DON'T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS (1984)

Directors: Edmund Purdom, Alan Birkinshaw (as Al McGoohan), Ray Selfe (uncredited), Derek Ford (uncredited)

Writers: Derek Ford, Alan Birkinshaw (as Al McGoohan)

Producers: Dick Randall, Steve Minasian

Cast: Edmund Purdom, Belinda Mayne, Alan Lake, Mark Jones, Gerry Sundquist, Kelly Baker, Pat Astley, Kevin Lloyd, Wendy Danvers, Wilfred Corlett. Lawrence Harrington, Maria Eldrige, John Aston, Caroline Munro (as herself), Ricky Kennedy, Sid Wragg, Max Roman, George Pierce, Derek Ford, Adrian Black, Ashley Dransfield, Ray Marioni, Ken Halliwell, Paula Meadows, Derek Hunt, Des Dolan, Sarah Hope-Walker, Dick Randall, Keith Smith 

During the Christmas season in London, England, a maniac is killing anyone dressed as Santa Claus. Scotland Yard Inspector Ian Harris (Edmund Purdom) has been assigned to the case that seems to yield no clues and his lack of results places his job in jeopardy. 

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Dick Randall and Steve Minasian, the producers that had unleashed upon the world the unforgettably lurid and absurd Spanish production Pieces (1982), were not done milking the slasher craze cash cow. They went to England and tried ringing in the yuletide season by wringing some horror out of it with Don’t Open till Christmas.

It has to be stated up front that this is not a good movie. Randall and Minasian’s much-maligned and outrageous Pieces is a masterpiece in comparison. Despite the fact that these producers had already dabbled in the genre, it seems as though they were not very focused on figuring out how to rip off slasher films by learning what worked about them. That laziness or ignorance could have yielded some satisfying variations. Unfortunately, Don't Open till Christmas only contains the handful of ornaments that the moneymen and trend-followers thought should trim any horror film. Perhaps the idea was that anything with blood, boobs, and a lot of kills would be distinguished by its Christmas theme. However, other fright flicks had already raised hell on the holidays with more style, more interesting characters, and more satisfying plots.

A large share of the blame must belong to the succession of directors that this film went through before it was completed. Star Edmund Purdom began the direction on the film. Then at least three other people also directed scenes to finish the production. As a result, we are left with something that seems to be assembled from unrelated pieces. Even within certain sequences of a victim being stalked, it seems as if some of the footage that would help establish a scene or movement through a setting is missing or was never shot. Was this due to filmmaker incompetence, some footage being unusable, production delays resulting in not having the time or money to get the needed footage, or the chaos of a stop-and-start production going through so many directors that there was a lack of planning to get all of the needed shots? 

Another problem for this film is that none of its characters are the least bit interesting. The character we should have the most empathy with is Kate Briosky (Belinda Mayne), the daughter of an early Santa-suited victim in the story. Although she does prove to be the film’s most proactive character as she tries to discover some background about a person she has suspicions about, her scenes, like most others in the film, are not given much conflict or intrigue. She never gets a chance to distinguish herself as a character of any interest. No one else seems to have a life of any interest either. They are just supposed to move in front of the camera, say lines, and kill time between the mostly unrelated stalking-of-Santas scenes. 

In another example of the catch-as-catch-can scenes that make up this film, there is a musical cameo by former Hammer horror films beauty and Bond girl Caroline Munro. She plays herself performing a song with a band on stage during another stalking Santa sequence. Then she is never to be seen again. 

Don’t Open till Christmas does have a pretty substantial body count, but nearly every victim is a completely anonymous person. We don’t ever get to know them before they are wasted. Despite the variety of kill techniques, the murders usually seem rather perfunctory, because most of the victims are just a series of red-suited targets ready to be picked off. 

The one interesting kill scene works because there is a bit of word play between the performer (Kelly Baker) in a peep show booth and her shy Santa-suited customer (Wilfred Corlett). We become interested in the situation and are anticipating what kind of show this sexy girl might perform when we get the jolt of the killer striking again. 

