The Masque of the Red Death

Produced by American International Pictures and directed by Roger Corman, the seventh (sixth if we don’t count 1963’s hybrid “The Haunted Palace”) in Corman’s series of screen adaptations of the works of Edgar Allan Poe, “The Masque of the Red Death” is based on both the American writer’s macabre short story of the same name (1842) and another of his tales, “Hop-Frog” (1849).

Although many consider this film among the best of the series based on its subject matter (it deals with the corruptive nature of power, the way the strong oppress the weak, the strength of faith and love, and divine justice), it’s actually one of the films that’s aged most poorly over the decades – numerous sub-plots leave the work narratively uneven, and the film is further plagued by soporific pacing due to, among other things, its stage-like theatrical format.

Even the persistent references to Satan and Christianity begin to feel exaggerated, making Prince Prospero sound like some kind of dyed-in-the-wool devil worshipper in league with the forces of Evil. (“Through my mediation with my master… the Lord of Flies… you, all of you… unworthy though you may be… will be safe from the Red Death“). What’s more, everything is punctuated by declarations that are as overly dramatic as they are abstruse (stuff along the lines of: “Soon all the innocence will be gone… and then I will have immortality” or “I want to help you save your soul so you can join me in the glories of Hell“. To top it off, the whole thing is sandwiched between a pair of dreamlike, psychedelic tangents that immediately feel dated.

Finally, despite a noteworthy climax highlighted by a macabre dance performed by bloody victims who are on death’s doorstep, the power and intensity conveyed by the Boston poet’s words is reduced to that of a distant mirage (“And one by one dropped the revelers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all”).

As for the cast, the melodramatic Vincent Price hogs the spotlight with his outrageous showmanship (in the upcoming “Cry of the Banshee” by Gordon Hessler, the good Vincent gives us an encore with a carbon-copy performance); supporting role for the legendary Patrick Magee as the lewd, sadistic aristocrat.

Last but not least, the valuable contributions of two future genre-film directors merit a mention: Daniel Haller, whose artistic production demonstrates his customary diligence, and Nicolas Roeg, responsible for the vivid cinematography.