable playing a stuffed-shirt hero, his intimidating and realistic acting approach is a nice change of pace.

Tower of London (1962) finds Price in more familiar surroundings...and with a familiar face behind the camera as well. Roger Corman directs this black-and-white period piece, which combines the storytelling of Shakespeare with the gothic trappings of the pair's previous Poe series. Stabbing, strangling and scheming his way to the throne, Richard of Gloucester (Price) finds that when he gets there the ghosts of his conscience demand a terrible price.

Even though the film's intention of cashing in on the Poe films and Olivier's recent success with Hamlet is glaringly obvious, the torture scenes manage to mix quite well with the more literate elements of the script. Corman's goal of turning Richard III into a ghost story works much better than you might think. And it certainly helps that Price, a classically trained theater actor, is a perfect match for the material.

That training was an even bigger asset for An Evening of Edgar Allan Poe (1970), a TV special with Price performing solo dramatic readings of four Poe stories: The Tell-Tale Heart, The Sphinx, The Cask of Amontillado and The Pit and the Pendulum. Shot on video by TV veteran Kenneth Johnson (The Six Million Dollar Man), the project is a unique showcase for Price's oratory skills as the actor carries each tale with the power of his performances alone. There are a few visual embellishments, particularly during the Pit segment, but overall this is like watching the best book-on-tape you could possibly imagine.

Diary of a Madmen has the same lush look and feel of the Corman-Poe series (probably thanks to shared production designer Daniel Haller), but pulls its inspiration from a series of Guy de Maupassant stories instead involving a race of supernatural creatures called the Horla who possess the bodies of evil men and force them to commit even greater crimes against humanity. Price plays a lonely French magistrate whose affair with a married woman becomes deadly when the Horla manipulates him to ruin the lives of everyone around him.

Stiff and stilted in construction, Diary of a Madmen (1963) spends long stretches of time without even mentioning the central menace of the story. And since the Horla are invisible, even their eventual appearance leaves much to be desired. Yet Price's performance is a gently appealing one, quite different from his usual slow-burning psychos and tortured souls. So at least in that respect, Diary offers up something outside-the-box.

And finally, Cry of the Banshee (1970) is presented in two different forms: the original AIP theatrical version and a new high-definition director's cut. Cut from the same cloth as Price's earlier Witchfinder General but with a shapeshifting monster inserted into the proceedings, here we're introduced to the malicious Whitman family whose patriarch (Price) has abused his legal powers to remove any signs of witchcraft from the countryside. He meets his match though in Oona (Elisabeth Bergner), who practices the old religion and uses her magic to transform the Whitman's groomsman, Roderick (Patrick Mower) into an avenging monster dog from hell.

I think.

Banshee isn't quite clear about the ground rules involved. Roderick's past seems to be littered with mystery, but none of it ever comes into play. And he mostly winds up just used and abused, turned into a masked monstrosity against his will. There is some attempt to position the film as a timely metaphor about the establishment versus the burgeoning youth movement. But in the end, the film is just a mean-spirited dry run for future torture porn like Mark of the Devil, with plenty of flayed backs and ripped bodices. And to make things worse, Price is poorly suited for the material this time around.

Scream Factory's four-disc set is every bit as impressive as their previous installments, perhaps even more so due to the rarity of the films involved. Master of the World is the only print that really shows its age, while all the others (even the 2" video transfer for An Evening of Poe) look tremendously clear and colorful. Extras are plentiful (see the sidebar for a listing) and even include two episodes of the short-lived Science Fiction Theater featuring Price plus 12 pages of liner notes with rare photos.