FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE: Blu-ray (Amicus, 1974) Warner Archive

A quartet of distinctly English tales of the macabre – more tepid than intrepid – are on tap in director, Kevin Connor's From Beyond The Grave (1974); hardly, the Citizen Kane of anthology pictures, owing as much to the Brit-based and ensemble-directed classic, Dead of Night (1945) – albeit, without its finesse and overall cohesion to bring these disparate stories together for one slam-banger of a finish -  as, in hindsight, it seems to have kick-started a popular cycle in omnibus picture-making states-side: everything from Creepshow (1982), and, The Twilight Zone: The Movie (1983) to the U.S. reboot of Tales from the Crypt (1989).  From Beyond the Grave even has its own distinct take – nee, rip-off on Dead of Night's 'Haunted Mirror' sequence (a.k.a. The Gate Crasher) whereupon an unsuspecting Edward Charlton (David Warner) invokes the spirit of a deadly specter (Marcel Steiner) from an ancient looking glass during a séance. This wicked master goads Charlton to murder unsuspecting women, leading to his own eventual self-destruction.  Peter Cushing is tragically wasted as the picture’s master of ceremonies; curator of a little seen, though frequently patronized London shop of antique oddities, certain to undo the unsuspecting consumer fascinated by their back stories.  Talk about ‘buyer beware!’  The screenplay by Robin Clarke and Raymond Christodoulou makes the least from R. Chetwynd-Hayes’ satanic riff on Captain Billy’s Whiz Bang; the stories, veering from the aforementioned darkly skewed demonic possession of an affluent swingin’ bachelor, curdled to the essence of a modern-day Jack the Ripper, to ‘The Elemental’ (Ep. #3), where a befuddled middle-aged manager, Reginald Warren (Ian Carmichael) is under siege from an invisible gremlin who threatens to murder his wife, Susan (Nyree Dawn Porter), but is thereafter driven from his body by a dotty clairvoyant, Madame Orloff (Margaret Leighton).  Sandwiched somewhere between, in tone and temperament, is ‘An Act of Kindness’; Ian Bannen’s unwitting Christopher Lowe, paying penitence for his generosity toward Jim Underwood (Donald Pleasance), an invalided war vet, reduced to peddling matches and shoelaces on the street corner, and, ‘The Door’ (Ep. #4), in which a young man, William Seaton’s (Ian Ogilvy) ambition to own a hand-carved egress inadvertently opens a porthole into its demonic past.

From Beyond the Grave marked the last of the anthology pictures made by Amicus, a Brit-based film company operating out of Shepperton Studios between 1962 and 1977, though ironically, founded by two Americans – producer, Milton Subotsky and screenwriter/producer, Max Rosenberg. Amicus’ portmanteau flicks were lucrative, beginning with Dr. Terror's House of Horrors (1965), followed by the Torture Garden (1967), The House That Dripped Blood (1971), Tales from the Crypt (1972), Asylum (1972), Vault of Horror (1973) and finally, From Beyond the Grave (1974). But in reviewing several others from this epoch, From Beyond the Grave really does – at least, in hindsight – seem to be scraping the bottom of the barrel for its thrills. The connective tissue here is lacking. There is no point to Peter Cushing’s appointment as ‘The Proprietor’ of these unholy relics, other than to capitalize on the actor’s then waning reputation as a Hammer house of horrors alumni, herein, utterly gone to seed. It’s sad, actually, to see Cushing, relegated to skulk and lumber about this congested shop of shadowy tricks, to test and tantalize his credulous clientele until they simply cannot resist the temptation to brutally derail their otherwise perfectly humdrum everyday lives. From Beyond the Grave is, I suspect, supposed to be a real bone-chilling experience. Sadly, it neither frightens nor even stirs the senses, but quietly breeds of genuine sense of finality for this last wave of ‘respectable’ suspense pictures, forced to indulge in a little blind-sided gore to lure in the ticket buyers. And yet, one has to admire Connor’s resistance here to become horribly immersed in mere blood and guts; instead, retiring mostly to the cobwebbed catacombs from another time in picture-making entirely. Drained of its color, one could almost mistake From Beyond the Grave as a 1940’s B&W programmer; its minuscule budget propped up by some good solid acting from a host of Brit-born thespians who have not forgotten how to entertain us – even when the material is beneath their talents.

