Film: Theatre of Blood (1973) [Douglas Hickox, Dir.]

Matinees! Just when you had given up on your matinee manager, i return!

A genre hitherto untold at this theatre of ours, 'tis horror and gore. And not just any horror will do--but something eery, ridiculous and literary and in that vein--we shall visit the Theatre of Blood.

My dear Matinees, your humble manager and projectionist has a sister, Coco of whom she is quite devoted and of whom horror films rarely pique her interest. Virgo season is Coco's birthday, so we have a two part homage to Coco and here is entry one in that love fest. Coco has not yet visited the Theatre of Blood but i have selected this entry in her honor, because while she doesn't go horror, the girl knows and loves Shakespeare. Merrie-landers born and bred, we actually geeked out at the Folger's Library in D.C. and Coco knew some serious monologues in her day. And that my dear film nerds is where we begin our tale...

For anyone who has ever suffered professional criticism, this is your revenge flick. Edward Lionheart played by ghoul maestro Vincent Price in one of his favorite roles, is an actor who was denied the Critic's Circle Award of 1970 in favor of a young talent. Lionheart, a Shakespearean thespian who had--in his eyes--a brilliant repertoire of 12 Shakespearean plays, decides to use those plays as motifs and wreak havoc on each of the critics who denied him that hard earned glory.

Lionheart is aided by his daughter Edwina Lionheart, the always gorgeous and often naughty Diana Rigg and a motley crew of ghouls, with the righteous shades-wearing Stage Manager as their leader and Lionheart's right hand man.

Fans of British film and BBC television will giggle recognizing the familiar faces whose names you never quite remember, but whose eyebrows you can't forget.

Robert Morley as Meredith Meredew

Milo O'Shea as Inspector Boot

Ian Hendry as Peregrin Devlin,

our "hero" critic

(because seriously, we are rooting for the Lionheart gang)

Each critic suffers a fate following a character from the requisite play, as re-interpreted by Lionheart and Company. When watching the performance of Cymbeline, note the sweeping strings.

The deaths are notable in technique and swiftness---i was surprised by how quickly the torture is over. And while that kills the spookiness, it allies you with the killers, not the victims. For the dying are not a sympathetic lot, truly.

I highly recommend you finish snacking your concessions by the last 40 minutes.

The lighting of the film is the product of your manager's acknowledged favorite decade, and the gore is interlaced with a mocking, playful tone from all the actors and even a gentle hamminess from Price. Ironically, the British politeness and Shakespearean allusions make you forget you are watching a "horror" film and then suddenly, open heart surgery and gore. The music is ironically light and breezy.

Will this erudite horror seduce Coco and her Casa de Broco swain? For she knows a good monologue as well as Vincent (every death is further punishment to those critics as he bestows on each a passionate monologue). We shall have to wait and see...

Particularly delicious to me is the idea of retribution for a petty bourgeois of privilege whose hobby is criticizing the creativity of others. Watch your back, phoneys!

Note: For those of you who seek more intense chills over theatrical banter, fear not. I have an Italian horror film in the queue that is more dangerous than Theatre of Blood. But perhaps? Less fun...TOB is truly a matinee horror. Daylight and the Bard. Make a pot of tea, suck on your Turkish Delight, and wrap up into the fake blood and elitist gore.

If we shadows have offended

Think but this - and all is mended -

That you have but slumber'd here

While these visions did appear

And this weak and idle theme,

No more yielding but a dream~

-A Midsummer's Night Dream

Sunday Matinee does not recommend watching trailer before viewing,

suspense is everything!

IMDB