02Nov
At last, I’ve seen “The Abominable Dr. Phibes”
Okay…so I’m really late to the table with this one. For whatever reason, I was avoiding it…even though it starred Vincent Price…even though it was an American International “higher budget” film…even though everyone who loves this sort of thing has been raving about it ever since it first came out in 1971…even though it’s a HORROR COMEDY for f&%k sake…
I had a cold (thank Odin it wasn’t COVID…really, I checked) this past summer (can you believe it? Summer is now in the past), and I finally watched this movie on YouTube, on my laptop, in bed.
I love this movie. For all the reasons I listed above in the first paragraph…all the reasons I should damn well love it…I do. Warning…many spoilers ahead…but I think that even if you know what happens, you’ll still really want to see this wild movie (maybe you’ll actually want to see it more, if you don’t already know the joy of watching this wackiness already)…
It opens with a fabulous big band show tunes set a la Hollywood 1920s gone Halloween as a Phantom of the Opera type character rises from the depths somewhere dramatically playing the organ. This is, of course the Abominable Dr. Phibes, and his cloak is not only black, it is shiny! The organ is lit up red, the show-stopping costumes and costume changes for Dr. Phibes’ lovely assistant Vulnavia are fantabulous, and there’s a clockwork Big Band orchestra like you’d see in a 1920s nightclub ballroom, if the world was run by robots. They are of Dr. Phibes’ invention, as are many other over-the-top machines that look like they belong in a 1950s science fiction movie.
American International really splashed some cash on this one.
The film is set in the 1920s, but the overall feel is that of Art Deco meets the 70s. If Alice’s Wonderland was the roaring 20s but a touch more macabre, this would be what it would look like.
I love the 1926 Rolls Royce 20-horsepower touring car that Phibes drives around in—having images on each rear passenger door and the rear window of the Rolls (of Dr. Phibes at appropriate angles as if he’s sitting in the back, which he is, but we’re seeing the sketches, rather than him through the window) is very artsy, especially for American International.
The plot concerns Dr. Phibes’ revenge upon the surgeons (the head surgeon being Dr. Vesalius, played by Joseph Cotton) who were unable to save his wife—Dr. Phibes himself is horribly mutilated from the car accident—he is scarred, and forced to speak through his throat via an audio connection to a phonograph. He has spent years plotting a biblical plague type murder based upon the 10 curses upon the Pharaohs, for each doctor and nurse who participated in her unsuccessful surgery.
Offscreen there is a plague of boils via hundreds of stinging bees. But we first see the second murder—a plague of bats unleashed upon one doctor as he sleeps in his bed. They are fruit bats, but who cares, right?
I must take a moment of appreciation for the comedic team that make up Scotland Yard, particularly the lead, Inspector Trout (played by Peter Jeffrey). There’s this ridiculous moment where one of his officers is crawling atop a wardrobe in the second victim’s bedroom, as if he were a cat with a magnifying glass, searching for clues related to the murder-by-bats.
Next is the frog curse/plague—this time carried out by a killer frog mask at a roaring 20s masquerade party.
After that, we have the blood plague, inflicted upon another surgeon who has a bit of a porn fetish (love seeing the hand-cranked projector used to project the images of a stripper and snake dancer on a sheet he has set up in the office of his gaudy mansion). This is also the scene, after Dr. Phibes has drained the victim of all his blood, when on his way out, he does a double-take at a not so classy nudie painting hung in the room. So distasteful!
The rest of the plagues/curses involved a contraption of Dr. Phibe’s invention creating enough hail to freeze a man to death (and it’s the simplicity of all these plots that make them so elegant 😂), rats on a plane (pause for a dance with Vulnavia along with a sip of champagne through the neck), murder by goring by a brass unicorn head shot from across the street into the lobby of a building (and into the latest victim, under Scotland Yard’s inept protection in that exact moment), the pouring of brussel sprout juice to spur on the attack of locusts upon the head of the nurse victim (having taken a sleeping pill to block out the anxiety of Scotland Yard’s vigorous police protection, once again)—the insects leave her with nothing but her hair and skull, then the kidnapping of Dr. Vesalius’ first born (only) son. The boy is then subjected to surgery by his own father to extract the key from his chest, close to his heart, that would unlock the harness around his neck. He is under anaesthetic, on a gurney, under yet another fabulous contraption—on this occasion, a time-release acid slowly descended through tubes, making it’s way gradually to a point right over the boy’s head. Fear not! His father performs the surgery and releases his son in time.
This stuff must have inspired some of Jigsaw’s games in Saw…really.
Vulnavia burns down as much of Dr. Phibes’ devices and decor down before Scotland Yard’s arrival as possible, but she cannot avoid the acid drip originally meant for Dr. Vesalius’ son. Dr. Phibes descends to the depths, from whence his organ would rise, to fulfil the final plague (darkness) and meet his well preserved wife in a coffin built for two (with mirrors along the sides and ceiling of the coffin…classy!). He hooks himself up to yet another, final (for now!) contraption with a good deal of tubing that swaps out his blood for embalming fluid…not to kill him, no, but rather to preserve him—to keep him in suspended animation, as presumably he has been doing to an extent with his wife’s body, in hopes of some day being able to bring her back to life. How do I know this? The sequel—Dr. Phibes Rises Again, of course! But that’s for another blog…
How in God’s name did Phibes have time to place the key to the halter holding down Vesalius’ son to the operating table inside his son’s body, close to his heart, anesthetize him, and prep him for surgery after slow-releasing all those locusts on the brussel sprout juice covered nurse? How did he manage to invent all those fantastical contraptions and machines when his PhDs are in music and theology? How does Vulnavia have time for all those costume changes? And how does a man, albeit a man with knowledge of music and acoustics, manage to recreate his own voice after mutilation from a terrible car accident through the use of a cable that plugs into his throat, then into various phonographs? Never mind recreating his voice, but being able to wax on and on so poetically between scenes! And how does the embalming fluid not kill Dr. Phibes close to instantly? Magnificent!
Make no mistake—this film knows what it is. It is a horror-comedy. All of these questions and more are meant to be asked. It is a ludicrous romp that you can’t help but love.
Another side note…the director and a lot of the crew working on this film, were also involved in the Avengers TV series (1961-1969) at the time. So, if you get that vibe from the movie, now you know why.
A demented trumpet version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow plays over the end credits (at least, in these circumstances it feels demented—normally, I’m sure it’s quite lovely and less funny), and after the final titles, the logos are punctuated with the classic Vincent Price laugh…mwah ha ha ha! Perfection!
Okay, so because I only saw "The Abominable Dr. Phibes" this past summer, there's no way this film could have influenced a book (and the play before it) that I wrote a few years ago, but other American International classic films, particularly those wonderful crown jewels that were the Corman-Poe cycle, definitely DID influence "Horror at Terror Creek" ... so, you're for sure going to want to get your own copy of this novella.
