Theatre of Blood (1973) Revisited

Theatre of Blood (1973), is fast becoming the theme of the week, isn't it?  Seeing it again has set me thinking about it - how my reactions to it have changed over the years and how it fit into Vincent Price's filmography.  With regard to the latter, it represents the point at which, by Price's standards, his film appearances became less prolific, particularly in terms of horror movies.  Arguably, the film represents the absolute high point of his horror career.  Certainly, its immediate successor, 1974's Madhouse, was far less accomplished and something of a disappointment.  Theatre of Blood, of course, followed two other successful horror outings for Price, The Abominable Dr Phibes (1971) and Dr Phibes Rises Again (1972), both likewise filmed in the UK and featuring him as a flamboyant presumed dead artiste seeking vengeance via a series of themed murders.  Interestingly, while a continuation of the Phibes series was mooted (not to mention expected), no further sequels appeared.  Instead, we got Theatre of Blood, featuring a very similar set up, even down to the protagonist having a young female assistant, (in this case his daughter).  In many ways, Theatre of Blood can be seen as a faux sequel to the Phibes films, although made by a different team and production company.  Most notably, Theatre of Blood's location filming places its bizarre violence in a realistic context, giving it an edge lacking in the studio filmed and stylised  Phibes films.  Consequently, Price's performance in theatre, although as blackly comic as those in the earlier films, feels far sharper and more genuinely dramatic - the knowing campness that accompanied many of his best remembered performances is largely absent here.

I could only have been in my early teens, possibly a little younger, when I first saw Theatre of Blood on one of its then frequent TV outings.  At that tender age I simply accepted it on face value: that Ian Hendry was the hero and that Price's Lionheart was a deranged ham actor who couldn't take criticism and  whose actions, while ghoulishly entertaining for the audience, were reprehensible.  But, as the years went by and I saw it a few more times, it became apparent that it wasn't that simple.  The critics who meet their doom at Lionheart's hands are portrayed as arrogant, entitled snobs, with a complete disregard for the fact that their targets are human beings - their critiques, as read back to them by Lionheart before delivering the coup de grace, are snide and excessively cruel.  Lionheart's approach to Shakespeare might be 'traditional', old fashioned even, by seventies standards, but, as we see in the course of the film, he actually isn't that bad an actor.  After all, his various disguises and their associated performances fool the critics, with none recognising him until it is too late.  Moreover, his actual performances of various soliloquies from Shakespeare are delivered with real power.  How much all of this is intentional on the part of the film makers and how much is simply down to Price's enormous screen presence and natural charisma is a moot point - the end result is that you can't help but empathise with Lionheart by film's end, a man humiliated for the entertainment of the critics' acolytes and subsequently driven to madness.  As noted earlier, the film's climax with Lionheart reciting King Lear's final soliloquy while carrying his daughter's body (echoing the death of Cordelia), on the roof of a burning theatre, is curiously poignant - a man who has lost everything due to his own folly and madness.  That Hendry's surviving critic has the last word with his glib quip that Lionheart 'knew how to make an exit', seems only fitting - all the carnage that he must take at least some responsibility for, has done nothing to blunt his sense of  smug entitlement.

As well as being one of Price's best films, certainly his best horror performance, (superior, in my opinion, to his turn as Matthew Hopkins in the excellent Witchfinder General (1968) as it allowed him to demonstrate greater versatility), Theatre of Blood undoubtedly also stands as director Douglas Hickox's most accomplished film.  It was his only horror film, (unless one includes Behemoth, the Sea Monster (1959), which he co-directed with Eugene Lourie), in an eclectic career which ranged from a Joe Orton adaptation - Entertaining Mr Sloane (1970) - to episodes of Dirty Dozen - The Series.  Indeed, Theatre of Blood was sandwiched between tough Oliver Reed crime thriller Sitting Targets (1972) and John Wayne's US-cop-in-London flick Brannigan (1974).  Both, like Theatre of Blood, were largely filmed on location in London and featured a fast pace and excellently choreographed action sequences.  Neither though, have quite achieved the iconic status of the Vincent Price film.  It is well worth revisiting.