Join John Cribbs on a journey through the full run of HBO's early 90's horror anthology Tales from the Crypt. You might expect us to make a series of Crypt Keeper inspired puns here in our intro, but c'mon we can't compete with that guy. Instead, we'll simply say that there's no grand idea behind these episode-by-episode recaps, they were prompted by Cribbs' interest in delving into a series that he was not intimately familiar with in his youth.
In addition to being laden with heavy-hitters distinctly of the era like Demi Moore, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Robert Zemeckis, Tales from the Crypt features numerous Pink Smoke favorites like filmmakers Walter Hill, Rodman Flender, Steven E. DeSouza and Tobe Hooper as well as a wide variety of the kind of character actors that we love: William Sadler, Michael Ironside, Lance Henriksen, William Hickey, Grace Zabriskie, a rotating assortment of Paul Verhoeven regulars and even Dr. Giggles himself, Larry Drake. Hell, it's the early 90's so Morton Downey, Jr., Sam Kinison and Heavy D. even somehow end up figuring into it all.
Sorry: there's no delectable twist ending for this intro in which our sins are ironically and violently pointed back into our own faces. It's an intro to an episode guide.
{SEASON 1, EPs 1-3.}
{SEASON 1, EPs 4-6.}
{SEASON 2, EPs 1-2.}
{SEASON 2, EPs 3-5.}
{SEASON 2, EPs 6-8.}
{SEASON 2, EPs 9-10.}
{SEASON 2, EPs 11-12.}
Season 2, Episode 6: "The Thing From the Grave"
Director: Fred Dekker
Original air date: May 8, 1990
This is the most generic Tales from the Crypt so far. After a promising opening that has Miguel Ferrer sadistically shooting a poor unsuspecting bastard and burying him alive in a shallow grave, director Fred Dekker is just marking time until we can return to the scene of the crime so Miguel Ferrer can get chased by the reanimated corpse of his victim. Essentially the episode is a rehash of the last two: like "Three's a Crowd," it has a love triange, jealousy and murder, which results in a zombie pulling itself from the earth to plague the person who killed it a'la "'Til Death." The jaded lover angle works better here thanks to the reliable Ferrer taking over for fellow Twin Peakser Gavan O'Herlihy - it's always enjoyable to watch him tell someone to shove a camera up his ass. But the zombie is a disappointment after the impressive corpse bride from "Death" and epitomizes the episode with its unhurried pace and uninspired execution.
Drop Zone's Kyle Secor, who in this particular episode brought to my mind a soap opera version of Anthony Edwards, plays a cheesy fashion photographer who falls in love with vapid model Teri Hatcher. The two of them have all the chemistry of a cardboard box and an inanimate carbon rod, but at least Hatcher is good enough to sample ample pre-Lois & Clark cleavage. The first night they hook up, he randomly gifts her a necklace with the power of the Mayan God of Truth that will apparently allow him to protect her from creepy, Paul Snider-channeling boyfriend Ferrer no matter what. Would have been curious to see how the magical necklace would have followed up on that promise had Ferrer dropped Secor into a vat of acid or incinerated the corpse; since he merely shoots him in the gut and conveniently plants him within 50 yards of the isolated cabin where he plans to bring an abducted Hatcher, Ferrer is served to the vengeful carrion of Secor on a silver goddamn platter.
Once again, the show is weirdly schizophrenic about its backdrop. There are numerous props (television, phone) that are clearly meant to assign the setting firmly within the 1950's, yet sneakers, tops and a giant headshot of Teri Hatcher sheathed in heart-shaped neon pink betray its contemporary production. You figure the art designers worked hard on these episodes, only to have the crew shrug such meticulous preparation off when it came time to roll cameras on a very 1990-looking Teri Hatcher.
All the more reason Fred Dekker, who previously adapted "And All Through the House" and "Only Sin Deep," disappoints here: you'd think the man who successfully married 1930's carnage with 1980's action in The Monster Squad would be right at home in the Crypt. With the exception of the expert creepiness of Ferrer, there's little sense of joy here - even the flash-forward opening feels tacked on to stretch out the running time. The Secor-Hatcher affair comes off as just plain sappy rather than cheap romance novel pseudo-sappy that the show does so well. In fact everything between the Crypt Keeper's bookends reeks of rote. Honestly, if I had been watching this live back in 1990 without the foreknowledge of future great episodes, I very well might have assumed the series had hit a wall and given up on it at this point. C.
Season 2, Episode 7: "The Sacrifice"
Director: Richard Greenberg
Original air date: May 15, 1990
Stop me if you've heard this one before: a young, ambitious yet stifled insurance salesman meets a seductive femme fatale with a rich husband who's an enormous prick, but he just signed up for a huge policy naming her as the sole beneficiary so together they develop a plan to bump off the jerk and live happily ever after despite the wife's obvious moral turpitude. I'm sure the EC Comic plots lifted shamelessly from 1940's crime movies, yet made up for it with colorful panels and inventive variations on the original plot. Too bad the makers of "The Sacrifice" couldn't follow suit: after the salesman reveals the cute name of his little houseboat, the asshole husband responds, "I loved that when I first heard it 100 boats ago." Hard not to feel the same about this hackneyed story.
It's appropriate that this episode should follow "The Thing From the Grave," as both of them are lazy stories of doomed love triangles with lame twists that are saved by virtue of the villain being played by a consummate sleazeball character actor from the films of Paul Verhoeven. In this case, it's the one and only Michael Ironside who joins us mid-episode as if he were tagged into the ring during a match where the good guy's just been given The Neutralizer, destined for an express drop to slumberville. Does Ironside ultimately win the match? Well no, not with D-listers Kevin Kilner and Kim Delaney in his corner, and not with this material. He shows up just after the couple dispatch the husband to blackmail the wife in exchange for gross, humiliating sexual favors (at least one of his fantasy scenarios involving an audience of derelicts). This development would have taken the story into an interesting new area if a) it hadn't come completely out of left field and b) it weren't instantly obvious that Ironside and the wife are pulling a double-con and setting the insurance salesman up. Now all they have to do is wait for the guy to commit suicide and they'll get off scot-free. Wait - what??
