The House That Dripped Blood (1971)

Anthology films are often hit and miss.  Using 90 to 120 minutes to introduce new sets of characters and separate plots leaves a filmmaker - or filmmakers - with very little cinematic canvas to work with and, as a result, a miniscule margin for error.  To further complicate the construction, anthology films often utilize a framing plot to bridge the short films together, eating up further screen time to provide the narrative glue to a diverse set of stories that can, on occasion, embrace a wide range of aesthetic options.  Peter Duffell's The House that Dripped Blood (1971), a British horror anthology produced by Hammer rival Amicus Productions (who also produced anthologies based off of the EC Comics series Tales from the Crypt and Vault of Horror), is no exception to the hit and miss rule.  Yet, it comes in - for the most part - on the winning side of the equation. 

The framing story kicks off the film:  Scotland Yard Detective Inspector Holloway (John Bennett) arrives in the English countryside to investigate the disappearance of horror film star Paul Henderson (Jon Pertwee), who recently purchased a sinister looking manor that, as Holloway discovers, has a dubious past.  While investigating Henderson's disappearance, Holloway, with the help of realtor A.J. Stoker (John Bryans) uncovers the mysteries that previously plagued the inhabitants of the house that dripped blood, providing the transition into the film's four stories.   

The first short, entitled "Method for Murder," chronicles the plight of horror writer Charles Hillyer (Denholm Elliot).  Hillyer has purchased the house so that he and his wife Alice (Joanna Dunham) can work in peace in a secluded abode.  Charles finds the house to be an artistic muse for his tales of horror (Who wouldn't!  It has a copy of Lotte Eisner's The Haunted Screen and a skull, afterall!) and begins penning a thriller about a psychopathic strangler named Dominic (Tom Adams).  Charles draws a gruesome portrait of the antagonist, initially pictured in his "mind's eye," that he keeps in the drawer of his desk under a pack of cigarettes and a consistently filled highball glass of scotch.  As the writer finds himself more and more obsessed with the story Dominic - and more intoxicated - he begins to be haunted by visions of his creation stalking the grounds of the house.  One evening, Charles discovers Dominic strangling Alice, who promptly assures Charles that it was not Dominic attacking her but Charles himself.  Charles begins to doubt his sanity and the fabric between reality and his twisted fiction begins to tear apart. 

"Method for Murder" is a mediocre start to the anthology.  Denholm Elliot, who viewers may recognize from his role in the Indiana Jones films, provides a relatively strong performance as the fraying writer.  Moreover, Duffell's atmospheric direction and the camera work and lighting of Ray Parslow do a solid job of setting the mood on a tight budget.  The problem with the segment is the Twilight Zone-esque (1959-1964) twist at the end.  Essentially, the short takes a bold left turn in the last few minutes, pulling a formation out of the Diabolique playbook that introduces a subplot that places emphasis on characters whose motives blind side us.  In theory, it's a perfectly fine twist that is fails to land because of the brevity of the film:  character motives require characterization which, aside from Charles, have not been supplied.  In the end, Duffell would have had a stronger start if he had cut the final reveal. 

The second film, "Waxworks," ramps up the characterization a bit.  Retired businessman Philip Grayson (Hammer legend Peter Cushing) has purchased the sinister house for the premiere destination of his retirement.  While walking through town one day, he discovers a wax museum called the "Museum of Horrors."  Inside the museum, Grayson finds himself transfixed by a wax figure of Salome that reminds him and his friend Neville Rogers (Joss Ackland) of a lost lover.  Their romantic infatuation with the wax figure, however, draws the ire of the establishment's proprietor (Wolfe Morris), who modeled the figure off of his late wife.  There is a visual poetry to this segment, which features a quiet performance by Cushing as his desires are rendered via elliptical edits and Schubert's "Death and the Maiden."  It's a beautiful, gothic short that could have benefitted from a few more minutes of screen time. 

The third film, "Sweets for the Sweet," is the real highlight here.  John Reid (Christopher Lee) is a stern widower who has purchased the house so that he can hire Ann (Nyree Dawn Porter), a live-in tutor, to work with his young daughter Jane (Chloe Franks).  Told largely from Ann's point-of-view, the film initially portrays Reid as an authoritarian father who refuses to reward his daughter with even the simple luxury of children's toys.  As Ann becomes closer to Jane, her compassion for the repressed girl increases.  One day, she purchases her student a doll, which John angrily throws into the fireplace, saying that he is only trying to protect the family from the dark tragedy that robbed him of his wife and has cursed his child.  This film is the strongest because it not only uses limited narration in order to cope with the brevity of the episode but the strong performances of Lee (who uses his typecasted role as a means of short hand, only to surprise the viewer in the end - watch for him reading a copy of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings) and Franks to toy with our initial conjectures and suspicions. 

The final film, "The Cloak," might have been successful in another anthology but largely falls flat here because of it's tone.  Unlike the previous three films, "The Cloak" is tonally tongue-in-cheek, featuring former Doctor Who Jon Pertwee as the missing horror actor that the inspector in the framing story is looking for.  Well, we soon find out how he disappeared.  Hired to star as a vampire in a low-budget horror film, Paul Henderson moves into the house (are you sensing a pattern yet?) and, when he arrives on set, becomes infuriated with the hokey set design, the costumes, and the script.  Much of his dialogue provides a comic, meta-commentary on the film we are actually watching.  For instance, he praises Bela Lugosi's portrayal of Dracula while blasting that other, unnamed, actor (referring, of course, to Christopher Lee).  Unhappy with his costume, Henderson seeks out his own authentic cloak at a nearby costume shop that causes him both to turn into a vampire and to attack his buxom co-star (Ingrid Pitt). 

"The Cloak" segues back into the framing story and concludes the film in an uneven fashion.  The first three films do a relatively strong job of setting up a gothic and gloomy atmosphere whereas the final segment turns everything into a joke.  The tone is further exaggerated by Pertwee, who takes his performance to the level of a meat that comes between two slices of bread.  This might have been a good short film, with some tonal volume control, to come in the middle of the film, providing a breezy intermission between "Waxworks" and "Sweets for the Sweet."  As it stands in final form however, it sticks out like a sore thumb, especially when it segues into the framing device which is radically different in tone.  Perhaps the ideal fix would have been to cut it completely, leaving the film with three shorts and framing device with a bit more breathing room.  Still, "Waxworks" and "Sweets for the Sweet" are very solid shorts (the film was written by Psycho scribe Robert Bloch) and the film makes for a fun and creepy (albeit not particularly horrific) experience.