The House That Dripped Blood (1972) – DVD

**½/**** Image B Sound B Extras D+
starring Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, Nyree Dawn Porter, Denholm Elliot
screenplay by Robert Bloch
directed by Peter Duffell

by Bill Chambers Anthology films are by their very nature self-defeating–especially, it seems, when the individual stories are linked by a framing device rather than by a thematic spine. (The majority of Hammer also-ran Amicus' output vs. Pulp Fiction, for example.) As the Amicus production The House That Dripped Blood draws to a close, you can't contain the urge to crown a favourite chapter; the rest of the picture becomes a useless husk. Based on the works of Psycho author Robert Bloch, The House That Dripped Blood stars genre stalwarts Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, John Pertwee, and still others (including an unrecognizably young Joss "Diplomatic Immunity!" Ackland) in separate tales all set inside a gothic manse that, we determine from interstitial vignettes, is unloaded on some steel-nerved rich dude roughly once a week by shifty real estate agent A.J. Stoker (John Bryans).

Denholm Elliot plays a novelist who relocates to the titular abode with his wife (Joanna Dunham) in tow hoping to get a better feel for his current protagonist, a serial strangler, and the book's subject materializes in reflective surfaces to menace his creator–an enduring horror trope later seen in Martin Scorsese's episode of "Amazing Stories", "Mirror, Mirror." The then-recently-widowed Cushing, in a spectacular turn, stars as a heartsick retired banker looking to isolate himself in the titular residence; the most adventurously-edited episode (if full of dated, flower-power montage technique), Cushing's bears out to the strains of Schubert's Death and the Maiden, with the lonely old man discovering a wax museum near his home that exhibits an uncanny likeness of his lost love, whose lure proves tragically irresistible.

Lee shows up in the role of a widowed businessman with a priggish 10-year-old daughter (Chloe Franks) whom he forbids from engaging in social or recreational activities, to the befuddlement of a new governess (Nyree Dawn Porter) yet to see through the child's harmless façade. Lastly, former "Doctor Who" Jon Pertwee and the legendary Ingrid Pitt appear as cookie-cutter versions of themselves, prima donna B icons days away from starting their latest vampire picture together. When Pertwee becomes disenchanted with the production values at Shepperton, he purchases his own prop cloak from a cobweb-strewn curiosity shop–and soon discovers that the cloak-wearer succumbs to bloodlust. Pertwee is humbled by his fear of transforming into an honest-to-goodness monster, a great moral to the story of an egomaniacal actor in and of itself, and an interesting kink in the vampire mythos (the notion that vampirism is bequeathed). Unfortunately, the yarn keeps uncoiling…

At least three of these vignettes collapse in the end because of Bloch's juvenile sense of irony. Though it may have its roots in the astonishing Kwaidan, the Elliot segment, "Method for Murder," ultimately wouldn't be out of place on the shelf with Goosebumps, while "Waxworks"' one-two punch at the climax threatens camp overkill. And "The Cloak" is cheapened by Pertwee's sudden inability to differentiate between the cloak he purchased and an item off the Shepperton rack. Contrary to its sanguine title, The House That Dripped Blood is light on grue and probably, it occurs, geared towards giving kids their first dark-and-stormy night. Cushing, Lee, and Pitt are indelible as always, but only the Lee section fully coheres and is soaked through with the inexorable doom that tends to mark the best examples of the genre. Moreover, the archetypal and often atmospheric imagery of helmsman Peter Duffell and DP Robert Parslow doesn't quite masquerade the absence of regular Amicus director (and David Lynch's eventual cinematographer) Freddie Francis.

THE DVD
Lions Gate has acquired the rights to The House That Dripped Blood and surely supplants Prism's OOP VHS release with their widescreen DVD. Although the 1.85:1 anamorphic transfer is slightly overmatted (given its Euro roots, the film was probably intended for 1.66:1 projection) and the source print is far from pristine, definition is strong, with healthy skin tones de-emphasizing the picture's age. A loud stereo track is at bare minimum serviceable, with mild and inoffensive separation between the channels. A 7-minute interview with producer Max J. Rosenberg might very well be informative, but the Amicus co-founder's frail voice is rendered inaudible by the stupid choice to crank up the background music. It's the disc's only extra.