Review: City of the Dead

On the advice of history professor Christopher Lee, student Venetia Stevenson travels to Whitewood, Massachusetts to research a local witch burned at the stake many years ago. Once there, she discovers that the town’s cursed legacy and sinister goings on might not exactly be restricted to just the past. Patricia Jessel is the ominous landlady of the hotel Stevenson stays at, whilst Betta St. John is a more genial local bookstore employee, and deep-voiced Valentine Dyall is another Whitewood local.

 

Also known as “Horror Hotel”, this creepy, atmospheric flick from director John Llewellyn Moxey (whose resumé is otherwise mostly filled with a lot of TV work) is pretty much the film I expected the overrated and dull “Carnival of Souls” to be. It could’ve even been a near-great film, if not for the cheapo jazz score by Douglas Gamley (Amicus’ go-to composer with scores for “Asylum”, “From Beyond the Grave” etc.), and a lack of Christopher Lee in more of the film. The latter is obviously a bigger issue than the former.

 

Armed with a fairly decent American accent, Lee’s the best performer here by a mile. His mixture of utter seriousness and a master class in false geniality and politeness are great to have around. Unfortunately, he’s gone for a large chunk of the midsection of the film, and the young leads are mostly pretty bland. Why hire a guy like Lee and give him barely anything to do? I guess he was hired for marquee value here, having just come off a couple of star-making turns for Hammer (“The Curse of Frankenstein”, “Horror of Dracula”). The best of the young ‘uns by a country mile is Betta St. John who has a sweet Teresa Wright quality about her. Her character might be a little too innocent and ignorant to be entirely believable, but she’s a lovely presence to have around nonetheless. Sadly, she retired from films after this film, though the now 91 year-old is still alive as of December 2020. Also fine are the very Dame Judith Anderson-esque Patricia Jessel, and the deep-voiced Valentine Dyall (a British TV veteran, who is one of several Brits pretending to be Americans here, perhaps in a misguided attempt at overseas appeal) as more sinister members of the local town. The opening scene is bloody marvellous, your typical witch trial stuff, with this old crone going out swinging in quite the curse-riddled tirade against the townsfolk. The “Omen”-esque chanting over the opening credits is chilling, too. Why couldn’t we have had more of that and less of the jazzy shit? Also to be commended is the stark, wonderfully foggy B&W cinematography by Desmond Dickinson (“Hamlet”, “A Study in Terror”). Mood and atmosphere are definitely this film’s chief selling point, as the plot is fairly standard and the characters a mixed bag. The fog in particular seems to be a sinister character all of itself, albeit not as prominently as in John Carpenter’s “The Fog”. In a way, the plot is a bit similar - but obviously lesser to – “The Wicker Man”, one of Lee’s best-ever films (the narrative structure also has a “Psycho”-vibe to it as well, though this film was well into production before “Psycho” apparently).

 

Scripted by George Baxt (the not-bad “Circus of Horrors”), this one’s a pre-Amicus offering from producers and Amicus founders Milton Subotsky and Max J. Rosenberg, with the former having written the story behind it all. It’s a little hokey at times, but atmospheric and creepy enough that if you were to view it all alone late at night on TV, you might have a little trouble sleeping. It’s no “Black Sunday” of course, and it needs more Christopher Lee and less of that awful music score. It looks absolutely sensational however, and definitely worth seeking out, especially if you’re an Amicus horror fan.

 

Rating: B-