Roger Corman's last attempted adaptation of a Poe story, and one of the best of them. As in the others, the original story, presumably too loggy and prosaic, serves just as the springboard for a flight of necrophiliac imagination. Good, somber use made of the green English countryside and the aging buildings; very indulgent use made of Vincent Price's pasty-faced anguish; exciting eruption of hysteria at the finish, with Price making like a lion tamer, cracking a whip at an uncanny housecat, and flames knifing toward the ceiling. Script by Robert Towne (Chinatown, Shampoo). (1965) — Duncan Shepherd
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