Review of The Comedy of Terrors

1963's "The Comedy of Terrors" brings together Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, Boris Karloff, and Basil Rathbone in a Richard Matheson satire designed to capitalize on the laughs generated by previous Poe entries "Tales of Terror" and "The Raven." Instead of speedy, free wheeling Roger Corman at the helm we get austere Jacques Tourneur, no specialist in comedy, whose heavy hand left everything up to the actors to make things work as they should, all well cast in their respective roles. Vincent Price naturally assumes the top slot as Waldo Trumbull, proprietor of a once thriving undertaking business that he has single handedly run into the ground ("where else?"), burdened by the presence of featherbrained wife Amaryllis (Joyce Jameson), whose singing abilities only manage to shatter every glass in the house ("the vocal emissions of a laryngitic crow!"). Peter Lorre plays bumbling assistant and partner in crime Felix Gillie, who cannot resist being a party to murder to keep up appearances due to his former profession as amateur locksmith and 'self confessed bank robber' ("I've never confessed, they just proved it!"). Boris Karloff is an absolute hoot as Amos Hinchley, deaf and senile father of Amaryllis, whose frequent asides to pass the sugar are topped by his complaints that they keep his medicine away from him, unaware that his son-in-law is actually trying to poison him. Basil Rathbone uses his considerable Shakespearean expertise as the penny pinching landlord Mr. Black, whose demands for prompt payment earn him a spot in one of their coffins, only to continuously deny them the pleasure by refusing to stay put due to his catalepsy (Lorre: "for a man in his condition, he certainly has a lot of energy!"). There's even a nice bit for longtime vaudeville veteran Joe E. Brown in his final screen role as the Cemetery Keeper with Irish brogue, including his trademark wide mouthed yelp with Rathbone's insistent corpse bent on revenge ("I regard your actions as inimical to good fellowship!"). All four stars have their moments to shine, Price as despicable a cad as one might expect, drumming up business by resorting to murder but relishing every juicy line for increased amusement. Lorre's illness means he is less animated than in previous titles (only five months before his premature death at age 59), frequently using a stunt double in Lorre mask for the more strenuous sequences. Karloff is the genuine find in a most atypical role, mostly kept on the sidelines except when called upon to officiate at Rathbone's funeral, forgetting who the guest of honor is by simply referring to the deceased as 'what's his name' or 'you know who' ("that's pretty good!"). Rathbone himself was taken aback at the realization that he was thought by many to have long since passed away, and in taking an on screen ax to his critics gets to chew the scenery in a fine showcase that perhaps eased his worries for the future ("you're dead, Mr. Black" "the hell I am!"). Apart from Tourneur's sluggish direction the picture only drags during some of its extended slapstick, and in the end Price's Trumbull never met a bottle he didn't drink!