Don’t Open till Christmas has one interesting distinction that contradicts one of the criticisms often directed at slasher films: The girls that get naked are going to get it. In this film one lovely lady is actually spared by the killer because he ogles and appreciates her naked beauty. Conversely, a later victim is denuded and left on display only after she is killed. 

Speaking of naked beauty, at the top of my wish list is Pat Astley as Sharon, the nude model that works up most of my interest in this flick. I am forever grateful she did not wait until Christmas to unwrap her prize package. Ultimately, the rest of Don’t Open till Christmas goes over like a lump of coal.

10 TO MIDNIGHT (1983)

Director: J. Lee Thompson

Writers: William Roberts, J. Lee Thompson (uncredited)

Producer: Lance Hool, Poncho Kohner

Cast: Charles Bronson, Andrew Stevens, Gene Davis, Lisa Eilbacher, Wilford Brimley, Geoffrey Lewis, Robert F. Lyons, June Gilbert, Jeana Keough (as Jeana Tomasina), Paul McCallum, Katrina Parish, Shawn Schepps, Bert Williams, Sydna Scott, Ola Ray, Iva Lane, Kelley Preston, Cynthia Reams, Cosie Costa, Barbara Pilavin, Beau Billingslea, James Keane, Carmen Filpi, Jeane Manson, Patti Tippo, Kyle Edward Cranston, Lynette Harrison, Jerome Thor, Breck Costin, Deran Sarafian, Neal Fleming, Daniel Ades, Shay Duffin, John Garwood, Beth Reinglas, Monica Ekblad 

In Los Angeles, Warren Stacy (Gene Davis) is a young, handsome loner that works in an office repairing typewriters. He stalks and kills a co-worker (June Gilbert) that rejected him. This victim was the daughter of friends to Homicide Detective Leo Kessler (Charles Bronson). The case becomes very personal to Kessler, who is increasingly frustrated with the legal restrictions that hamper his investigation.

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In the '80s, the Cannon Group churned out plenty of exploitation flicks in various genres. One of their biggest stars was Charles Bronson. He was always featured in violent crime thrillers that capitalized on the Bronson movie reputation he established as vigilante Paul Kersey in 1974’s Death Wish. 10 to Midnight again has a Bronson character dealing with the frustration of a legal system not able to deliver the certain justice that he desires. This time around, Bronson’s Homicide Detective Leo Kessler is part of that system. 

This crime thriller was probably influenced by the popularity of the early '80s slasher horror films, but this is not just a body count movie. The villain here is a serial killer whose identity we know all along, and it is this familiarity we have with his methods that holds our interest. We see Warren Stacy’s careful preparation to establish his alibi before he sets out on his deadly mission early in the story. Then our interest is maintained wondering how long he can get away with murder when Detective Leo Kessler almost immediately zeroes in on Warren Stacy as the main suspect. I guess Warren leaving porno mags and one weird-ass sex toy in his bathroom must be a dead giveaway.

Some snooty critics think that Bronson was just coasting along on his performances in this and many other films he starred in at this point in his career. I think he is just right in 10 to Midnight. Of course, he is CHARLES BRONSON. That gives him an immediate authority that he does not have to strain to achieve with his audience. Some guys just got it and that is certainly the case with Bronson. His character of Detective Leo Kessler is certainly sympathetic. He is dedicated to getting his man for all the right reasons, and we know that he should succeed if justice is to be served. The conundrum here is how far should he go to nail Warren Stacy? We have witnessed Stacy committing his crimes but Kessler has not. Kessler may have great instincts deciding that Stacy is the perpetrator he is after, but there is not much real evidence to back up his assumption. 

Gene Davis makes for a very offbeat villain as Warren Stacy. He is well-mannered, poised, fit, and clean cut. When being interrogated he seems almost childish as he tries to excuse his boyhood transgressions. Unfortunately, he has the inappropriate habits of streaking, stalking, and stabbing. Warren Stacy’s murderous rituals are his sexual outlets. 

Andrew Stevens, as Kessler’s rookie detective partner Paul McAnn, gains our sympathy as much as Bronson. After some initial friction, McAnn works well with Kessler and openly admires him. Yet young McAnn is still a by-the-book cop and has some doubts about the conduct of his older and bitter partner. This becomes the central issue of the whole film and gives the audience something to ponder after the end credits roll. His concerns are further complicated by his budding relationship with Kessler’s daughter Laurie.

