In the '70s, when it came to horror anthologies, Amicus was king, their films boasting superbly constructed stories with gloriously demented twists, the wonderful casts featuring plenty of familiar faces. With a mixed bag of tales and a cast of relative unknowns, independent anthology The House of the Dead cannot hope to rival the likes of Tales From The Crypt and From Beyond the Grave, but it can hold its own against some of Amicus's lesser portmanteau films.
The wraparound story concerns Talmudge (John Ericson), an adulterous plumbing salesman returning to his hotel after an evening in the arms of his lover. After a taxi-driver drops him off in the wrong part of town in the middle of a torrential downpour, the bedraggled businessman accepts refuge from an old man (Ivor Francis), who invites him into his place of work. The old man explains that he is a mortician, and tells Talmudge the stories of the deceased people currently residing in his establishment.
The storytelling doesn't get off to a great start, with a weak tale about a child-hating teacher, Miss Sibiler (Judith Novgrod), who finds herself terrorised in her home by someone or something unseen. At the end of the story, her assailants are revealed to be creepy children with malformed teeth. The suspense is well handled by director Sharron Miller, but Novgrod is prone to over-acting, which undermines a lot of the good work. The ending is this tale's ultimate undoing: it's not clever, the visuals are horribly dated (a cheap-looking 'negative image' effect), and the origin of the malevolent kiddies is never explained.
The next tale is even worse: photographer Growski films his dates with several women, all of which end in murder. There is nothing more to the tale than a series of killings, followed by the revelation that Growski was executed for his crimes. There's zero attempt at a satisfying conclusion, making it nothing more than a waste of time.
Thankfully, the story behind corpse number three is far more fun. Two eminent detectives - brash American private investigator Malcolm Toliver (Charles Aidman) and stuffy British policeman McDowal (Bernard Fox) - compete for the title of the world's greatest criminologist. Two wonderful performances and a witty script make this one very entertaining, and even though the final twist isn't hard to guess, we should be thankful for the fact that they actually tried this time.
The final story is also one of the best, telling of office-worker Cantwell (Richard Gates), whose uncaring treatment of his fellow man is met with poetic justice. Trapped in a deserted building, Cantwell falls down a lift-shaft, is trapped in a doorless and windowless room, and tortured with a sliding wall full of spikes. His only sustenance are the bottles of wine rolled into the room through a gap under one of the walls. When he is finally released from his personal hell, Cantwell has been reduced to the same level as the drunken homeless man he so rudely ignored earlier.
The film ties things up in a predictable but satisfactory manner, with Talmudge becoming the mortician's next 'client'.
The wraparound story concerns Talmudge (John Ericson), an adulterous plumbing salesman returning to his hotel after an evening in the arms of his lover. After a taxi-driver drops him off in the wrong part of town in the middle of a torrential downpour, the bedraggled businessman accepts refuge from an old man (Ivor Francis), who invites him into his place of work. The old man explains that he is a mortician, and tells Talmudge the stories of the deceased people currently residing in his establishment.
The storytelling doesn't get off to a great start, with a weak tale about a child-hating teacher, Miss Sibiler (Judith Novgrod), who finds herself terrorised in her home by someone or something unseen. At the end of the story, her assailants are revealed to be creepy children with malformed teeth. The suspense is well handled by director Sharron Miller, but Novgrod is prone to over-acting, which undermines a lot of the good work. The ending is this tale's ultimate undoing: it's not clever, the visuals are horribly dated (a cheap-looking 'negative image' effect), and the origin of the malevolent kiddies is never explained.
The next tale is even worse: photographer Growski films his dates with several women, all of which end in murder. There is nothing more to the tale than a series of killings, followed by the revelation that Growski was executed for his crimes. There's zero attempt at a satisfying conclusion, making it nothing more than a waste of time.
Thankfully, the story behind corpse number three is far more fun. Two eminent detectives - brash American private investigator Malcolm Toliver (Charles Aidman) and stuffy British policeman McDowal (Bernard Fox) - compete for the title of the world's greatest criminologist. Two wonderful performances and a witty script make this one very entertaining, and even though the final twist isn't hard to guess, we should be thankful for the fact that they actually tried this time.
The final story is also one of the best, telling of office-worker Cantwell (Richard Gates), whose uncaring treatment of his fellow man is met with poetic justice. Trapped in a deserted building, Cantwell falls down a lift-shaft, is trapped in a doorless and windowless room, and tortured with a sliding wall full of spikes. His only sustenance are the bottles of wine rolled into the room through a gap under one of the walls. When he is finally released from his personal hell, Cantwell has been reduced to the same level as the drunken homeless man he so rudely ignored earlier.
The film ties things up in a predictable but satisfactory manner, with Talmudge becoming the mortician's next 'client'.