By Keri O’Shea
Editor’s note: this review contains mild spoilers (though nothing more than on the website or packaging blurb).
Whilst Vincent Price is rightly revered for all of his extensive filmography, it’s often the slightly more unconventional, the more unorthodox roles in which he truly stood out. That may sound like a very silly thing to say, when you consider that so often he acted out plot-lines which were anything but orthodox, compared to more mainstream cinema at least – but if he become known for anything at all then it was a certain overblown quality, a manner of enunciating his lines, a grandiose style. When he did something other than that in his work, then it was noteworthy. His performance in Witchfinder General, three years prior to making the film under discussion here, was quite unlike anything else that he’d done; this came about by accident, as he was bitterly miserable in grey England and at loggerheads with the film’s upstart young director Michael Reeves, but the end result was phenomenal. And, whilst Cry of the Banshee, made soon thereafter, has many merits – the next role he acted which, for me, is really stand-out is somehow an unholy marriage between Price’s older style and the pared-down performance he gave in Witchfinder General. Price’s turn as Dr. Anton Phibes, is both flamboyant but mordant, ostentatious but solemn – apart from anything else, it’s a role in which he is not seen to enunciate a single word.
The plot is, in a nutshell, that something despicable is happening in 1920s London. Surgeons and doctors are dying, in a series of increasingly bizarre ways; insect attacks, animal attacks – and not native species either. The common link seems to be the earlier death of a Victoria Phibes at the hands of these medics; it is recounted that her distraught husband, a Dr. Phibes, was rushing to her side, when he too tragically died – he in an accident, her on the operating table. We are made privy in the opening reels of the film that a mysterious personage wearing a mask seems linked to these events, but the exposition which completes this story is anything but predictable. The film plays out as an ingenious revenge drama, interspersed with equally ingenious horror scenes and what can only be described as musical interludes. It’s part Grand Guignol and part vaudeville.
If that sounds disparaging then believe me, it’s not intended as such. One of the film’s chief appeals is how uniquely it marries its different elements. It never feels like a camp comedy with some horror thrown in, nor does it feel like a horror film gone awry. There are some occasions at first when you wonder if you’re meant to be laughing – the investigating officer’s name-related gags, the simply fabulous murders (death by gilded unicorn?) but soon you realise that director Robert Fuest intends you to do just that, and there’s plenty to laugh at here – the very presence of that British institution Terry Thomas will do it alone. Another factor which adds massively to the appeal – and something which largely benefits from the Blu-ray treatment – is the unique, weird aesthetic on offer. It may be set in the 1920s, and the Art Deco trappings might be there, but this film feels and looks incredibly 70s. From the colouration to the fabrics, it’s the charmingly unconvincing period setting which sets off the plot developments so well. Vulnavia (Virginia North), Phibes’s beautiful and mute assistant (whose attachment to him is never questioned nor explained) looks every inch the 70s glamour girl. It’s a style which is crazy enough to work.
And then, there’s that strangely prescient theme, considering how horror’s developed in recent-ish years – the specific revenge taken against each of the allegedly-culpable surgeons, doctors and nurses. Brutal as Hell editor-in-chief Ben noted as we watched the film that it has a lot in common with Seven; it has the biblical link, the systematic approach and the ritualised, torturous deaths. If Saw upped the ante from Seven and spawned a sub-genre, then Seven seems to owe a lot to Phibes. Add to that a twisted, but charming love story (with Caroline Munro as the uncredited, voiceless and motionless lost bride), and what you have, folks, is a classic cult movie.
So far, so good. It’s fair to say that most Vincent Price fans will have seen this movie in some incarnation anyway, and most of you will own it in some form already; I know I’m probably preaching to the converted. So should you fork out for the film on Blu-Ray? I have to say, although I’d advise it on the strength of what we saw, we didn’t see the whole package, as we didn’t receive the lot. Arrow is releasing both the first film and its sequel, Dr. Phibes Rises Again. On top of all that, you get a slew of extra features; the usual commentaries, trailers and a collector’s booklet, an interview with Victoria Price (Vincent Price’s daughter) and an interview with David Del Valle, Price’s biographer. What I did see – and rather enjoyed, thinking it an obvious choice in so many ways – is the short interview with British horror comedy team The League of Gentlemen about their love for the film. They have clearly let their love of horror bleed into their work, and it was nice to hear them chat happily about their influences. The transfer itself is impeccable – sometimes almost too much so, as high-definition picks out little flaws which would have passed us by on a less polished format, but then for every string-attached-to-bat you’d rather not see, you do get to enjoy the vivid colours as they were intended.
Essentially, Arrow have been turning out quality products for years now, and this is no exception. You could do a damn sight worse than add this release to your collection, and whether you’ve seen this film never, once or fifty times, there is more than enough here to reward your hard cash.
The Complete Dr. Phibes will be released by Arrow Video on 16th June 2014.