If you want to know why Ligeia is the most Hammer-esque of Roger Corman's Poe adaptations, check cinematographer Arthur Grant's records, among them The Devil Rides Out and Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed. The splendid photography alone makes the last entry in the series a standout, along with Kenneth V. Jones's lush, pseudo-Victorian score. Enter Corman/ Poe regular Vincent Price, this time an amateur egyptologist living in a decaying abbey mourning his deceased ex and soon after falling in love with a blonde lookalike of his dead spouse – who acts out her jealousy in feline form. All-too-conscious of not being in a Poe story, but in a delirium fusion of Vertigo and Rebecca, Price plays his perv Maxim de Winter/ Norfolk Necrophiliac role with a tongue-in-cheek aplomb Laurence Olivier garnered not until eight years later in Joseph L. Mankiewicz's Sleuth, and wait until Vince gets in cat chasing mood. Though a bit convoluted, Ligeia is morbid, meow & kinky fun, actually Corman's last noteworthy movie as a director (next was his racist swastika biker dreck The Wild Angels). And the darn critter? Moved on to Mario Bava, Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento flicks. That's called Hello Kitty déjà-vu.
Review of The Tomb of Ligeia