As Laurie, Lisa Eilbacher is the terse chip-off-the-old-block daughter of Leo Kessler. Even though she resents her father’s career-before-family past, she shares his directness and somewhat confrontational humor. Her character helps to humanize our impression of Bronson’s Kessler and gives him greater urgency to stop the killer. 

My favorite performance is by Geoffrey Lewis as Defense Attorney Dave Dante. I love the way he coaches Warren Stacy before their court appearance. He represents the sleazy side of the court system that fills Kessler with so much bitterness. However, Dante also forces Kessler’s partner McAnn (and the movie audience) to contemplate the burden of proof that is necessary for a fair, if imperfect, legal system to function. 

This was the fourth of nine films that director J. Lee Thompson made starring Charles Bronson. The director of the acclaimed The Guns of Navarone (1961) and the intense and controversial Cape Fear (1962) was not getting much respect for his work in the '80s, but the old pro’s talent made his genre films efficient, slick, and entertaining productions. 

10 to Midnight has gained a cult reputation over the years. It straddles the line between horror and police procedural. It is further distinguished by the sexualized violence of its killer. Almost everything Warren Stacy does is his compensation for failing to have normal relationships with women: obscene phone calls are how he courts his victims, he showers and primps as if he is getting ready for a date before he sets out to do his stalking, he is nude when he consummates his conquest by penetration with a knife, the “rubbers” he wears are not for pregnancy prevention but are rubber gloves that prevent identification of him from fingerprints.

Many critics condemned 10 to Midnight in its day. It has the lurid elements of sex and violence that make any exploitation film a target for those wanting to blame the movies for society’s ills. Critics may have also had a real problem with the story’s conclusion. This movie’s climax is even more thought provoking today. While it is surprising and dramatically satisfying, it also leaves us wondering what we really want to happen next.

GHOST WORLD (2001)

Director: Terry Zwigoff

Writers: Daniel Clowes, Terry Zwigoff (adapting Daniel Clowes’ Ghost World comic book stories)

Producers: Liane Halfon, John Malkovich, Russell Smith

Cast: Thora Birch, Scarlett Johansson, Steve Buscemi, Brad Renfro, Bob Balaban, Illeana Douglas, Stacey Travis, Dave Sheridan, Brian George, Ezra Buzzington, Tom McGowan, Pat Healy, Debra Azar, T.J.Thyne, Rini Bell, Dylan Jones, Ashley Peldon, David Cross, Bruce Glover, Teri Garr  (uncredited)

Best friends Enid (Thora Birch) and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson) are two contrarian girls that have just graduated high school. As they are both coming to grips with starting adulthood, Enid befriends a much older, eccentric, music buff named Seymour (Steve Buscemi). Enid’s growing relationship with Seymour strains her friendship with Rebecca. 

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In the late '80s, Daniel Clowes became my favorite contemporary cartoonist. He first created a series of surreal stories in a retro world of the late '50s about a hip and hapless detective named Lloyd Llewellyn. He followed that up with his eccentric anthology comic book series Eightball. Clowes’ work is unique and often bitingly critical. He fixates on the moronic and sometimes unfathomable quirks of popular culture and social attitudes. His Ghost World story was serialized in issues of Eightball.

As soon as I heard that Daniel Clowes’ work would be adapted to film, I knew I had to see it. I was absolutely delighted with the result. Frankly, I remembered very little of the Ghost World comic book stories, so the film made a pretty fresh impression on me. This may come as faint praise from this retro reprobate that disdains much of contemporary popular culture, but heed me when I proclaim that Ghost World is the best film of the twenty-first century! Okay, so I admit it’s also one of the few films that I have seen made in this century. However, that praise IS coming from the man that can discern the merits of neglected masterpieces such as Frankenstein Meets the Space Monster (1965) and Cauldron of Blood (1967), so I must know what the hell I am talking about. 

