For some reason I had made a note to watch this film again, but having done so I could not begin to tell you why. Mind you it is always something of a delight to watch Vincent Price, who although he has been in movies since the late 30s and was not always associated with horror films is always never less than watchable with his velvet voice of menace, even in rather disposable movies like this one.
In it he plays a horror icon called Doctor Death who went 'round the twist after his fiancee was decapitated and spent a number of years in the loony bin of the title. On his release he agrees to appear in some television specials to help out his old friend, financially-strapped Peter Cushing, an ex-actor who turned to screenwriting for the Doctor Death series. The series is being produced by Robert Quarry a former porn director whom Price blames for his slagging off his fiancee just before her death. We quickly are shown a cloaked and gloved figure murdering other bosomy blondes and are meant to assume that Price is still well and truly gaga; it doesn't take much of a Sherlock Holmes to guess the real culprit early on. One lovely part of this movie involves showing clips from some of Price's far better movies when he co-starred with two other horror icons Basil Rathbone and Boris Karloff; these serve to remind one of Price's very strange career.
A writer, a gourmet, an art collector, and a general bon vivant, Price had many more strings to his bow than just being a famous scare-monger. Yet he made a number of highly memorable movies, particularly with Roger Corman's Poe cycle. He was also an early inspiration for film-maker Tim Burton which can't be a bad thing either. So am I glad that I saw this movie a second time? Well, I must admit that it was worth it just to be charmed yet again by Price's elegance.
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