I did prefer the Corman-Price-Poe collaborations Pit and the Pendulum, The Raven, The Fall of the House of Usher and especially The Masque of the Red Death. His climactic reveal – not only of his ability to rise from his wheelchair but also the shattering of his Vincent Price mask – is the stuff of cinema legend (as wonderfully shocking, perhaps, as Lon Chaney’s Phantom or Al Hedison’s insect parts from “The Fly”) – and a striking precursor to his abominable Phibes.For me, House of Wax is a very good movie, but I am not sure if it is Price's best horror film. Fortunately, the finale is loaded with thrilling stunts.įar more enticing is Price, who can’t help but to be perfect as an evil mastermind, tossing about ominous stares and deceptively gentle chatter. Strangely, despite the brief running time, extra padding appears with an extended dance hall sequence (again, something to make use of 3D techniques), a sluggish police investigation, and Sue’s unconvincing romance with artist Scott Andrews (Paul Picerni). If these gimmicks weren’t enough, “House of Wax” also exploits the era’s 3D capabilities via superfluous scenes of objects being thrust toward the screen. Plus, the film includes the silliness of a guillotine enactment an explanation of embalming fluids that make the bodies in the morgue move on their own and a grunting, muscly, mute assistant (played by a then unknown Charles Bronson), as if Frankenstein’s lackey. “I just don’t understand how it can seem so real.” Adding to the unsolved crimes is a chamber of horrors as a new House of Wax is erected, this time devoted to torture and execution, but with the added nastiness of an innovative wax-coating procedure – itself rooted in death. “Have you turned your back on beauty?” In the vein of Universal’s classic horror pictures, the mystery of the marred killer plagues the authorities but not the audience, as they’re surely well aware of who is responsible for the slayings. Thanks to exceptional makeup effects, the monstrous murderer gets to be a continual source of visual fright, rearing his scarred face frequently as plenty of light bounces across it. Like a phantom from an opera, Price stalks his prey, though here he’s unafraid to regularly show off his deformed visage. Meanwhile, Cathy’s good friend Sue Allen (Phyllis Kirk) struggles to secure a job, finding herself in hot water with the landlord – and then with Jarrod, as he pursues everyone connected to his old partner. But Jarrod returns, cloaked in black to conceal his hideous disfigurement from severe facial burns, and he’s expectedly hellbent on revenge. Burke’s girlfriend, Cathy Gray (Carolyn Jones, brandishing an impossibly thin waist and a most obnoxious little giggle), is delighted to hear of the eventual settlement, immediately planning a marriage and honeymoon. Matthew escapes, but struggles to collect the insurance claim due to a lack of a body when it comes to his missing – but presumed dead – partner. Over the immoral proposition, a fistfight breaks out – along with Burke’s blaze, melting the statues in a spectacularly grotesque introductory sequence. But Jarrod’s sculptures are like his children he would be devastated to have to start from scratch again. Rather than waiting for an offer, he opts to burn the place down for the hefty insurance payout. Visiting art critic Sidney Wallace (Paul Cavanagh) poses an opportunity to buy out Burke’s share, but Matthew is impatient and opportunistic. “Do you really hear what they say, Jarrod?” Business partner Matthew Burke (Roy Roberts) tires of Henry’s failures at advertising and promotion, insistent that the money could flow in if he focused on more exciting works. He’s most proud of his Marie Antoinette, followed by a staging of Lincoln’s assassination, Joan of Arc, Antony and Cleopatra, and many others. Erie yet historical wax sculptures adorn the turn-of-the-century New York museum of Professor Henry Jarrod (Vincent Price), who works tirelessly to craft pleasant personas – not the horrifying stuff that sells tickets at competitor establishments.
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