Since director Terry Zwigoff had made the acclaimed documentary Crumb (1994) about the famous underground comix artist Robert Crumb, adapting the stories of another out-of-the-mainstream cartoonist seems like a natural progression. Clowes and Zwigoff are a match made in pop culture purgatory. They seem to share a quirky, sardonic, and morose simpatico that makes the Ghost World film so unique. 

This dramedy is a coming of age story that does not give us character arcs resulting in triumphant resolutions. It is not teen-centric pandering stroking a youthful audience into believing they have all the answers and that their cynical affectations make them strong. Ghost World deals with that uncertain limbo between adolescence and adulthood. 

The reason that we care about teenagers Enid and Rebecca is that they are interesting personalities. They reject the shallowness and conformity of most of their peers while they are both fascinated and amused by the oddballs in their world. They strive for individualism that will suit them, even as they are frustrated with a world that will impose responsibility upon them. 

Thora Birch is just wonderful as Enid. She is perceptive, sensitive, impulsive, and funny. She may be rude at times, but she is also introspective and confused. We can’t help but empathize with her as she suffers the presence of her ineffectual father (Bob Balaban) and all the louts that she encounters.

Scarlett Johansson, as Enid’s best friend Rebecca, is the terse and stoic counterpoint to Enid’s whimsy and volatility. When Enid refers to herself as cute in an old childhood photo, Rebecca’s response absolutely slays me. Rebecca does share a lot of Enid’s contrarian attitudes, but she seems to be more pragmatic about accepting that the “real world” will demand decisions and responsibilities. 

All around these two funny and frustrated girls are the many strange characters that conform to the silly and dehumanizing world around them. However, conformity does not keep people from becoming puzzling weirdos or grotesque louts. Ghost World is loaded with hilarious performances in roles large and small. 

The one oddball that becomes the most sympathetic character in the movie is Seymour (Steve Buscemi). He is an office worker and loner that obsesses about his old-time blues and jazz record collection and has general contempt for most of contemporary society. He is the victim of an anonymous prank Enid perpetrates. Once Enid meets Seymour, she finds a kindred spirit in the middle-aged man’s eccentricity and nonconformity. 

Melancholy looms over all of the humor in this story. We fear that the demands of dreary adulthood in a shallow culture will destroy the nonconformist idealism of Enid and Rebecca. Now that’s a horror that this fright flick junkie just can’t handle.

DEATHTRAP (1982)

Director: Sidney Lumet

Writers: Jay Presson Allen, Ira Levin (original stage play)

Producer: Burtt Harris

Cast: Michael Caine, Christopher Reeve, Dyan Cannon, Irene Worth, Henry Jones, Joe Silver, Tony DiBenedetto, Rev. Francis B. Creamer, Jr., Jayne Heller, George Peck, Al LeBreton, Perry Rosen, (and as themselves) Jeffrey Lyons, Stewart Klein, Joel Siegel 

Renowned mystery playwright Sidney Bruhl (Michael Caine) has just witnessed the disastrous Broadway debut performance of his fourth flop in a row and is wondering if his career is over. Sydney receives a first draft of a new play called Deathtrap from Clifford Anderson (Christopher Reeve), one of his writing seminar pupils asking for advice. Sidney sees the makings of a hit in the novice’s script, and his wife Myra (Dyan Cannon) suggests that Sidney collaborate with the new writer as a way to get over his slump. However, Sidney also sees a chance to regain his former glory by getting rid of Anderson and claiming Deathtrap as his own. 

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With this director and cast adapting an Ira Levin play, Deathtrap was dead certain to be fiendishly fun entertainment. The plot is twisty, the dialogue is witty, and the metastory makes the characters and the audience consider how plotting a play or a crime are interchangeable talents with the same problems to solve.

Most of the action takes place in the Bruhl couple’s picturesque East Hampton home with just a handful of characters. I assume that this is a pretty faithful adaptation of Ira Levin’s original stage play, as one can see that the small cast spending most of the time inside the Bruhl home would suit a stage presentation. This makes us focus entirely on the writing and performances that are the most important elements in any worthwhile drama. Both of these elements make Deathtrap into a terrifically entertaining comedy-thriller. 