Title designer and visual effects consultant Richard Greenberg doesn't bring much to the table here, despite coming off the Howie Mandel epic Little Monsters, his sole feature directing bid (he worked on Richard Donner's Ladyhawke, which I guess is how he landed this gig). Yet even with the episode failing as both a horror story and suspense piece, you'd think crime fiction author Ross Thomas (who wrote episodes of the anthology series Roald Dahl's Tales of the Unexpected) would at least be able to supply a plausible noir tale. You'd be wrong. The script is simultaneously cliched and non-sensical: we expect the calculated murder plot, the sinister double cross, and the ironic ending where one of the parrots condemns the schemers by reciting the dying pleas of the victim. Yet every one of these tired devices isn't even utilized correctly. The conspiring lovers base their clever plan to evade arrest on the fact that the husband didn't sign his new insurance contract. She still inherits all his money, but obviously since he wasn't set up for a new huge life insurance policy it couldn't possibly have been murder, and the cops are satisfied. Again, whaaaaaaat?
The only thing besides Ironside keeping this episode from ignoble distinction as all-time worst are the wraparounds with our host the Crypt Keeper. The outro is an oddly austere moment where C.K. hangs himself in solarity with the protagonist's suicide, almost poetically ruminating on the waste of life thrown away for false love. And in a similar romantic gesture, in the intro he implies that he's deflowered a goat?? That's a level of creepiness even Crypt shouldn't be hinting at. D.
Season 2, Episode 8: "For Cryin' Out Loud"
Director: Jeffrey Price
Original air date: May 22, 1990
Man, I'll be honest - I was pretty dispirited coming off the last three stinker episodes. Much as I appreciated their use of Migel Ferrer and Michael Ironside, I was worried about how long I'd have to wait for the series to get back on track. Turns out I needn't have stressed - things really pick up mid-season starting with this episode, a rock 'n roll parable of murder and conscience largely set at an Iggy Pop concert.
Like "The Man Who Was Death," this one opens with a walk to the electric chair - or, in the case of convicted killer Lee Arenberg, a run to the electric chair. Turns out he can't wait for them to throw the switch on Old Sparky, and we flash back to find out what made him so eager to ride the lightning. Turns out, it was Sam Kinison screaming in his ear. Kinison, another cultural staple of the late 80's/early 90's, lends his voice to the nagging authority inside Arenberg's head that berates and insults its host as he first plots to steal a suitcase full of money (meant for charity, of course), then attempts to conceal the body of a buxom bank clerk (Katey Sagal at her Peggy Bundiest) he's bludgeoned with a Gibson guitar inside Donny Osmond's bass drum kit.
I love a good disembodied bully, from HAL in 2001 to the "Jesus" transmitor Val Kilmer sneaks into the bad guy's ear in Real Genius, and like those entities this mental tormentor refuses to let up, relentlessly pushing Arenberg to the edge of insanity. The beating of the old man's hideous heart seems melodic compared to the raucous screeching of Sam Kinison, which plays perfectly into the episode's rock 'n roll theme (remember his rendition of "Wild Thing"?) His hoarse harrier may be oppressive, but it's the moral center of the piece, screaming at Arenberg not to do what he's thinking about doing, then heckling him into giving himself away. He really seems to care - about what I have no idea.
While it's fun listening to Kinison go nuts, the episode really works thanks to character actor Arenberg, who matches the frantic pitch of the comedian's voice with an over-the-top performance to match. It's the kind of thing that shouldn't work, but it's perfectly tempered to the spirit of the show. Between Iggy gyrating onstage, Sagal vamping it up then instantly nerding it down when she sits to count her money and Kinison going at it full-tilt, you get the feeling everybody involved with this episode had a fun time doing it. And for the first time in several episodes we actually get some brief boob, care of flashing groupies, not to mention Sagal's ample cleavage, which is also very much in keeping with the spirit of the show.
I will strongly recommend that anybody who gets queasy about things being stuck inside ears (hint: Freddy's Dead got the idea for its giant q-tip from here) skip this one. Otherwise, it's rockin. B+.
Notes:
- Anachronism alert! If the series really is trying to stay rooted in the 50's, then Iggy Pop playing himself (at any age) is obviously 20 years too soon. A reference to Pete Townshend about 10 years too soon.
- Episode director Jeffrey Price wrote the script with writing partner Peter S. Seaman - the duo turned in the screenplay for Robert Zemeckis' Who Framed Roger Rabbit? They'd go on to churn out crap like Wild Wild West, Ron Howard's version of The Grinch and everybody's favorite Michael J. Fox movie, Doc Hollywood. This marks Price's sole directing effort.
- It's funny that Kinison and Sagal were both involved in this episode, as Kinison was originally considered for the role of Al Bundy and ended up playing Al's guardian angel in Married... with Children's Christmas special.
- Lee Arenberg co-founded The Actors' Gang with fellow UCLA student Tim Robbins in 1981, which presumably led to his casting in the legendary Tapeheads. (He also popped up in Bob Roberts and Cradle Will Rock, so he's kind of the Jeremy Piven to Robbins' John Cusack.)
- Al White, who plays the no-nonsense cop, was one of the two jive-talking guys in the Airplane movies. Golly!
- Iggy performs "Five Foot One" from New Values with additional plot-appropriate lyrics and somehow manages to make it last the entire episode.
