Dale: Verity, I watched The Skull last night — 1965, British, Amicus Productions, Peter Cushing. You know, the usual recipe: a dignified man encounters something that absolutely should not be in his house.
Verity: And he keeps it anyway.
Dale: Oh, he cherishes it. It’s a skull — allegedly the Marquis de Sade’s. Which is already a red flag the size of a cathedral. But Cushing plays a collector, which in British horror translates to “this man is about to make a series of polite, doomed decisions.”
He buys the skull. He displays the skull. He does not smash, bury, salt, or otherwise discourage the skull.
Verity: So the failure point is immediate.
Dale: Precisely. And the skull doesn’t even do anything dramatic. It doesn’t glow. It doesn’t chatter. It doesn’t roll across the floor like a mischievous coconut. It just… sits there. Watching. Waiting. Applying pressure like a thought you didn’t invite but now can’t evict.
Verity: A passive anomaly. Those are the worst. They rely on the victim to complete the circuit.
Dale: Exactly! The horror isn’t in action — it’s in presence. The idea that some objects are so saturated with history that they become hostile by default. And Cushing carries the whole film reacting to that realization with increasing restraint. It’s practically a one‑man séance.
Verity: Minimal dialogue?
Dale: Barely any. Mostly Cushing staring at the skull as if it’s remembering things at him. If you’re waiting for action, you’ll be disappointed. But if you’ve ever looked at an antique and wondered what it witnessed before you were born, this movie will ruin your evening.
Verity: So the skull becomes a character.
Dale: Oh, absolutely. Inert. Accusing. Inevitable. It doesn’t chase you — it doesn’t have to. It just exists in the room with you, and that’s enough to dismantle your sanity.
Verity: A study in psychological contamination.
Dale: A masterclass. And a warning: collectors, obsession, and the fatal belief that knowledge equals safety. I recommend it — but not while sitting near antiques, mirrors, or anything that has outlived its original owner.
Verity: Then you watched it in the wrong room.
Dale: I realized that halfway through.
— Dale
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