Michael Caine is certainly sympathetic in his plight as Sidney Bruhl. He seems to have the ideal life of a famous playwright working in the privacy of his unique country home of a converted windmill. He has a proud display of the many weapons and props used in his hit plays. His lovely and wealthy wife Myra is devoted to him. Yet Sidney sees his prestige and livelihood slipping away from him because of his recent string of failed plays. Our very first sight of Sidney Bruhl is a chilling close up that displays the intensity of the shame and rage he feels watching his latest work dying on stage during opening night. We are immediately convinced that Sidney Bruhl will react drastically. 

Sidney’s initial reaction involves getting really plastered at a Broadway bar. Later he humorously vents his fear and frustration to his supportive wife who fails to reassure him. When Myra gives Sidney the package he has just received containing the terrific first play by one of his former students, it is not long before we see another patented, reptilian Michael Caine glare. This time there is cold-blooded, opportunistic fervor in Sidney’s gaze that even his adoring wife can’t miss. 

Once Sidney agrees that maybe Myra is right to suggest meeting with young Clifford Anderson to discuss a playwriting collaboration, the plot is in full gear. We are sharing Myra’s suspicions about what her husband has in mind; suspicions we are all too eager to believe and that she can’t quite bring herself to accept. 

Dyan Canon is a lot of fun as Myra. She is trying her best to get Sidney to avoid committing murder without directly accusing him of that intention. Sydney’s bread-and-butter for years has been dwelling on such things in his mystery plots. She can’t tell if her husband is just indulging in a what-if flight of whimsy or if he is really ready to regain success as a playwright by killing and claiming his victim’s work as his own. 

Fresh from his success as the title hero of Superman (1978) and Superman II (1980), Christopher Reeve is great as the eager and aspiring writer Clifford Anderson. This character is a real change of pace for Reeve, to say the least. He completes the trio of characters that provide most of the conflict in the story. 

Much of the credit for the quality of Deathtrap belongs to Ira Levin who wrote the original hit stage play that this film adapts. The novelist that managed to wring fear, suspense, and irony out of big city apartment life in Rosemary’s Baby and suburban tranquility in The Stepford Wives (both also adapted into fine films) seems to be having even more fun with the idyllic small town life in Deathtrap. At the core of all three of these stories is the pursuit of an ideal lifestyle. Status and success are the goals that lure Levin's characters to commit evil acts. 

I know that director Sidney Lumet is one of those “important” directors, yet I must confess that I have not seen much of his work. However, I love his adaptation of the Agatha Christie mystery classic Murder on the Orient Express (1974). Deathtrap seems to be one of Lumet’s less revered films, but it is the most entertaining genre film one could hope for. It has laughs, suspense, surprises, and great performances. As Sidney Bruhl says, “Even a gifted director couldn’t hurt it.” Lumet and everyone else involved really knock ‘em dead with Deathtrap.

BASKET CASE (1982)

Director: Frank Henenlotter

Writer: Frank Henenlotter

Producer: Edgar Ievins

Cast: Kevin Van Hentenryck, Terri Susan Smith, Beverly Bonner, Robert Vogel, Joe Clarke, Diana Browne, Bill Freeman, Lloyd Pace, Richard Pierce, Ruth Neuman, Sean McCabe, Kerry Ruff, Dorothy Strongin, Ilze Balodis, Chris Babson, Tom Robinson, Maria T. Newland, Florence Shultz, Mary Ellen Shultz, Constantine Scopas, Sydney Best, Charles Stanley, Johnny Ray Williams, Yousej Abuhamdeh, Lubi Kirsch, Catherine Russell, Mitchell Huval, Noel Hall, Bruce Frankel, Pat Ivers, Emily Armstrong, Russell Fritz, Jerry Butler (uncredited), Frank Henenlotter (uncredited) 

Duane Bradley (Kevin Van Hentenryck) is a young man that relocates in New York City from upstate. He rents a cheap room in the sleazy Hotel Broslin. He is stalking and killing doctors with the assistance of the strange being that he keeps in a large wicker basket, his deformed twin brother Belial.

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Basket Case contains everything that the jaded horror buff is looking for and more. In addition to its unique monster, gore, and humor, it has an eccentric and likable cast of characters in an environment so seedy it is fascinating.

