Playing on Svengoolie this weekend, The Comedy of Terrors.
Introduction
In the shadowy corridors of 19th-century New England, where tombstones whisper secrets and the scent of decay hangs heavy in the air, lies a tale that defies convention. “The Comedy of Terrors,” directed by the legendary Jacques Tourneur, is a delightful blend of horror, wit, and absurdity. With a cast that reads like a who’s who of macabre cinema—Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, Boris Karloff, and Basil Rathbone—this film dances on the edge of the grave, inviting us to laugh at death itself.
Plot Summary
Waldo Trumbull (played with devilish charm by Vincent Price) is an unscrupulous undertaker. His business thrives on the misfortune of others, but his true passion lies not in burying the dead but in drowning his sorrows in spirits. When a widow refuses to pay for her husband’s burial, Waldo and his bumbling assistant, Gillie (Peter Lorre), hatch a desperate plan. Their landlord, the wealthy Mr. Black (Basil Rathbone), becomes their unwitting target. But there’s a twist: Mr. Black seems to defy death, rising from the grave each time they attempt to dispatch him.
A Review
“The Comedy of Terrors” is a giddy romp through the graveyard. Vincent Price, in his element as the morally ambiguous Waldo, delivers a performance that balances wickedness with vulnerability. Peter Lorre’s Gillie is a delightful fool, and the chemistry between these two horror icons crackles on screen. The addition of Boris Karloff and Joe E. Brown adds to the film’s madcap energy.
Director Jacques Tourneur masterfully weaves absurdity into the fabric of the macabre. The graveyard scenes are both eerie and uproarious, and the dialogue—though occasionally silly—sticks in your head like a catchy tune. The film’s operetta-like quality, with characters clinging to life while embracing death, is a stroke of genius.
My Thoughts
Beyond the laughter lies a deeper exploration of mortality. “The Comedy of Terrors” invites us to confront death not with fear, but with a wry smile. It’s a commentary on the absurdity of our mortal coil, where even the most sinister figures can become unwitting jesters. The film’s vaudevillian spirit harks back to an era when death was both feared and celebrated—a dance between the grave and the gallows.
Conclusion
In the dimly lit parlors of horror cinema, “The Comedy of Terrors” stands as a testament to the power of laughter in the face of mortality. It’s a film that winks at the Grim Reaper, raises a glass to life’s absurdities, and leaves us chuckling long after the credits roll. So, dear reader, if you seek a macabre delight with a side of mirth, venture into the world of Waldo Trumbull and company. Just be sure to keep your sense of humor intact—even when the tombstones start to talk.
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