The masque of the red death

Roger Corman had been postponing for quite a while the start of this seventh adaptation of a Poe short story (after The Fall of the House of Usher, The Raven…) fearing he might be criticized for plagiarism of the Seventh Seal. If such a macabre scene with the great hieratic hooded reaper may be somewhat reminiscent of Bergman, then such a connection would be thoroughly unconvincing. In sharp contrast to the Swedish master’s austerity, luxuriance reigns here instead. The Masque Of The Red Death is the first film Roger Corman shoots outside of the United States; it is also one of those rare occasions when the budget, like shooting time, is quite comfortable. Nicolas Roeg, later showing himself with David Lean and Truffaut, signs for his first feature-length film a photograph where we see him just having a ball. The color red in the title is far from being the only one featured: green, purple, black, white, and bright yellow cover the walls of the castle’s chambers with large monochrome pans, also splashing every element of the set to let each and every costume’s textile resonate further. Visual splendor, therefore, and all the more striking that the story, in its free play with two novellas borrowed from Poe, is dark, and even terrifying. With Vincent Price at his best as a cruel, cynical lord, adept of Satan, The Masque Of The Red Death is actually a tale about the practice of power. This is no doubt one of the finest introductions to master Corman’s oeuvre: we are looking forward to welcoming him and honor him this year at the FID. (JPR)