This was writer-director Frank Henenlotter’s feature-length film debut. Having grown up watching all of the exploitation films he could in New York City’s once sensationally sordid 42nd Street theaters, Henenlotter seems to have distilled that entire atmosphere into the settings and subject matter of Basket Case. As a result, we are given a film with a distinctive style and a visceral sense of place that makes it really come alive. It shocks, teases, amuses, and involves the viewer in ways that most genre fare these days cannot even approximate. Over-budgeted, hyperactive spectacles meant to appeal to every attention span-challenged customer all over the world will never feel unique and sincere. 

Kevin Van Hentenryck’s Duane Bradley character has an appealing naïveté and perhaps a tinge of madness. Born as a Siamese twin conjoined at the side to his deformed brother Belial, and raised in isolation by his ashamed father, it is no wonder Duane’s personality seems a bit odd. An operation meant to separate the “normal” Duane from his brother Belial did not eliminate the twins’ mental and emotional attachment. This is a very weird case of brotherly love demanding vengeance. Because the doctors left Belial for dead after the separation operation, the twins’ agenda is certainly a sympathetic one, even if it involves murder. 

After its nasty opening scene, Basket Case takes us to the seamy side of New York City. We follow along with young Duane Bradley as he lugs along his wicker basket to find lodging at the dilapidated Hotel Broslin. Duane is really out of his element being in the big city for the first time. The kooky and colorful cast of fellow residents at the hotel form a bizarre community. You may never want to live in a joint like this, but it would never be boring. 

Things get off to a very tantalizing start when Duane is welcomed with a wink from his voluptuous neighbor Casey as she is bringing a “john” back to her room. Before long she introduces herself to Duane and suggests that they get a drink together sometime. Who says New Yorkers are unfriendly? Beverly Bonner is very vivacious as Casey, and she reminds us that people in even the most disreputable circumstances can still have character and humanity. 

A real standout in the cast is Robert Vogel as the volatile and humorous manager at the Hotel Broslin. He spends most of his time doing crowd control herding his curious and frightened tenants back to their rooms after each alarming disturbance in and around Duane’s room. 

Terri Susan Smith plays Sharon, Dr. Needleman’s funny receptionist that becomes Duane’s love interest. She is another slightly odd and appealing character. Unfortunately, she also appeals to Belial. 

Aside from ogling Beverly Bonner and Terri Susan Smith, the greatest joy I derive from Basket Case is Dr. Needleman’s awesomely ramshackle office. Now THIS is art direction! The place doesn’t look fit for cleaning fish, much less being a doctor’s office. However, this décor suits its owner perfectly; check out Lloyd Pace as the sleazy Dr. Needleman at his desk jamming a huge, greasy mass of food into his mouth just before he is about to conduct a medical examination. 

Belial himself is one of the most original horror movie menaces ever. A nice touch is the telepathic bond that he has with Duane. This allows us insight into the mute creature’s character based on Duane’s vocal responses during their conversations. In the tradition of many classic movie monsters, Belial is sympathetic. He may perform horrendous deeds, but he has grievances and human feelings that motivate him. 

Like directors George A. Romero and Tobe Hooper before him, Frank Henenlotter delivered a cult classic with his very first horror film. Basket Case is as daring, offbeat, and original as those earlier masterpieces, and it should be just as revered.

THE TINGLER (1959)

Director: William Castle

Writer: Robb White

Producer: William Castle

Cast: Vincent Price, Philip Coolidge, Judith Evelyn, Patricia Cutts, Daryl Hickman, Pamela Lincoln, William Castle (as himself), (and the following uncredited actors) Bob Gunderson, Dal McKennon, Gail Bonney, Pat Colby, Amy Fields, Leon Alton, George DeNormand, Clarence Straight, Richard Barthelmess (in silent movie footage), Ernest Torrence (in silent movie footage) 

The effects of intense fear on the human body fascinate pathologist Dr. Warren Chapin (Vincent Price). During some autopsies, Chapin has found shattered vertebrae that he thinks are the result of an organism that is dormant inside the human spine until intense fear stimulates its growth. Chapin dubs this theoretical creature “the tingler” in reference to the tingling sensation one feels in their spine when frightened. A series of Chapin’s experiments try to detect this strange parasite. Once he is presented with just the right kind of corpse, Chapin is able to extract the living and dangerous proof of his theories. 