After a brief tour of the cemetery under the main titles - Alan Hume’s heavily diffused cinematography undone by Douglas Gamley’s score, much too ‘on the nose’ to be anything less than campy cliché, we arrive at ‘Temptation Unlimited’ – the Portobello antique shop owned by Cushing’s nameless proprietor. Enter, Edward Charlton, who manages, with considerable ease, to knock down the price of a gilded mirror, suggesting it is a cheap reproduction. Inviting a few friends over to show off this cleverly acquired relic, Charlton elect to hold a séance. None of the attendees, even Edward’s most devoted friend, Pamela (Wendy Allnutt) believes what comes next. The candle in the center of the table ominously flickers; the mirror’s reflection clouds up with heavy fog. A face emerges, haunting Edward’s subconscious with the promise of stabbing him to death until he is startled from his trance with a scream. The others go home, unaware Edward has unlocked a porthole into some unholy netherworld; the shadowy figure contacting him again, and indulging Edward to murder a prostitute (Rosalind Ayres). Over the next several nights, the face commands Edward to continue his killing spree to satisfy his insatiable need for blood. He even proposes Edward slaughter Pamela, who has come to investigate what has become of her good friend. Hiding the bodies under the hardwood floor in his flat, predictably, the blood from these butchered remains soaks through to the flat downstairs, owned by cat-loving, Mr. Jeffries (Tommy Godfrey) who – even more predictably, becomes Edward’s next victim after he arrives to investigate the situation.  The face emerges from beyond the mirror, and, fully formed, compels Edward to impale himself on his knife. This suicide committed, the face departs, leaving Edward to be discovered at some later date. Time passes. We witness the flat being renovated and repainted while the mirror remains firmly affixed above the fireplace. The flat welcomes several new tenants; the last of these (Dallas Adams), very much the carefree bachelor Edward had once been. Encouraged by his friends to hold a séance, the young man prepares for a playful exchange that, as we have already seen will be anything but; only, this time, the face to emerge from the other side of the looking glass is Edward’s.

The second vignette in From Beyond the Grave is ‘An Act of Kindness’. We meet Christopher Lowe – a middle-aged henpecked husband, trapped in a loveless marriage to an emasculating harridan, Mabel (Diana Dors). Curiously, the couple’s young son, Stephen (John O'Farrell) appears to derive a queer sort of pleasure from quietly observing his parent’s bickering. Each day, as Christopher goes on his way to work in a meaningless middle management position, he passes the seemingly destitute street seller, Jim Underwood, who offers him a kind word and a box of matches, shoe-laces, and other knickknacks for a modest donation. Impressed by his war record, Christopher befriends Jim. Alas, he also lies about his own service record, buying the medal of a decorated war hero from the Proprietor and passing it off as his own. This leads to a polite – and seemingly innocuous invitation from Jim for Chris to come to his flat and meet his daughter, Emily (Angela Pleasance). Despite the girl’s rather odd and homely visage, Chris is immediately attracted to her. That night, as he prepares to bed down, Mabel shrieks, having witnessed in her dreams a mysterious ‘woman in black’ attacking her with a knife while she sleeps. Although Chris is momentarily empathetic toward his wife, increasingly, he finds reasons to stay out after work and seduce Emily…or is it the other way around? For Emily reveals she has made a voodoo doll of Mabel. Daring Chris to command her to cut the doll’s head with a knife, Emily then proudly declares she has murdered Mabel. Rushing home, Chris does indeed find his wife’s remains strewn near the upstairs banister. Far from being upset, Chris is seemingly overjoyed when Jim and Emily arrive. We fast track to Emily and Chris’ wedding day; the bride and groom – united and happy, preparing to cut the cake as Stephen and Jim proudly look on. Only, as Emily slices into the cake’s plastic figure of the groom, Chris begins to bleed profusely from the forehead. He collapsed dead as Jim assesses Stephen’s prayer – to be rid of his awful parents – has instead come to pass.

In Episode #3, ‘The Elemental’, a stuffy businessman in search of a snuff box, Reggie Warren (Ian Carmichael) switches tags on two boxes in the Proprietor’s shop, buying the more expensive one at the cheaper price. On the train home, a loony and self-professed psychic, Madame Orloff accuses Warren of having an invisible gremlin, known as an ‘elemental’ on his shoulder. The creature is devious – even wicked – and will surely undo Warren’s happy home if he does not immediately procure her ‘cleansing’ services. Ignorant of the truth in this, Warren shrugs off Orloff and arrives home, only to find his usually friendly German Shepard disturbed, barking incessantly before running away from home. Entering the kitchen, Warren is accused by his otherwise normal wife, Susan of having slapped her.  Later, as the couple prepares for bed, Susan is nearly strangled by invisible hands; again, suggesting Reggie is guilty of the assault. Believing he knows the origins of these attacks, Warren hires Madame Orloff to exorcise the ‘elemental’ from their home. After several attempts, Orloff is successful at ridding Warren of this devious creature who topples furniture and tears down curtains as it flees from the premises. The house returns to normal. Even the dog comes home. Only now, so does the ‘elemental’ – taking refuge inside Susan’s body. She attacks her husband, bludgeoning him to death with a poker from the fireplace before smashing through the front door.

