Horror Hotel: Witchcraft, Pagan Rituals & Cheap Special Effects
Why would I make such an observation and write this unapt preamble? Well, watching Horror Hotel last night substantiated the notion that this beloved genre of ours is more pietistic than uber-Christians would ever admit. Many of the film’s characters are dissenting scientists who scoff at those who study witchcraft. “It’s just a bunch of fairy tales,” they proclaim. Stories of thaumaturgy and the occult don’t seem so ridiculous when these same skeptics are affronted by incontinent Satanists.
Wordy tangents aside (hey, I need to “reflect” every once in awhile), this is a cool movie. It combines Hammer’s refined pedantry and Universal’s moody theatrics. The plot concerns a disquisitive student who travels to the small, colonial town of Whitewood to gather research material for a term paper. Of course, her paper is on witchcraft, and Whitewood’s history is brindled with witch trials. She never returns from her didactic retreat, however, which moves her loved ones to retrace her every step. Whitewood itself is the “horror movie” town.
Thick encrustations of fog; a dingy, doddering church; an augural, reposing graveyard; and nary a dartle of sunlight to ameliorate the darkness…this is my kind of place! The atmosphere is irrepressibly ominous, and the glowering B&W cinematography heightens the film’s baleful aura. Unfortunately, Horror Hotel is public domain, which means that it’s been reissued eight too many times. My DVD’s transfer is soft and murky, but I doubt that I’d luck into locating a copy whose image quality does the film any justice.
All of the characters are attentively developed. As a matter of fact, the film is so character-driven, that it takes the time to flesh out two empathetic heroines (and they’re rarely in the same scene together). Horror Hotel almost feels like two separate movies, with the first half placing emphasis on one set of characters and the second half focusing on another. Only one actor gets lost in the shuffle; just by glancing at the cover art, would you care to wager a guess as to which one that would be? Yep, Christopher Lee’s name is catheterized yet again.
He’s in a whopping total of three scenes, and never gets a chance to evince his outspread talent. He does what he does, and does it well. Coincidentally, this film is a precursor to The Wicker Man. Both cult classics involve a surreal locale, pagan rituals, a missing person, and Christopher Lee. I know it’s a touchy subject, but in my estimation, Wicker pales in comparison.
The villains are paradisiacally villainous. Patricia Jessel plays Mrs. Newlis, an iniquitous innkeeper. She delivers the requisite “evil laugh” with devilish verve, and had she not left us so early (she died of a heart attack in 1968), she would have made for a decorous scream queen. I have to mention Valentine Dyall’s performance as the mortiferous Jethrow Keane, a creepy backwoodsman who could pass as one of The Tall Man’s ancestors. It’s nice when the protagonists are endearing and the antagonists are alluring. We’re usually just dealt one or the other.
The finale kicked my ass with blighting suspense, shivery visuals, and pyrotechnics. Pyrotechnics??!?! Somehow, bouts of spontaneous combustion don’t feel out of place in such a subdued film. Horror Hotel‘s ineffable stillness is never disturbed. As temperate as it is, this overcast chiller glissades along at an even pace. It’s hard to believe that it was director John Moxey’s debut feature. I’d recommend it to Hammer fans, Amicus fans, and…well, horror fans.