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The Tingler is fun and creepy with one of the most outrageous and imaginative concepts in any horror film. It predates the “body horror” series of sci-fi features from the Canadian director David Cronenberg by sixteen years. This in no way diminishes the grand and gruesome accomplishments of Cronenberg’s thought-provoking horror film canon. However, it must be noted that this 1959 William Castle film, while striving to be nothing more than a crowd-pleasing fright flick, is distinguished by its very original menace.

This story also has an offbeat vibe due to its small cast of three very different couples: the odd, middle-aged couple of Oliver Higgins (Philip Coolidge) and his germ phobic, deaf mute wife Martha (Judith Evelyn) who own the movie house showing silent films; the contentious couple of Dr. Warren Chapin and his sexy, wealthy, cheating wife Isabel (Patricia Cutts); and the happy, young couple of Dr. Chapin’s lab assistant Dave Morris (Darryl Hickman) and Isabel’s younger sister Lucy Stevens (Pamela Lincoln). All of the other characters in the film are bit parts, and most of them have no dialogue. 

The more I watch this film the more I appreciate Vincent Price’s performance. As mercurial as some of his behavior seems in this story, it is always justified by the situations and his objective. This adds of bit of audience uncertainty as we are unsure of whether to categorize his Dr. Chapin as a “good guy” or a “bad guy" for a good portion of the film. Price is portraying a character with a wacky theory he is trying to prove that has him treading dangerously close to mad scientist territory. We wonder just how far his ethics go. He comes across as the nicest guy around, yet he can toss off wicked and well-deserved quips at his unfaithful wife. Their scenes are my favorites in the film. At one point Price is wielding a pistol with a baleful glare that would do Dr. Phibes proud.

The Tingler boasts not only an innovation in the monster department, but is also the major motion picture debut of LSD. Price’s performance is undeservedly often only remembered for his freak out scene under the drug’s influence. His Dr. Chapin character shoots himself up to induce the fear reaction he needs to feel to help him understand the ultimate terror needed to rouse the tingler.

The story by Robb White is one contrivance after another to keep us guessing just where the hell it is all going. The film provides a series of set pieces and gimmicks that cumulatively result in an atmosphere of irrational terror that both the tingler and the horror crowd thrive on. 

Director-producer William Castle was in the midst of his series of horror films that included an added element of gimmicky showmanship in the movie houses where they were shown. The gimmick he used for The Tingler was called Percepto. It was accomplished by having buzzers attached to random seats in the theater. At the most frightening moments in the film, the buzzers would be activated to vibrate the seats beneath viewers giving them an added “tingle.” No doubt, this would produce some of the loudest screams in the audience. One has to wonder if the Percepto gimmick was first conceived and then the film story concocted to fit with it. 

The Tingler pulls out all the stops to throttle its audience with break-the-fourth-wall gimmicks. The film itself features some addresses directly to the audience. William Castle himself opens the film with an introduction that sets up the later Percepto gimmick. He states that The Tingler will innovate by making more sensitive members in the audience experience the physical reactions that the film’s characters do. Those “sensitive” people had the misfortune to park their asses in Percepto-prepped seats. No doubt during the planned Percepto assault, the film’s story involves the tingler getting loose in a movie theater. At that point in the film, the screen goes black and Vincent Price is heard telling the movie house audiences in both the movie world and the real world to scream for their lives, as screaming is the tingler’s kryptonite. 

Perhaps the best stunt in the film is during its scariest sequence. There is an isolated bit of color appearing during this black-and-white film that makes everyone take notice. 

With its dysfunctional relationships, oddball characters, panic attacks, plot twists, an outrageous monster, and broken boundaries between its medium and its audience, The Tingler ends appropriately with an unsettling, open-ended climax. In his crass enthusiasm to thrill and chill, William Castle leaves us with an exercise in hysterical and irrational fear.