In the final vignette, ‘The Door’ – a writer, William Seaton, purchases an ornamental entrance from the Proprietor at a reduced price. Will has plans to modify the door for a stationary cupboard. But Seaton's wife, Rosemary (Lesley-Anne Down) thinks the hand-carved door too grand for such a menial presentation. Upon touching its surface, Rosemary can imagine – perhaps - even see - what originally lay beyond it. Very soon, the door exerts a hypnotic fascination over Seaton, who opens it to discover a mysterious, and heavily cobwebbed blue room on the other side. Stepping beyond its boundaries into the netherworld on the other side, Seaton discovers the secret diary of Sir Michael Sinclair (Jack Watson), an evil occultist who created the door to trap those who transgress beyond it into his parallel universe, stealing their souls so he can live forever. Seaton manages to escape the room, but finds the door has since claimed other aspects of his home.  He and Rosemary are trapped. Under Sinclair’s hypnosis, Rosemary is compelling to open the door and re-enter the room. Sinclair appears and takes possession of Rosemary, mocking Seaton by tempting him to follow. Chivalrously, Seaton defends Rosemary’s honor, attacking the door with an ax, causing Sinclair’s realm to begin to crumble.  Sinclair struggles with Seaton while Rosemary continues to demolish the door. Upon destroying its hinges, Sinclair is reduced to a skeleton and, finally, dust. Seaton and his wife are spared.

In between each of these segments we are introduced to a shady figure (Ben Howard) who is casing the Proprietor’s shop. At the end of ‘The Door’ vignette, the man enters and persuades the Proprietor to let him examine two loaded antique pistols. Only now, he tries to rob the Proprietor, who refuses to be bullied. The thief shoots. But the bullets are powerless against the Proprietor. Staggering back, the thief is struck by a skeleton, tumbling into an odd coffin-esque device with spikes like an iron maiden. Impaled to death, the Proprietor pleasantly declares ‘Nasty’ before fiendishly beckoning the audience to shop his wares for the next ‘big novelty surprise.’ Thus, ends From Beyond the Grave on a decidedly ambiguous note. Whether or not the picture was intended to kick start a franchise to have continued with subsequent trips to Temptation Limited is unknown. What remains true enough about the movie is it never did the sort of box office producers had hoped.  In the U.K., Amicus served as the picture’s distributor, with Warner Bros. buying up the rights for its release state’s side. Hardly profitable, From Beyond the Grave faded quietly into obscurity and, in fact, never made its way to any home video format until a full-frame DVD release in 2007. And now, the Warner Archive (WAC) finds both time and budget to market the picture in hi-def on Blu-ray in its proper 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Predictably, the results are worth noting. WAC does some of its finest work on what I would sincerely suggest are some thoroughly odd executive choices made when delving into their back catalog of plentiful goodies. I would not rate From Beyond the Grave among Warner’s cherished library. But I can certainly see the marketing merits of its arrival on Blu-ray just in time for Halloween.

Color fidelity here is excellent. Given the picture’s practically non-existent budget, it looks rather solid on Blu-ray. Flesh tones veer towards a piggy pinkish hue without ever going overboard. Contrast is vastly improved, with deep blacks that show off Alan Hume’s rather pedestrian cinematography in its very best light. Fine details abound, and film grain – heavy, at times – is nevertheless, properly realized. This looks great, even if the content is less than stellar. We sincerely applaud WAC for its continued efforts to provide recent scans of their fine-grain master positives, as abundantly afforded additional cleanup. The DTS 2.0 mono accurately represents the movie’s vintage audio, again, afforded all the bells and whistles. Bottom line: From Beyond the Grave will not be everyone’s cup of arsenic. In point of fact, it emphatically was not mine. Nevertheless, WAC has achieved another outstanding 1080p transfer here that will surely not disappoint. Now, if we could only persuade WAC to give us such gems as Camille (1936), Marie Antoinette (1938), The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939), National Velvet (1944), Show Boat (1951), The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), Around the World in 80 Days (1956), Raintree County (1957), Reversal of Fortune (1991)…and on…and on…and on. But I digress – an occupational hazard for a movie lover and film critic. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

0